Diana the Huntress by MC Beaton

the crown and the same width in the brim, and the whole ensemble decorated with a huge nosegay thrust into the buttonhole. To Diana, they all looked simply terrifying. She did not even know the company boasted three of the most admired Corinthians in London: Tom Akers,wearing a white beaver turned up with green, and with his front teeth filed so that he could spit like a coachman: Sir John Lade, who could drive the two off wheels of his phaeton over a sixpence at the start of a hundred yards: and Golden Ball Hughes, that most languid of sportsmen , doing his best to run through forty thousand pounds a year. Hard, rather truculent stares turned in her direction and the conversation died away.
    Diana gave a nervous gulp and turned and fled upstairs, back to her room. She sat crouched beside the fire. She could never go through with it. All at once, a picture of Ann Carter rose before her mind’s eye; pretty, dainty Ann. What if Mr Emberton fell in love with Ann? How silly she, Diana, had been to simply drive on. How missish and idiotish to believe in a dirty old gypsy. There was a knock at the door, but Diana stayed where she was, too frightened to answer it.
    The door handle turned and the door swung open. Lord Mark Dantrey stood on the threshold.
    He was wearing a many-caped driving coat and a curly-brimmed beaver. He looked much taller and more elegant than Diana had remembered. He removed his hat, revealing that the old-fashioned length of his hair had been cut and styled into miraculous disorder, making poor Diana feel that her own attempts at the Windswept had been feeble, to say the least.
    ‘I came early,’ he said, coming into the room. ‘Have you dined?’
    Diana shook her head. ‘I am not accustomed to town,’ she said. ‘Everyone seemed so drunk and noisy, and it is so very dirty here. Not at all what I expected.’
    ‘Ah, well, that is Limmer’s for you. It is so expensive that everyone swears they charge extra for the dirt. However, their gin punch is very good and the meals are tolerable. Do you care to join me for supper?’
    He saw the hesitation in Diana’s face and added gently, ‘There is a coffee house near here which will be much quieter, if you would prefer it.’
    ‘Oh, yes,’ said Diana gratefully. She went to the mirror to straighten her cravat and caught herself just in time as she was about to give a feminine pat to her curls.
    What a difference it was to saunter along the London streets with such a tall and elegant companion. Diana gazed about her eagerly, mimicking the swaggering walk of the Bloods. They turned in at Hubbold’s coffee house and took seats in a high-backed booth. Diana began to relax. She had thought coffee houses would be noisy, boisterous places like the dining room at Limmer’s, but this was more what she would imagine a gentleman’s club to be. Everything was hushed and silent. Craning her head around the high back of the settle, she noticed men sitting quietly, writing, or reading newspapers.
    Lord Dantrey ordered roast beef and salad and a bottle of hock. Diana would dearly have liked something else, but she was too frightened to say so. It seemed that Lord Dantrey considered burgundy and claret fit only for the ladies.
    ‘I do not know any of this, sir,’ said Diana. ‘I fear I lack town bronze.’
    ‘Innocence and a good heart are worth more thantown bronze,’ said Lord Dantrey. ‘But it amuses me to take you about. Perhaps my last bachelor outing before I settle down to find myself a wife. Will you marry, think you, Mr Armitage?’
    ‘Not I,’ said Diana quickly. ‘I have no time for the ladies.’
    ‘Indeed! I thought youth was always romantic.’
    ‘Perhaps. I am not without feeling for romance. I admire Lord Byron. He must be all that is romantic.’
    ‘I sometimes wonder,’ said Lord Dantrey, filling Diana’s glass. ‘You were not shocked at the scandal?’
    ‘What scandal?’ asked Diana, wide-eyed. She had only recently begun to listen