Virginia Henley by Enslaved Page B

“You jest,” she said lightly.
    Peter shook his head. “For once I’m being serious. I must return to Somerset, but I don’t want to leave you behind—not when I’ve just found you.”
    “Impossible,” she murmured.
    He swung her into the dance, and when they came together, he said, “Don’t say no; please think about it.” The figures of the dance caused them to separate again, but his eyes never left her.
    Diana felt most flattered to receive Peter Hardwick’s undivided attention. Female to her fingertips, she relished the game of pursuit, but she was determined the flirtation would go no further.
    When the next dance began, he whisked her away from William Lamb. “I’ll show you a fabulous time in Bath. The social mores aren’t at all stuffy and regimented as they are here in London.”
    She could feel his warm breath playing about her ear. “You have no trouble overstepping the rules.”
    “Too much red blood in my veins for that.”
    “I thought you were a blue blood.”
    “Then you
do
think about me.”
    “Never.”
    “Liar!”
    Diana eluded him until the last dance was called. It began on a light note, but the tension built between them as his arms became possessive and his gaze intense. Diana realized he was becoming too serious and decided she must put a stop to it. In a firm but friendly tone she said, “I’m most flattered for your invitation, Peter, but I shan’t be coming to Bath.”
    The music stilled, but Hardwick held her fast. He had a wild, predatory look that both compelled and repelled her. His voice was low, determined, almost threatening. “You shall, you
shall!”
    When the dance ended, Diana returned to the side of her guardian, who had never taken her eyes off the couple. She saw a look of pure satisfaction cross her aunt’s face when she said, “Peter Hardwick invited me to Bath.”
    “What an amazing coincidence.”
    “Rather, I suspect collusion,” Diana said quietly.
    “I swear you are the cruelest girl on earth! How you can suggest such a thing is beyond me. Of course you accepted?”
    “Of course I declined. If he is that interested, he will soon come galloping back to London.”
    “Playing hard-to-get may be unwise. There are prettier girls with greater titles on the marriage market this season.”
    “But none with a larger inheritance,” Diana said quietly.
    “Let me tell you, missy, cynicism in one so young is repugnant! I swear you are so perverse that you are rejecting Peter Hardwick simply because I approve of him!”
    There’s more than a grain of truth there,
Diana thought.
    “Well, let me inform you that you are cutting off your nose to spite your face! It is common gossip that the earl is disinclined to marry. Peter is his heir and whomever Peter marries will not only be the mother of the future Earl of Bath, she will inherit the Elizabethan hall, the quarries, the lot!”
    It was disrespectful and upsetting to argue with Prudence, but Diana refused to be a spineless pawn in her aunt’s relentless climb up the social ladder. By the time they reached Grosvenor Square, they were no longer on speaking terms.
    Sleep eluded Diana for hours as the events of the eveningplayed over in her mind. She had no objection to Bath; surely it overflowed with antiquity, and the Palladian architecture alone was enough to make it fascinating. She had no real objection to Peter Hardwick’s company either. What it boiled down to was her dislike of Prudence controlling her life. She fell asleep determined to be the master, or rather the mistress, of her own fate.
    In the morning Diana awoke to an unusual amount of coming and going outside her chamber. When Biddy brought Diana’s morning chocolate, she was brimming over with news she wished to impart.
    “The doctor’s here—mistress had a fall!”
    “Oh, no.” Diana threw back the covers and dressed immediately. Downstairs Prudence was on the couch with her doctor hovering.
    “Whatever happened?” Diana asked