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'What do you want from me?' she said, her tone dry and empty.
And so he answered her. 'What do you think I deserve?' If she thought
him such a demon, the least she could do was tell him so. Damn him to hell
and call him unworthy.
She went to the sofa by the fire and lay down upon it, fumbling with
her skirts, spreading her legs.
'Stop that immediately.' She had dropped the paper upon the floor.
And without thinking, he picked it up again.
'I do not wish to live a moment longer with an unpaid debt upon my
conscience. Knowing that you could come for me at any time? It has been
unbearable.' Though she did not rise, she pulled away from him as he
approached her, as though the thought that he might take advantage of what
she was offering was almost unbearable. Her face showed such pain that he
could hardly stand it.
'I asked you.' He pointed a finger at her, in accusation. 'I asked you if
you were happy in your job as companion. You assured me you were all
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right. You were happy. And that it had all turned out for the best. Were you
lying?'
'That was before I knew who you were.'
'And now that you do, it is all changed. I understand that you cannot
be happy with me. But it appeared you were growing quite fond of Nathan
Dale. Was that a lie as well?'
'It was a mistake.' She lay still upon the couch, her bosom heaving and
skirts so disarrayed that he could see the slender ankles and shapely calves
beneath them. Every movement, every breath, seemed an invitation. But she
was looking at him with those wide, innocent eyes. And although the
affection in them was gone, there was not a trace of guile. He had been sure
that she wanted him, and yet she swore that she did not.
'Then it is a mistake that is easily corrected. Nathan Dale, who you
loved, is gone, never to return. And between you and Nathan Wardale, there
is nothing?'
She hesitated. It was less than a breath. Less than a fraction of a
second. But it was there. And then she said, 'There is nothing between us but
the writing on that piece of paper.' And when he looked into her eyes again,
he saw it: the bluff that he had been hoping for.
He had broken her heart with his carelessness. She was disappointed
and angry and afraid. But she was not afraid of him. She feared what she
was likely to do, should he touch her again. And she hoped that a single,
weak lie could make him throw down his cards and leave the table.
There was much more between them than she would admit. But if he
allowed her to escape, she would never understand. He took a shallow
breath, and read the paper, as though the words were new to him, but of little
consequence. Then put it back into his pocket. 'Then I lied when I said I did
not wish to redeem this. If that is all I am to you, if there is no love between
us, then what reason do I have to yield it unpaid?' He patted his pocket. 'It is
still on my person, as it has been for ten years. And during that time, I made
no effort to hurt you, to hunt you down, to humiliate you with it. And so it
will remain, if you wish to walk out of my life. But if it is so important to
you, then you must retrieve it from the table beside my bed. Return here, at
eight tonight. We will settle what is between us. If you wish to leave
afterwards, the marker will go with you and you may do what you like with
it. I hope you are happy together. But once you go from here, you will never
see me again. Good day, Miss Price.'
He left her, striding out of the study and up the stairs to his room. She
was still sprawled on the couch, and if he remained one more moment in her
company, he would give in to his desires and fall upon her like the animal
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she thought him to be.
After what he had suggested, she would not dare to follow. His own
words had shocked him. For what gentleman would ever say such to a lady?
Especially the woman he loved. But if she did not see his self-disgust, then
she could assume what she wished. And since she seemed to expect the evil
seducer, that was what he would give to her. He would play her game--and
beat her at it, for if he was nothing else, he was good at games.
And what was love, after all, but another game of chance? He was
sure she would come back to the house, prepared to make the ultimate
sacrifice to conclude her business with Nathan Wardale. But when the door
was closed and the lights were out, it would be a different matter entirely.
She had loved him before this morning. And if he had lured her to his
rooms two days ago, and asked as Nathan Dale for what she was now
willing to barter, she would have given it willingly. If she had the nerve to
return to him, he would make her face the fact that she wanted him in the
same way that he did her. He would give her the sort of night that any man
would be proud to offer the woman he loved. And then, he would see if she
was so willing to leave him.
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Chapter Fifteen
How could she have been so stupid?
The words echoed endlessly in her mind as Diana sat with Verity and
Honoria in the white salon, mechanically jabbing the needle in and out of
her embroidery. Had not her father warned her against just such a day as
this? Had not she spent the whole of her adult life on guard, always
suspecting that someday there would be a knock on the door and a man
would come who would know far too much about her past?
Of course, Nathan Dale had not come as a seducer. He had come to
speak to Marc and seemed surprised to meet her there. But his initial
curiosity should have been a warning. Who would have reason to be
interested in a paid companion? It was her own vanity that had led her to
believe he fancied her. Nothing more than that.
Of course, her father's description had been totally different from the
man who had come to her. He had described Wardale as little better than a
boy. Pale of skin, thin of body, and with cold dead eyes. And having met
Nell, she'd assumed a greater family resemblance between them than
existed.
If Nathan Wardale's life had been as hard as the one that Nathan Dale
had described to her, then the person her father had seen was but a shadow
of the man to come. Whether he'd enjoyed it or not, life at sea had put
muscle on him, changed his colouring and his gait. And hardship had made
him serious, and sensitive to the feelings of others.
But those thoughts sounded almost like sympathy in her mind, so she
pushed them away. His appearance did not matter, nor his reason for
coming. He was still the person who was responsible for her current
condition, and she had hated him for years.
Her inner turmoil must be reflected in her face. Verity had put down
her work and was looking at her with concern. 'Are you sure you are all
right, Diana?'
'I am fine.' Her voice sounded brittle in her own ears, and her smile
must look as false as it felt. For now Honoria was staring at her with the
same worried expression. 'Well you certainly do not look it. Perhaps this
evening, it would be better if we attended the party without you.'
The party. She had forgotten, in her rash promise to Nathan Wardale,
that she was already engaged to attend the Carlow girls at a musicale. And
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now, she must lie to free herself. 'I think you are right. It is probably just the
beginnings of a megrim. I should make an early night of it. But that would
leave you without a chaperone. And I would never...' She let the thought trail
away, waiting for one of the girls to take the bait.
'We will be safe in the company of Lord Keddinton, I am sure,' said
Honoria. 'And I promise there will be no ill reports of me tonight, for it
would hardly be fair to worry you.'
Verity nodded. 'We will give you no trouble, and will be very quiet
when we return, so as not to disturb your sleep.'
Or notice her absence, if she had not yet returned herself. 'Thank you,'
Diana said with a smile, ignoring the pang of guilt she felt at how easy it
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