Diana despises me. I could see it in her eyes.
Andrew paced the vicar’s study. She’d never believe he hadn’t sought out Dusty. Never listen while he explained the conversation she’d overheard with his father. Never give him an opportunity to tell her how much he loved her.
He’d be lucky if she didn’t give him a black eye to match his uncle’s.
“You’re wearing out the rug.” The words came from a cut and bruised mouth. “Sit. Calm yourself.” Neville gestured to a nearby chair. “The ladies will join us momentarily, and we’ll go from there.”
Despite the state of Neville’s clothes and hair and the bruises forming on his face, the man remained as composed as he had prior to the ill-fated ceremony. “How can you be so—?”
A rap on the door had him rushing to open it. “Diana—”
The vicar’s wife held up a towel-wrapped bundle. “I brought peas.”
He blinked. “We’re not hungry but thanks.” He was beginning to grasp the southern penchant for feeding guests. Really…peas? Now?
She let out a breath. “They’re frozen. I’m going to put them on the duke’s face.”
“You must think me daft. It’s very good of you to think of him.” Andrew attempted to accept the packet, only to have Mrs. Beecham hold them above her head.
She took a step across the threshold and craned her neck to see Neville. “Jackie is a friend of mine. I know she’d want me to take care of y’all.”
Andrew blocked her path. “Thank you. I can see to him.”
“Trying to lend a hand. It’s the Christian thing to do.”
“It’s much appreciated.” He took the offering, stepping forward so he could close the door. With her on the other side. “I’ll be sure to mention this when we see her.”
From the hallway she called, “Let me know if there is anything I can do.”
“You’re too kind.”
Bloody hell, these were either the most gracious people on the planet. Or the nosiest.
Andrew passed the bag to Neville and took the seat next to him. “You look a frightful mess.” His thoughts on Diana and how the revelation affected his chances with her had preempted the fact his uncle had been in a brawl.
“You should see the other guy.” Neville chuckled. “Aw. That hurts.” His face grew serious. “Worth it though. Embarrassing my Jackie.”
“I’m sorry, Uncle, I should have insisted on seeing her divorce decree.”
Neville patted Andrew’s knee. “Not your responsibility.” A smile replaced his stern expression. “Everything will work out. For all of us.”
Does he know about Diana and me?
“Be patient and have faith in our women.” He winked. “You’ll see.”
Having his secret known had a surprisingly uplifting effect. Air flowed more freely through his lungs. The knot in his belly uncoiled. His purpose redoubled. “You’re right.”
Knock, knock.
The weight returned.
Both their fates waited on the other side. He schooled his features. Willed calm. Pushed the nightmares to the far corners of his imagination.
“Open the door, my boy. Don’t keep the ladies waiting.”
Diana held onto her mama, her breath, and her courage. When Andrew opened the door to Reverend Beecham’s study, they all escaped her grasp. He appeared calm. Emotionless. British reserve at its finest.
Jackie’s stumble and whimper kept Diana focused on the mission at hand. She led her mama to the nearest chair, arranging her in the seat like a life-size doll. The duke took Jackie’s hand, giving Diana the first glimmer of hope since her father’s disastrous announcement.
“Tell us how it went, my dear.” Neville brought Jackie’s hand to his lips. “Shall we be returning to the chapel momentarily or in a few weeks’ time?”
The duke’s query acted like a fresh battery to an electronic toy. “Really?” Jackie fluffed her veil. Straightened her dress. “You still want me, Dukie Dear?”
He pouted, his bruised and swollen lip protruding further. “Have you so little faith in me? Of course, I still want you. Now, tell me, what’s it to be?”
Her hands fluttered free from his. “Diana is so much better at explaining things than I am.”
She drew in a breath. “It seems my father is correct. There is no divorce. However, given they haven’t lived together in decades and share no property, I see no reason why a divorce can’t be obtained in a matter of weeks.”
Neville cocked an eyebrow. “An autumn wedding then.”
“Perhaps you might consider a private affair this time.” Andrew shook his head, a crack in his British reserve showing.
“Whatever Jackie wants.” Neville tugged his fiancée to her feet. “Right now, we have guests to entertain.”
Diana rubbed the pain in her middle. “I’ll be with you in a moment, Mama. I want to freshen up.” Too bad the church had a no-alcohol stance. She could use a belt of something strong before facing that crowd.
“You two take your time.” Jackie hooked her arm through Neville’s.
The duke leaned in and whispered loudly. “Maybe there’ll be more than one announcement to make.”
Diana’s grasp on the situation snapped. Had Mama and Neville breezed over the pre-existing husband like it was a bigamy bump? Sailed off to a reception for a wedding that wasn’t? Then inferred they knew she and Andrew were lovers? The furniture and books in the room swirled. She stumbled then reached out to steady herself. What next?
“Sit.” Andrew led her to the chair Jackie vacated. “My mind’s playing catch up as well.”
“They know?”
“Appears so. Diana, you have to understand—”
She waved away his concern. Some issues were easy enough to work through. “You had no way of knowing. It was a complete accident, and considering the facts, a lucky thing for my mama.”
He pulled the other chair so they sat knee-to-knee. “Was it a lucky thing for you though? Are you okay with seeing your father again?”
“I’m fine.” She turned her head, so he couldn’t see the welling tears. “My granddaddy was the perfect male role model for me. I was fine before Dusty popped back up, and I’ll be fine, now.”
Time to tackle the more difficult topics. Setting Andrew straight. Letting him go.
As her granddaddy always pointed out, the shortest distance between two points was a straight line. “Now I’ve got Mama settled, I’m going to take time off. Alone. Instead of Biloxi, I have a friend from Ole Miss who moved to Portland. I’m going pay her a visit. Who knows, maybe Oregon will suit me. I might stay.”
“Please, hear me out.” He took her hands.
Diana didn’t have the will to pull from his grasp, but neither could she meet his gaze. She studied the moiré fabric of her dress and imagined the swirls and lines taking her far from this heartbreak. “If this is about the conversation with your father last night, I have a pretty good grasp of the situation. Your father wants you to marry me, and you don’t want to.”
“Not because I don’t love you.”
Her head popped up. “Say that again.”
“Diana Frances Curtis. I. Love. You.”
Those three words should have eased her pain. Should have brought her joy. Should have made everything right. “It doesn’t change anything though, does it? I’m not proper marriage material even if your father approves of me.”
“He approves of your money.”
When faced with losing his pride or losing Diana, it was no choice after all. “We’re broke.” Relief spread through him with the admission. “My uncle hasn’t a pence to his name. Chatham Park is barely habitable. My parents rent their townhome in London. And the lot of them rely on me for their income. By gambling. I’m a professional. Over the years I’ve worked out a system that pays off rather reliably.”
Diana pulled her hands from his. “You’re a card shark.”
“I count cards, which is perfectly legal.” He banked on her family’s history with the occupation and the emphasis she placed on a strong work ethic. “I’ve been at it consistently for years. I’ve avoided notice by keeping my winnings to small increments and moving around the globe. Not as glamourous as it sounds, but it pays the bills.”
“That’s what you’ve been doing?” Her eyes widened. “Not loafing? Working!”
“I have. My grand scheme was to make enough I could ask for this.” He took her hand again, kissing her palm. “And only this. I never wanted you to think I was after your money.”
She wiped away her tears. “Now look what you’ve done. I was all geared up to give you a piece of my mind.”
“I’d settle for a piece of your heart.”
“Are you proposing?” Her voice rose an octave.
“No. Not yet. Only once I’ve sufficiently proven I can support a wife on my own.”
God, it could take years before he could accomplish such a feat.
She waggled her finger at him. “I’m still a little mad at you.”
“I’m sure I’ve earned your ire.”
“You should have told me all along. I don’t care you and Neville aren’t rich.”
“You might not care, but I doubt very much we could have convinced you we weren’t dishonest.”
“It explains why you felt you had to marry someone from your social class. She would have brought an allowance or another fortune to the marriage.”
“Or failing that, a woman of means—as my father was quick to point out.” He tightened the grip on her hand. “That’s truly the only reason I haven’t already gotten down on bended knee.”
Her small laugh gave him a glimmer of hope. “We’ve known each other, what, two weeks? And you feel you’re late with the proposal.”
“What can I say? My uncle and I know a good thing when we see it.”
Diana’s shoulders rose to her ears. “Where do we go from here? We each have families to support. Careers that take us to different places.”
Andrew pulled Diana from her seat. “Run away with me. Forget everything and everyone.” He twirled her then caught her in his arms. “To start with, we’ll visit your friend. When we need to replenish funds, we’ll head to Vegas. I’ll work, and you can lounge by the pool.”
“You’re crazy.” She swatted his arm. “That’s no way to live.”
“Why not? I’ve been doing it since university. Now I’ll have company. And inspiration.”
“What about my businesses? Our families? You’re saying we should cut them off?”
“Just until we have a better plan. Your shops are already well managed, and Jasmine is fully capable of running Greenbrier.”
Diana tilted her chin. “Who’ll run my mama?”
“It’s time we both cut the apron strings, as it were. Neville and Jackie have each other now. I plan to have a conversation with my uncle regarding his renovation plans. His promises to Jackie regarding her new living quarters at Chatham Park will have to be revised.” Andrew couldn’t resist a taste of her lips. “I’ll have more pressing matters to attend to than honoring his promises.”
She didn’t exactly pull away from his kisses. More on the order of offering other parts of her face while she continued with her questions. “And your parents? Aren’t they also dependent on your income?”
“They are, but they’re simply going to have to get jobs. Like the rest of us.”
So far, Diana approved of Andrew’s line of thinking. Except for the part where she laid poolside while he did all the work. A seedling concept took root watered by fresh optimism and hope. “I have the perfect jobs for them.”
“Just like that? You’re brilliant as well as beautiful.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “But I knew that from the moment I rescued you from the baggage carousel. Let’s hear it.”
“Your mother grew up at Chatham Park, right?”
“She did.”
“And going by the rehearsal dinner, I gather your father is a wine aficionado.”
“I’d call him a wine snob, but your way sounds nicer.”
“Then let’s put those skills to good use at Chatham Park. Lady Somerset can give guided tours and Lord Somerset can oversee wine tastings.”
Her mind raced with possibilities. She loved conceptualizing new business schemes and playing an important role in helping Andrew made the prospects all the sweeter. “Beyond that, I’ll study the market to see what’s missing in the area. Wedding venue. Spa. Boutique Hotel. Luxury gardens. The avenues are endless. The economy is stronger now, so I don’t see why your family home can’t be as successful as mine. All it takes is time and an investment of capital.”
“Sounds brilliant except for the last part. I’ve been working for years and can only keep our heads above water.”
“That’s why you need my money.” She tapped her lips, mentally calculating which investments to pull from to get the cash. “I’m prepared to invest a minimum of a million. To start. It will likely take more, but that’s enough to get the ball rolling. Architectural drawings, licenses and a proper business plan, then we’ll see where we are.”
“Hold up.” Andrew took her by the shoulders, turning her face to meet his gaze. “This is exactly the argument I had with my father. Why I said I didn’t want to marry you.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. Enough was enough. “You have your damn pride.”
“Look where it’s gotten me.” He kissed her light and quick. “I accept. I’ve had to manage things on my own for so long, I’m afraid I’m not very good at accepting help.”
“We’re both alike in that way. Cussedly independent.”
“Bloody hell, can you imagine what our children will be like?”
Yes, I can. The heir, the spare, and the spare, spare.
“With your good looks and my sense of style, they’ll be the beaus of every barbeque in Mississippi.”
Andrew kissed her again, this time letting lingering, and through their touching lips he said, “or the belles of Britain.”