Chapter 12
The guests had gone. And now, he was alone with her.
She sat in the wingback chair at his request, before the glowing embers of the fire, sipping champagne.
The delicate flute sparkled with rainbow colors in the firelight and they cast jewel tones upon her gown.
This woman was his wife now.
Max was not a man of regrets. He did not look back and wonder what might have been. That was the way of madness. And madness was the way of misery and death. He was already very well acquainted with both misery and death and had no need to court more.
No, he’d learned from life as he went, taking in his mistakes, of which there were many, and doing his best not to repeat them. There was no point in punishing himself for the failings he had perpetrated. Instead, he had focused his life on helping more people. It had been the only way to combat the things that he had witnessed over the many years. Things which would make some men cower in a dark corner, never to emerge again.
So, as he sat in the library, now the room crisp but for the fire, across from his brand new wife, he did not question his decision to wed. He did not question if he would one day deeply regret this night. He had made a decision and that was all there was to it.
It had given him a measure of relief when Yvette had crossed to him and done the most devilishly odd thing. She’d winked then grinned after talking to Diana. It was clearly her sign of approval.
He did not need Yvette’s approval, but he still appreciated it. For she knew him in a way that few did. And the idea that his wife and she could be at odds would have been difficult, indeed. But he’d already felt an instinctive inclination to believe that Diana would not be intimidated by a beautiful and intelligent woman. For Diana was both of those things herself without a hint of bitterness in her.
How did she manage that, he wondered. He peered at her as casually as he could, taking in her fiery hair, her pale complexion and the straightness of her spine. It wasn’t rigid. It was proud and, yet, there was a sort of bounce to her posture that suggested a good deal of playfulness under her at-present still surface.
Given her harrowing journey from Scotland and her sudden marriage, he was impressed by her fortitude. Many people would have been a bundle of harried feelings.
Not Diana.
She cleared her throat. “I liked yer friends.”
He leaned back in his chair, hoping that this moment might give her a hint of ease after so much tension. “They liked you.”
In the soft glow of the dimming fire, it was impossible to miss her sudden smile. “Och, that is good.”
“You deem it important?” he queried, spinning his own glass casually between his fingers.
Her forehead furrowed with seeming surprise at his question. “A wife would be foolish, indeed, no’ to wish the good esteem of her husband’s friends.”
His eyebrows rose, not quite surprised but certainly pleased. There were many, once again, who were not overly concerned and, in fact, were frequently annoyed by their spouses’ friends.
“You will be invited to several parties and balls almost immediately, if I know the Duchesses of Harley and Blackstone.”
She smiled fondly. “That’s verra generous of them, given they ken me no’ at all.”
“We are. . .” He hesitated. How did he explain the dukes? Or how Harriet and Eglantine had been folded into their group? She would come to understand in time, a wise young woman like herself. “A close group of friends and, as my wife, they will be eager to welcome you. But I do think they shall like you for yourself.”
Her lips parted further in a pleased smile but then the smile dimmed. “Whatever will we do about my brother?”
It was tempting to tell her not to worry herself. But with someone like Diana, such a statement would be foolhardy and certainly not endear him to her. He doubted she was the sort who wished to be coddled. Protected? Yes. Wrapped in lamb’s wool? No.
“The announcement will go out in the papers this morning. I’m sure we should expect a visit from him not long after. I will point out to him how very dangerous it will be to upset a duchess.”
He was uncertain if he should add that he had every intention of paying off a good portion of her brother’s debts and supplying him with funds for an extended stay in Baden-Baden.
So, instead, he said, “I am going to encourage him to seek a life abroad where several of my close associates will ensure his life is comfortable.”
Her lips parted. “My goodness. That is a verra pleasant way of saying he shall be watched for the rest of his life.”
“Exactly,” he said, rather pleased she had drawn the correct conclusion. “No need to be unpleasant. Yet.”
Her eyes darkened as if she understood that he could, indeed, be very unpleasant if the situation arose. And yet, she did not appear frightened by the prospect.
“Forgive me, Diana, but you are a mystery to me,” he breathed.
“Och, Yer Grace, ye’ve kent me all of a moment.” She grinned. “How could I be anything else?”
“You must call me Max now,” he instructed. It felt damned odd. Few had ever called him by his Christian name, but she was his wife. “For we are intimates. And frankly, I know people quite well and usually come to a very quick understanding of them. I don’t wish you to treat me formally.”
“As ye wish. . . Max. And what have ye come to ken about me?” she asked with only the slightest hesitation.
His name on her lips was the most rich of caresses, a delicious treat with her Scottish burr. It was the first time he felt as if he could have listened to his name be repeated again and again. For when she spoke it, his name was almost made magic.
“My dear Diana, I can tell you are strong. Capable. A woman of good humor.”
“Flattery,” she scoffed.
“Truth,” he clarified.
Her sapphire gaze danced and she confessed playfully, “I’m terrified of ants.”
His lips twitched. “Ants?”
“Yes,” she said with exaggerated seriousness. “Lest ye think me perfect, I must confess at least one of my shortcomings now.” She gave a dramatic shudder. “Terrible little beasts, they send me running.”
He laughed. “Then I shall have to protect you from them.”
“Ants?”
“Oh, yes,” he assured. “Anything which upsets you.”
“Och,” The sound was remarkably wise as if he’d said a boyish thing. “Ye canna do that.”
“Can’t I?”
“No one can, Yer Grace.” She leaned forward and said with a wisdom beyond her years and seeming experience, “Ye canna protect me from the world. . . just my brother.”
His admiration for her grew in that moment. She didn’t wish to be saved from the pain of this world, just something very practical. He could hardly blame her for that. Women had so little recourse, so little justice in this world. The only way they could get it was through a powerful man. Yet, she wasn’t asking him to be her shield. No wilting violet was Diana, Duchess of Raventon.
He felt his heart stir then with an emotion he’d long thought dormant. An emotion he’d tried to keep at bay after Tommy’s death.
Tommy. . . also a boy with glorious red hair.
He slammed his lids shut, willing himself not to think of the care he had felt for the child. No, he had not allowed himself to care about anyone else since that day on the battlefield.
And he would be careful now. . .
He opened his eyes and said with forced cheer, “I will endeavor, then, not to be too protective.”
“Glad I am to hear it.” She lifted her champagne flute. “The world, for the most part, is a lovely place, indeed.”
He did not reply but attempted a smile as she drank.
For he wasn’t sure he agreed with her summation of the world, but he wouldn’t contradict her. There was no need to sour her happiness with the darkness he’d seen. A darkness that made him doubt the general beneficence of the world.
No, if she could find joy in the wide world, despite her own misfortunes, he wouldn’t be the one to argue with her. It would be damned cruel to try to take it away.
If anything, he hoped to see that love of the world in her eyes for the rest of their lives. Somehow, he would see it done. No matter what it took. For she was his now. And he would not fail her.