Calypso Magic

Chapter 6

A filly who wants to run will always find a rider.

JACQUES AUDIBERTI

"It will be a while before she is on Flying Davie's back," Hawk said. "And on her own back," he added under his breath in his wife's ear.

"Hawk!" Frances buffeted him on his shoulder.

Diana smiled at the two of them. Frances was beautiful, she thought without envy. She was sitting on her husband's lap, her head leaned against his broad shoulder. There was a smile on her pale lips and she was saying, her voice thin and hoarse from her travail, "I am delighted to be surrounded by old friends, and my new friend, Diana. Hawk has been driving me absolutely distracted."

"Just wait until your father arrives from Scotland, sweetheart. Then you'll see distracted."

"Papa?" Frances arched a brow. "You know he will spend all his congratulating you on your fine part in everything, just as he did when Charles was born. He just might spare a kiss for me and a pat on the head."

"Not if he'd been here while—" The earl's voice broke off abruptly.

"You scared the devil out of the boy," said the marquess. "That," said Lyon, his eye on Hawk, "is impossible, the devil part anyway."

Both Hawk and Frances grinned at Lyonel. " 'Tis all too true," she said.

"I understand, Lucia," the countess continued, "that you saved my life, and my daughter's life. I remember you speaking to me, but not too much more. I am in your debt."

"I am glad you don't remember all that much, my dear," said Lucia.

"I am in your debt as well," the earl said.

Diana saw his hand tighten about his wife's waist as he spoke. To be loved like that, she thought. Some people were so very lucky. "We wish you to be our daughter's godmother, Lucia, if, that is, you don't mind sharing the responsibility with my interfering father."

Lucia grinned at the marquess and said, "This old man will do as I tell him. You, my boy, just haven't yet learned how to deal with him."

"Hurrumph," said the marquess. "Mixing up my stew with this old shrew. Come here, Lucia, and let me hug you."

"Philandering old goat," said Lucia, and hugged the marquess.

Lyonel said in a low voice to Diana, "The marquess is a wily old devil, but he has met his match in Lucia. I'll never forget how he got Hawk and Frances together, why it was—"

"Telling tales, Lyon?" Hawk said. "She'll never believe you."

"Very well, I'll hold the tale and wait for a boring winter night. Diana will particularly enjoy the part of your, er, former mistress, saving the day."

To Diana's surprise, Frances Hawksbury laughed, a grating, hoarse sound.

"Lyonel can tell Diana all about it when they are traveling to the West Indies," said Lucia with great complacency.

This announcement brought all eyes to Lyonel and Diana.

"Lucia," Lyon began, "I would that you not—"

"Nonsense, my boy."

"So that is the direction the wind blows," said the marquess. his green eyes, so like his son's, glittering.

"No!"

"No!"

"Sounds just like my poor stubborn Hawk here and my stubborn-as-the-devil Frances. Let's leave the young people to themselves, Lucia, and discuss matters."

"First," said Hawk, "we must name my daughter."

"Our daughter," his wife said. "And we've already decided. Arabella Lucia. What does everyone think of that?"

"The child has much to live up to," said the marquess.

"Excellent name," said Lucia. "The child's a fighter. She'll do just fine with it. Now, you old goat, let's leave the young people alone."

Diana watched the two old people leave the bedchamber, arm in arm.

"Damned old man," said Hawk.

"True," said the countess, putting her arms around her husband's neck and burying her face against his throat.

"Diana, 'tis time for us to take our leave," said Lyonel.

"You may go admire our progeny," said Hawk. "Then take a walk in the garden. Just go away."

The countess smiled. "Thank you, both of you, for coming."

Diana, looking among the three friends, merely nodded and headed for the door, Lyonel on her heels.

"They love each other so much," she blurted out when they were in the corridor.

"Yes, they do," said Lyonel, his eyes straight ahead.

They remained at Desborough Hall for four more days. The early-summer weather held mild and sunny. Diana spent most of her time riding, a spritely bay mare named Glenda, admiring the racehorses, and watching their training with Belvis, a wiry old man who took an instant liking to her.

It was odd, Diana thought on the morning of their third day, that Lyonel never went into the stable. He avoided it, and the magnificent tack room, like the plague. "Do you not wish to pick out your own saddle?" she asked him finally.

"No," he said, his voice curt.

"Why not?"

"Leave it, Diana."

"But the grooms are having to carry out all these saddles for you to make your selection."

"Leave it, Diana."

"You, my lord, are becoming boring and repetitious in your conversation."

"At least I'm not a pushy, mouthy chit."

"No, you are an arrogant, selfish—"

He turned on his heel and left her standing by the paddock, Belvis staring after him.

"Most peculiar," said Belvis. "Pardon me, miss, but he wouldn't come near the stables when he stayed with his lord and lady several months ago."

"Hmmm," said Diana, frowning after him. "He visited here after his broken engagement with Charlotte Haversham?"

"Aye," said Belvis. "Now, ye go along, miss, else his young lordship might just clip my ears for speaking so bluntly to ye."

"All right. We are returning to London, you know, early tomorrow morning. I shall miss you, Belvis, and Desborough Hall."

"Ye mind yerself, miss, and his lordship." "And you take care of Flying Davie."

"He'll take all comers at Newmarket this summer. Oh, indeed he will."

Diana didn't doubt that for a moment.

Leavetaking was difficult for Diana. So many new friends she'd made. And, she discovered, somewhat to her surprise, she'd fallen in love with the Yorkshire countryside. It was wild and desolate on the heather-covered moors, and free. It made her feel most odd, as if she had come home, which was, of course, quite ridiculous.

"Cannot we not visit your estate, Aunt?" she asked Lucia as their carriage bowled down the long drive.

"Not this time, my dear. We've too many engagements in town. Did you know that Lyonel also owns an estate here in Yorkshire? Quite near to mine, just five miles from Escrick."

"No, he didn't tell me." Damn the man! She had told him she much admired the countryside when they rode together, she recalled. He had merely grunted in that indifferent way, making her want to box his ears.

Their journey back to London was at a much slower pace and Diana saw much more of England. Lyonel spent not a minute inside the carriage, but Diana stoutly told herself that she was quite happy with his defection. She was a bit taken aback when they neared Grantham when Lucia said calmly, "I want you to know as much as possible about birthing a child, Diana. Even with a doctor—the bloody old fool—and midwife—cowering creature—present, Frances could have died, the child with her. I would imagine that women dying in childbirth is not at all uncommon in the West Indies. Now, you will listen to me carefully."

Diana listened.

What she did not realize was that Lucia had trapped Lyonel that same evening after Diana had taken to her bed, and told Lyonel the same things. "When you take a wife, my boy—and don't frown at me that way!—you will doubtless get her with child. You must know how to take charge if it is needed."

"Lucia, really!"

""Shut up, Lyonel, and listen. It is not uncommon for a babe to be turned wrong in the womb, or even have the cord about its neck. You can feel the position of the babe and turn it if necessary."

"I shall never marry, Lucia, never."

"Don't be more of a fool than your father was. Now, your hands are quite large, so you much be as gentle as possible..."

Lyonel groaned, but he did listen. He had no choice. Not with Lucia. "However," Lucia concluded, her voice as bland as the roast beef they'd had for dinner, "Diana is no small, delicate female. Frances isn't either, but she had the misfortune of having the child in a breech position. Hawk now knows what care she will need with any future children. Now, in the normal course of things, Diana should not have much difficulty, but one never knows, and it is wise to be prepared."

"That is quite enough," Lyonel said, very softly. Lucia, who was familiar with that particular tone, retreated.

Lucia rose and kissed his cheek. "Good night, my boy. Do not drink yourself into a stupor. You will be most unhappy with your aching head in the morning if you do."

Lyonel silently agreed with that and took to his own bed not ten minutes later. Unfortunately, his dreams were fraught with images of Diana, her belly swelled with child, his child. He ground his teeth in his sleep.

He cursed fluently when he awoke the following morning.

He said to Lucia over the breakfast table, "I have decided not to visit Tortola as yet. I will go next spring, perhaps."

Diana dropped her fork at that announcement, the eggs falling onto the tablecloth. "You cannot wait! I will tell you, Lyonel, that it is most unwise to leave a plantation in the hands of an attorney. They are all opportunists. As for Mr. Bemis, I don't know him personally, but I doubt he is any different from the others. You cannot leave him to make decisions. I cannot imagine why Oliver Mendenhall left him in charge. Why, my father says—"

"I am going to check the horses," said Lyonel. He dropped his napkin, thrust back his chair, and strode from the small private dining room at the Wild Goose Inn.

"Why are you smiling, Aunt? He is the most arrogant, the most offensive, the—"

"Yes, all of those things. But he is fighting battles, Diana, and the poor boy just hasn't yet realized that—" Lucia broke off, eyeing Diana. She saw that the girl was bewildered, and held her peace.

She would simply work on Lyonel, dear boy, and he would be on that ship, indeed he would.

The wind was blowing in an ill direction when they attended a ball at Renfrew House in Grosvenor Square the second evening of their return to London. Charlotte had been quite busy, Lucia quickly realized, her lips tightening. Lord, were all her friends and acquaintances absolute fools? They'd been gone less than two weeks and here things had deteriorated alarmingly.

Diana was cut dead by Lady Marian Braverman. Lucia met the woman's eyes, and Lady Marian had the grace to blush.

Lucia kept Diana close until she could find out what had happened. It was really quite simple. Charlotte and that wretched Monsieur DuPres had busily spread the gossip that Diana Savarol and Lyonel Ashton had traveled together to his estate in Yorkshire, the journey there in the company of Lucia, of course, but the two young people had supposedly left her at her estate and gone to his. Alone. Obviously to disport themselves in improper, if not lewd, activities.

"I am going to kill her," Lucia said between her teeth. Knowing that this pleasure would be denied to her, Lucia immediately told a notorious gossip, Lady Gladstairs, in confidence, of course—the truth of the matter.

Lyonel was unaware of the situation until he strolled into Renfrew House near to midnight. He had not intended to come—no, he hadn't, it was just that... Damn. He shook his head at himself. He was met with a leering Monsieur DuPres and several cronies known for their salacious behavior.

He couldn't believe his ears. What made him more furious than the ferocious innuendos was the knowledge that DuPres was saying that Diana, the silly chit, had seduced not only him, but also Lyonel. She was, after all, from that ungodly West Indies, and equally as obviously, anything but a lady. She had taken Lady Cranston in.

He said nothing to either Diana or Lucia. He found Dancy in the card room. "I should like to speak to you. Now."

Dancy, no fool, paled. His arm still pained him occasionally from the bullet Lyonel had cleanly shot through it at their duel.

He rose from the chair, aware of many eyes watching, and followed Lyon into an antechamber. Lyon firmly closed the door.

"You know, do you not, what Charlotte has made people believe? Along with DuPres, of course."

Dancy nodded. "I have heard some things," he said, his voice wary. Damn, he had told Charlotte to keep her mouth shut!

"Have you so little regard for your hide, Dancy?"

"Look, Lyon, what do you expect me to do? Sew her mouth together?"

"Charlotte is your wife, Dancy, thus your responsibility. Either she halts all this malicious nonsense or I will let the truth be known. I will tell everyone that I found her on her back in the Haversham tack room, her skirts tossed up to her throat, with you between her legs. She will no longer rely on my honor as a gentleman. Do you understand me?"

Dancy Moressey swallowed. Lyonel hadn't raised his voice, not even a little bit. He looked as calm as if he were discussing the weather. But Dancy wasn't fooled. He'd known Lyonel Ashton since they were schoolboys.

"Do you understand, Dancy?"

"I-I, yes, I understand, Lyon."

"Have you the guts to speak to her, or shall I?"

"I will fetch her to you."

"Damned coward," Lyon said under his breath as he watched Dancy flee from the room. He waited for ten minutes before the door opened and Charlotte entered, alone. He noted that she was an ethereal vision in pale- blue silk, her face and figure stunning. She was the picture of innocence and soft vulnerability. He remained unmoved. If only he had seen her objectively before he'd made an abject fool of himself...

Her chin was up and her eyes glittered. "Yes, my lord?"

"You are a miserable human being, you know that, Charlotte?"

"And you are a miserable bastard! Don't you dare speak to me like that!"

"And a w***e—"

"I will not stay here and listen to your filth!"

Lyon very calmly took her arm and drew her forward. He pressed her gently into a chair. He stood over her, his arms crossed over his chest. "I will tell you what I told your husband. I will tell the world everything if you do not immediately cease and detract all the filth you have spread about Diana Savarol, and me."

"You would not!" She looked scared, for the first time. Had she always viewed him as such a weak excuse for a man? A gentleman without a spine? Evidently so.

"Oh, yes," he said very softly. "I will tell the gentlemen about your lovely white legs, how they were wrapped around Dancy's flanks, how you made such pleading little mewling noises when he was pumping into you-"

"Stop it, damn you!" She clapped her hands over her ears.

"What is wrong, Charlotte? I have offended your sensibilities? Your modesty? Surely society will believe it most offensive of you to have taken a lover before you were married to me."

"It is you who will be laughed at! And no one will believe you, they will think you are trying to protect that little slut from God knows where!"

"Charlotte, you make me forget that I am a gentleman and do not strike women."

"No gentleman would threaten me as you are doing."

"And no lady would spread such filth. Tell me, Charlotte, why are you doing it? Why do you wish me to suffer for what you did? And Diana Savarol—she's done nothing to you."

"I know all about your little mistress, that Lois girl, an opera girl, that you are keeping. What would your precious Diana think about that?"

To Charlotte's chagrin, Lyonel threw his head back and laughed deeply. "My little amour, you mean? That is priceless, Charlotte. You continue to amaze me. You also cannot imagine how I thank God each and every night that I discovered what a w***e you were before I married you. Dear God, to believe that the future Earl of Saint Leven could have easily been another man's child." He stopped abruptly, his eyes cold and narrowed. "Listen well, Charlotte. It will stop, now. If you continue, you cannot believe how sorry you will be. Actually, I am tempted to tell the truth in any case. Dancy's estate is in Cornwall, you know. I imagine you will adore living there. Think of all the local men you could pleasure. Ah, yes, it is a seductive thought, is it not?"

If looks could have killed, Lyonel would have lain dead at her feet. Looks didn't kill. But words and gossip did.

"Well?"

Charlotte was made of stern stuff. She cursed him in fluent French. Lyonel laughed and repeated, "Well?""

"Damn you, Lyon! A man can have a mistress, but a woman cannot have a lover! It is not fair."

"Ah, Charlotte, it is true that I have a mistress, but you see, I am not promised to a lady. Had I married you, my dear, I would have been like a faithful hound. There lies a vast difference between us."

"I do not believe you. You are a man! Why, my father took every female on our estate, under my mother's nose. All of you are the same."

"I cannot speak about your father, but it is a pity that you do not believe me, for I am telling you the truth. Now, what will you do?"

"You haven't given me much choice, have you?"

"No, none at all. Will you do as I demand?"

Finally, she nodded, and he saw that it was abhorrent to her to bend to his will.

"And DuPres? Must I kill him, Charlotte?"

Charlotte paled a bit. She was fond of Etienne DuPres, who was now her lover. She shook her head. "No, I shall speak to him."

"Wise of you. Do tell me, Charlotte, before you leave this room and my sight, for I am truly interested. Why did you play me false before our marriage?"

She rose and automatically shook out her skirts, her hand going to her beautifully coiffed hair to straighten it. She met his eyes and shrugged. "I was stupid," she said. She turned, head held high, and left the room.

Lyon stared after her. It was odd but he felt an unwonted pang of pity for her. No, he told himself firmly, she wasn't worth a moment's pity. He would speak to Lucia, then tell Diana to keep her mouth shut.

Diana quickly moved behind a huge potted fern when Charlotte swept from the antechamber. She was trembling with what she had heard. She turned to slip away when she felt a strong hand close around her throat.

"Well! So, along with all your other sterling qualities, you are also an eavesdropper. Very charming, Diana."

Diana turned slowly to face Lyonel. His hand remained about her throat. He was enraged, but she didn't at first realize it. How could he have come up to her so very quietly?

"I am sorry," she managed, wishing he would release her. "It is just that I saw you accompany Lord Danvers, then Charlotte came here. I had to—"

"Had to hear every gruesome detail, my dear? I assume that your ear was pressed against the door?"

She nodded, swallowing.

His fingers were following the lines of her throat—quite gently, really.

"Are you going to strangle me?"

He gave a glimmer of a smile, an evil smile to Diana's eyes. "Here? I fancy if I did you would yell the ballroom down upon my head."

She remained quiet.

His fingers continued to caress her throat. "You know, Diana, you have finally pushed me over the edge, as it were. Your childish behavior has gone beyond what I can accept." He paused, and he looked down at her, his eyes a dark blue in the dim light.

"I did apologize," Diana said, unable to meet his eyes. She wished she had never followed Charlotte. She had been wrong, very wrong, but once they had begun talking, once she had learned the truth, she simply had been unable to pull herself away. "Please, Lyon, I am sorry.

"Words," he said. "They are easy to say, are they not?" He abruptly released her. Her hand went unconsciously to her throat.

"I shall speak to Lucia. Then we will leave."

His voice was light, normal again to Diana's ears. If she had looked into his eyes, however, she would have seen that his voice had nothing to do with anything at all.

"All right," Diana said, relief in her voice.

He followed her, his mind working, tossing aside one idea only to quickly replace it with another. Oh, yes, he thought, she had gone too far. What he needed now was the opportunity and privacy.

His fury remained unabated until the next morning. Then he smiled. He rose from his bed and pulled back the window curtain. The day was bright and warm. Yes, he thought, today was the day.