Though her large eyes beseeched him, he knew he couldn’t allow her to live in this house for a single day longer than necessary.
They would wed in one week and sort out the details later.
CHAPTER 5
DIANA ALLOWED THE tiger to tuck the blanket over her lap as she settled into the carriage beside … her fiancé. How strange to think of anyone in those terms, but especially the Earl of Whitelock. She tried not to take too much room from Marcus or his mother, the Duchess of Haverly across from her. The young groom gave her a quick nod before ducking out of the carriage to take his place on the step at the back. In the two days since the earl’s proposal, she’d seen nothing of him until this morning, though Carson had brought her the notice from the paper announcing their engagement.
Which made things official. Her father had raged at first, then quietly fumed, and then, as was his way, schemed how he could turn this setback to his advantage.
“Here’s what you’re going to do. You will say not one word of your inheritance to Whitelock. He won’t have heard of it himself, or he would’ve brought it up when he offered for you. It’s not as if I spread the news abroad when your harpy of a grandmother arranged her will. If he doesn’t know about it, he can’t claim it. The day after the wedding, I will arrive at your townhouse to take you for a drive. You’ll come with me to the solicitor’s. I’ll have some documents drawn up, with Whitelock’s signature forged on them, and you’ll vouch that he is signing the money over to me. And you will never mention the funds to your husband.”
He was not only prepared to cheat her—and thus her new husband—out of her inheritance but to break the law to do it. Forged documents. If he was found out, he would find himself in Newgate Prison or transported to Botany Bay. He would be disgraced.
But his actions were his own. As were hers. Cian’s safety and future were most important. She had promised her sister, and she loved the baby with all her heart. She was prepared to do whatever it took to keep him safe and as far from her father’s influence as possible. “If I do this, you’ll sign Cian over to me?”
He grimaced at the sound of the boy’s name, but he nodded once. “You can have the brat the minute you turn over the funds.”
It would mean lying to her husband for the rest of her life, never telling him about the fortune he’d lost. A lie of omission. But it would also mean Cian was safe with her. That made it all right, didn’t it? Her conscience bit her, but she squashed it down. Rahab lied about the spies, and God still loved her, didn’t He? Surely the safety of a child was justification for not telling the truth to a man she barely knew, though he be her fiancé. Though she had prayed and prayed for some other way to be revealed, those prayers had gone unheard. She would just have to push ahead herself and hope God would forgive her.
So now she held two secrets from her betrothed. The money and a baby. How could she even broach the subject of Cian with the earl? Surely he wouldn’t welcome the illegitimate child of his wife’s sister into his home. Until she knew her prospective husband better, she couldn’t possibly anticipate how he would react. For the time being, he mustn’t know about Cian. If that meant buying the baby’s freedom with her inheritance and her silence about the matter, then so be it.
Loneliness washed over her. She was trapped in her father’s townhouse with all the anger and tension for a few more days with no one to advise her or care about her troubles. Her fingers went to her cheek where the bruise had faded, and she’d concealed the faint color with a little face powder. Though he had fumed and shouted, the duke had sense enough not to strike her again. Diana had the earl and his haste about the wedding to thank for that, she supposed. Her father couldn’t beat her black and blue and still escort her down the aisle at St. George’s in less than a week’s time without raising unwanted curiosity.
“Diana?” The earl’s voice jerked her out of her reverie. “I asked if you were comfortable. Here. Put your feet on this hot stone.” He indicated the wrapped bundle on the floor.
“Thank you.”
“Not too cold?”
“No.” Though she was chilly, it was to be expected in January in London. She had so wanted to escape the townhouse, even for a short while, that when the earl’s invitation for a chaperoned trip to an art exhibition arrived, not even a snow squall would’ve caused her to refuse.
Marcus Haverly sat across from her, next to his mother, the Duchess of Haverly. She’d come more for respectability’s sake, Diana suspected, rather than any desire to appreciate fine art. The duchess wore a pinch-mouthed expression of general disapproval that kept Diana from engaging her in conversation.
Her son must be used to her moods, for he asked, “Are you comfortable, madam?”
Madam. He didn’t call her Mother?
“I suppose, though it seems indecently early for such an excursion.” She adjusted her fur-lined cloak. “I don’t know why we had to be out and about at such an hour.” Her pewter-gray hair clustered in tight curls around her face under her bonnet. She looked Diana over and gave a small nod of greeting.
Marcus had her eyes, but that was the only resemblance Diana could see.
“An early start means an early conclusion, and there are many preparations still to be made for the wedding.” Marcus grinned at Diana, his eyes asking for her indulgence when it came to his abrasive parent.
The duchess sniffed. “A rushed affair. ‘Marry in haste, repent at leisure.’ It’s not just an old saw. There’s quite a bit of truth there.” Her eyes flashed between the earl and Diana. “I can’t help but think that if your mother were alive, she’d caution you to wait a bit. I’m surprised at Lady Cathcart for countenancing such a rushed wedding. As your sponsor, she should’ve been consulted.”
A stab of longing went through Diana. How she wished she had a mother, or her sister, or anyone of her own to guide her, to listen to her fears, to help her. If only she had a friend to talk to, a woman who could advise her. She felt so alone, with no one to stand with her against life’s blows.
“I understand you’ve made your curtsy to the Queen? Why didn’t I read about your come-out ball?” the duchess asked.
Diana blushed. Why did she always seem to be apologizing for her father’s actions? “I did not have a come-out ball, Your Grace. My father thought it an unnecessary expense.”
“It appears he was correct, since you’re already engaged and will be married within the week.” She frowned. “It’s unseemly, if you ask me. I am always suspect of a marriage performed under special license. Any marriage that can’t stand to have the banns properly read falls under a cloud.”
Marcus put the side of his finger along his lips, failing to hide his smile. “And after I went to all the trouble of helping Whitelock here procure that special license—and at great expense too.”
“Hmph. I might have known you’d be involved. You have ever been a vexation to me. Flaunting convention and going your own way. I am told it is the custom of second-born children, but it does make you a trial.” She sighed, as if bearing up under a great burden.
Diana shot Marcus a look to convey her sympathy and understanding of being publicly chided by a parent, but Marcus gave a small shake of his head and then … winked at her. A laugh caught her by surprise, and she quickly glanced out the window.