“No. I’m still not sure that I saw what I think I just saw.” She wanted to burst into laughter. “White Haven has a strange effect on people, doesn’t it?”
“Not White Haven.” He squeezed her waist as they mounted the stairs, ignoring all their guests. “Love. Love has a strange effect on people.”
When Diana had changed and redressed her hair, Evan escorted her to the Royal Apartments. She looked so beautiful, her dress rustling, her floral scent pleasing him, so feminine and pretty … and his. Truly his now, for he had not just her hand in marriage but her heart.
As she had his.
And right at this moment, none of it felt like a mistake. He was exactly where he was meant to be, doing exactly what he was meant to do.
God hadn’t led him astray or sent him on a ridiculous error-strewn path outside His will.
What had started out looking like a curse had become blessing upon blessing.
He shook his head as he tapped on the door to the prince’s chambers. It had taken him much too long to come to that conclusion.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
Diana nodded, gifting him a brilliant smile.
A servant opened the door and stood back. “His Highness is expecting you. This way.”
They followed the liveried man through the sitting rooms and into the bedchamber. Marcus stood at the foot of the canopied bed, his hands clasped behind his back. The prince reclined upon a mountain of pillows, his arm wrapped in so many bandages it resembled a leg of mutton. Lines of pain and strain etched his face, his pallor the color of the bed linens.
He spotted Evan and Diana.
“Come.”
Marcus stepped to the side, giving Diana an encouraging smile. “I’ve just been making my report to His Highness.”
“So he has. This is a rum day’s work. An assassin right here in the house with me? What sort of security are the Home Secretary and the Royal Horse Guards running when assassins and spies are allowed to roam freely with unfettered access to their quarry? And not just any quarry but the ruling monarch?”
He scowled in a heads-will-roll humor that had Evan wishing they’d never come to check on him. Were they all going to pay the price for Fitzroy’s villainy? He’d never seen the prince so ill-humored.
Shifting his weight, the prince grimaced. Diana left Evan and went to his side, helping him adjust the pillows to a more comfortable angle. When she would’ve stepped back, he grasped her hand. “My dear, stay and comfort me. Looking at pretty things makes me feel better, and you’re by far the prettiest thing to come through those doors today. I’m surrounded by incompetents. Only you and that spike-tongued housekeeper of yours have shown any sense.”
She glanced over her shoulder at Evan, her eyes eloquent, and he covered his amusement with a nod.
“Your Highness, you have been so brave. Such an example to your subjects. I wouldn’t be surprised if ballads weren’t written in your honor. You must rest and rebuild your strength. I prescribe some calf’s foot jelly and some beef tea. You lost quite a bit of blood, and you mustn’t strain yourself. I know you planned to leave for Brighton in a few days, but you must not jeopardize your health by venturing out too soon. The nation is depending upon you.”
How did she do it? Evan marveled at her ability to turn him from surly granite to pliable clay in an instant. The Prince Regent practically purred under her fussing.
“You’re quite right, my dear. It has been harrowing, and I will need time to recuperate.”
She continued to hold his pudgy hand between her palms. “I’m sure we will do everything we can to make you comfortable. You’re a robust man, and I am certain this won’t set you back much. And think how you will climb in the people’s regard.”
Evan and Marcus shared a look. The people had not much good to say about old Prinny, assassination survivor or not. Surely she didn’t believe what she was saying? Then Diana turned her face away from the prince, catching Evan’s eye and giving him a slow, deliberate wink.
Marcus guffawed, quickly changing to a cough to cover his amusement. And Evan averted his gaze to stare out the window. The minx. She knew exactly what she was doing.
“You there.” The prince indicated the courtiers hovering around the perimeter of the room. “Clear out. I want a private word with the earl and countess. You’re all useless anyway. I’ve been in agony for hours, and none of you has lifted a finger, like the countess has in just a few minutes, to make me feel better.”
When Marcus made to leave, the prince said, “You stay, Haverly.”
“Of course, Your Highness.” Marcus bowed and returned to his post at the foot of the bed.
“Come to this side, Whitelock, and sit. I don’t want to have to crane my neck to see you properly.” The prince beckoned to the other side of the feather mattresses from where Diana sat.
Evan picked up a spindly chair and brought it to the bedside. When he was seated, he asked, “Your Highness?”
The prince pursed his lips, his eyes intent. “Haverly here tells me that I have you to thank for dispatching my would-be assassin.”
“I did what any man would do under the circumstances.” Evan didn’t know what to say. He was embarrassed to be praised for taking a man’s life. He had drawn no pleasure in the act. Doing what was required by decent men didn’t need to be rewarded.
“So you say, but you were the man to do it when there were many others present who did not, including those who are being paid to see to my protection. I assure you, this will not pass unnoticed. How shall I reward you? I’ve made you an earl. Should I give you a dukedom?”
Evan straightened. “Oh no, Your Highness. Not that.” He had barely gotten used to the idea of being an earl.
“Then what? The Crown cannot appear ungrateful.”
He wanted nothing. He had everything he needed in Diana … and Cian. And then it dawned on him what to say.
“Your Highness, there is one thing I would seek, and you are the only man who can grant it.” Evan wished he was the one holding Diana’s hand instead of the prince.
“Make your request then, and if I am able, I will fulfill it.”
Evan looked into Diana’s eyes rather than the prince’s when he spoke. “To explain my desire, I must first tell you a story. A story about a brave girl who cares more for others than she does for herself. A girl who is loyal and courageous and good. This girl had a sister she loved very much, a sister who fell under the power of a bad man with ill intent. As a result, the sister’s virtue was compromised. She was forced to leave London society, and in near isolation in the country, she gave birth to a son. Sadly, she did not survive her confinement, and on her deathbed she begged this girl to take the baby, raise it as her own, and never reveal the secret of the child’s father.”
Diana’s bottom lip disappeared, and moisture formed on her lashes. He wanted to go to her, and hold her, and remind her of how brave she was, and assure her she didn’t have to carry this burden alone anymore. The width of this ridiculously opulent bed was too much separation, but he forced himself to remain in his chair.
“The girl and baby were virtual prisoners in the house of her father, who was not a good man. He had no love for the girl or the child, and he constantly used the child as a weapon to subdue the brave girl. When he desired to marry the girl to a man of his choosing and for his own advantage, she agreed because he promised to give her the child if she obeyed.”