Paying the Virgin's Price (8 page)

          'Can do just as they please,' said Diana, closing the book in her hand with a snap. 'But they will do it without your help. You are not going to a card party, and that is my final word on the subject.'

          And now, the girls turned to Nate, who took an involuntary step back as the combined weight of their charm was turned upon him. 'Mr Dale?' Honoria all but batted her lashes. 'Surely you can help us persuade Miss Price that it is nothing to be afraid of. She is tremendously silly on the subject of cards. She will not even let us play for buttons, when we are at home.'

          'And if you accompanied us, as well?' Verity smiled. 'Then I am sure no harm would come to us.'

          'No!' His denial shocked everyone with its suddenness, himself included. But the old swine, Davering, had learned of his reputation, and kept inviting him to those damned parties, hoping he would be the centre-piece of a night's play. What kind of a man would find amusement in watching his friends lose at cards? He gave the girls a stern look. 'Under no circumstances would you see me at such an event.'

          The girls' faces crumpled in disappointment.

          He took a breath, collected himself and said, 'I am sorry for the sharpness of my tone. But I am afraid I must agree with Miss Price on this matter. I do not attend such parties because I abhor gambling, and I would never encourage the activity for young ladies that I value as friends. You would do well to listen to your companion on the subject and shun anyone that encourages you to do otherwise.' He glanced up at the sky to read the time by the sun. It was late, and he had grown tired to the point of speaking nonsense. 'And now, if you will excuse me, I fear I must be going. Good day to you.' And he turned and walked away.

          'How unspeakably odd,' Verity said, watching his sudden retreat.

          'That you should try to coerce the man into escorting you to a party, instead of waiting for an offer? Your behaviour was shameful, both of you.' And utterly mortifying. Had their forwardness shocked him? Or worse yet, suppose he had seen through the obvious ruse of getting round the chaperone by tempting her with the diversion of his company? Either possibility was quite embarrassing. And it had all been going so well.

          'But it does nothing to convince me that he doesn't fancy our Diana,' Verity added. 'See how quickly he came to her defence against us.'

          'And more proof of how well they might suit,' Honoria agreed. 'His reaction towards a little card game was every bit as adamant as yours, Diana.'

          And he had been so vehement that Diana wondered if there was more to it than just an interest in her approval. Was his past as scarred as hers, that he was so violently opposed to cards? A father, or perhaps a brother, lost to the game?

          She felt a little fluttering in her heart at the thought. For although she did not wish him ill, if there was a greater proof that they would suit, she did not know what it could be. Today's visit had shown both a shared dislike and a shared pleasure. She held tightly to the book in her hands, and could not help smiling.

          'And see how it has affected her.' Verity was positively grinning. 'It appears we shall not be able to orchestrate a meeting over the card table. But surely there will be another opportunity for us to make this match, Honoria.'

          And should the opportunity occur, Diana doubted that she would resist their efforts.

          'Well if she means to be courted, then she had best have a new gown,' Honoria said. 'Now that we have had our exercise, Diana, may we please go to Bond Street?'

          Diana stared off in the direction that Mr Dale had disappeared, giving the book in her hands an affectionate squeeze. 'And perhaps after, we shall go to Gunter's for ices. Just this once.'

          Nathan hurried down the path, out of sight of the ladies, the sweat on his brow turning cold with the early March air. And as he walked, there was the sound of masculine laughter, just behind him.

          He turned to see the Gypsy leaning against a nearby tree. 'So you abhor gambling, do you?' Beshaley's grin was positively evil. 'It amazes me that you were able to say that aloud and with a straight face.'

          The same thought had occurred to him, even as the words had left his mouth. He could not very well have let them go to Davering's. A misstep in such company would be the ruin of those poor girls. But neither would he offer explanation where none was deserved, lest it give the Gypsy something to use later against the Carlow girls.

          Instead, he kept the focus upon himself. 'I did not choose my profession out of any great love for cards. I am sure you must know that many terrible things become palatable, once one's need is great enough.'

          There was the slightest twitch at the corner of Stephano's mouth, as though he might know the truth of that even better than Nate. Nate filed the information away, hoping it could be ammunition of his own.

          And then he smiled. 'If your object in troubling me was to see me make a fool of myself, then I hope you are satisfied. Not only did I tell a boldfaced lie, I gave her that damned book.'

          And now the Gypsy grinned at him, and he cursed himself for saying too much. 'Do you think you can gain forgiveness for what you have done to her with such a paltry gift?'

          'I think nothing of the kind. The book was an accident. I was reading it, and must have put it in my pocket. When she said that it was a personal favourite, what else could I do?'

          He could have claimed it as his own and then put it away. Instead, he had stood there like a love-struck fool, and pressed the thing into her hands. But it would serve nothing to announce the fact to his opponent. So he gave Stephano a disinterested smile, as though what Diana Price might know or think meant very little to him. 'I doubt it shall be a problem. She was grateful, of course. But I do not plan to see her again to discuss the contents.'

          The Gypsy gave him an enigmatic smile. 'I am glad you have such confidence in plans, Nathan. It is probably because yours have been so successful in the past.' And with that, he turned and walked away.

Chapter Eight

         
'D
iana, another letter has arrived for you.' Honoria brought the morning's post into the small dining room, with even more glee than she had shown two days ago.

          'Is this one full of bank notes?' Verity asked hopefully.

          Honoria gave the letter a practiced squeeze. 'Too thin. I would guess that it is single sheet.'

          'Too bad. Then we shan't persuade her to go shopping.'

          'Much more likely, it is a love note from Mr Dale.'

          'Give it here.' Diana said more sharply than she had intended, for she did not want to show unseemly interest.

          'Not until you promise to tell us of the contents.' Honoria held the thing just out of reach.

          'If I feel that the contents are likely to be of interest to you, then of course I will share them.'

          This seemed to satisfy Honoria, for she handed the letter over, still crowding so close that Diana had to step back if she wished any privacy.

         
Miss Price,

         
Meet me again today at ten o'clock, in the place where we last met. I have a matter of importance I wish to discuss with you. Please come alone.

          Another cryptic note. It was not signed. But she smiled, for she could easily imagine that the word Nathan had been omitted from the bottom of the page.

          He wanted to meet her. Alone. This time there would be no pretence that he was interested in the Carlow sisters. It would be just the two of them, walking down the path in the park. She clutched the paper to her breast so that no one could see the words.

          'Well?' Honoria still stood expectantly before her.

          'It is nothing.' And that was an enormous lie. For in a few words, it was everything. 'Of no concern to you, anyway.' Much closer to the truth. For she did not want to share the message any more than she wished to share Nathan Dale. Even if it was just for one meeting, he would be hers alone, and so would the secret be.

          Honoria smiled knowingly. 'I do not think you have to tell us, for the look in your eyes says enough. It is from Mr Dale, and the words are sweet. When you are ready, perhaps when we are all old and have children of our own, you must show us.' She reached out and enveloped Diana in a hug. 'But for now, all we need to know is that you are happy.'

          Diana dressed carefully to prepare for the meeting and wished for a moment that she still had the fancy day dresses she had owned in her youth. It was a curse to be as sensible as she had become, for it showed in her wardrobe. And when she had finally allowed herself an extravagance on their last outing, what had she been thinking, to let Honoria persuade her to buy a dinner gown? It would have been far better to purchase one or two simple dresses, and some ribbons to refresh her tired bonnet. The green silk dress she had chosen instead would make it appear that she was trying to outshine the Carlows, should she wear it in public.

          Although sometimes, it was nice to be noticed. She glanced in the mirror, smoothing her hair, and tying the sad bonnet ribbons into a creditable bow. Perhaps her plain appearance did not matter to him. He had taken the time to discover that today was her day free of duties, without bothering to ask her. He must be more than a little interested in the woman under the bonnet to take the trouble.

          She walked to the park, doing her best to maintain an even pace, to arrive neither too early, nor late. It might not be that unusual for a young woman to walk alone in the park, but it would be too far outside normal decorum to appear to be loitering there.

          But it was not necessary to be concerned. For at exactly ten o'clock, she saw him striding down the path in her direction in a purposeful way, as though he were no more interested in being caught lingering than she was.

          'Mr Dale.'

          She could tell he'd recognized her voice, for his head snapped up at the sound of it, looking for the source. But his face did not hold the welcoming smile. Instead he wore a look of alarm. His bright green eyes had a trapped quality, as though she were the last person he expected to be meeting.

          And now, he was smiling as though he thought it possible to disguise his initial reaction. 'Miss Price. What a coincidence to see you again, so soon.'

          'Coincidence?' Something was very wrong. Perhaps she had misread the date on the note. But more likely, she had jumped to a conclusion as to the sender. She could feel the blush rising on her cheek and ducked her head hoping it was not too late to hide it from him. 'You are clearly in a hurry. Please, give me no mind, for I would not detain you. Good day.' And she made to pass, hoping that he would think she also had somewhere to go.

          'Wait.' He reached out and caught her arm before she could get away, and the warmth of his fingers seemed to sink through the cloth of her gown. He was smiling sympathetically at her, as though he could sense her confusion and wished to put her at ease. 'This is not a chance encounter, is it? You do not seem at all surprised to see me.'

          'I thought that you wished... But obviously not...' And now she was sure she must be crimson, gone past embarrassment and into mortification. 'I am sorry. I should go.' She turned from him again, looking desperately back up the path that would take her towards the Carlows' town house.

          He renewed his grip on her arm. 'Please, wait. There is something wrong, isn't there? Explain it to me.'

          She reached into her reticule for the note, and closed her eyes as she handed it to him. 'What must you think of me? I swear, I am not normally given to meeting alone with gentlemen. But I thought if it was you it would not be so wrong.'

          'It is not signed.' He said it very reasonably, as though it surprised him that she could not see something so obvious.

          'I know.' Without opening her eyes, she said, 'It was not from you, was it?'

          'No, it was not,' he admitted.

          She opened her eyes again, and gave a little shrug to hide her embarrassment. 'And now, I look a fool for jumping to such conclusions, based on an unsigned note that is obviously some sort of prank.'

          He sighed, but then smiled back at her. 'I think it was a perfectly honest mistake. We had a lovely conversation when we were here before, did we not? And it was interrupted when I hurried off.'

          'Yes.' She pursed her lips and tapped the letter with her fingers. 'But I am very angry with the girls, for I suspect that they are in some way involved with this.'

          'You do?' He seemed a little surprised by the idea. But it was probably just that he did not wish to think ill of ladies. 'I suppose that is the most logical explanation.'

          He was allowing her the benefit of the doubt, although he did not seem convinced. So she added, 'Of course, it does appear to be in a man's writing.'

          He nodded. 'I do not blame you for your mistake, for it is rather like my hand. It appears Lady Honoria had an accomplice. A footman, perhaps?'

          She thought for a moment to correct him on the likelihood of a footman having such a fine hand or for that matter, being able to write at all. 'Although it is just the sort of trick Honoria might play, if she meant to try to get around me. She must have got Peters or Richards to help her. Or maybe it was John the coachman.' She gave the paper a little rattle, hoping that rough handling of it now might make it less obvious that she had pored over the thing, reading and rereading, searching for a happy meaning to a few short words.

          And then, his hand covered hers to still their movement. 'No matter. If I had a pen, I would solve it all by putting my name at the bottom of it and pretending that it came from me.'

          And his smile was so warm and his touch so comforting that she felt her hand begin to relax. 'But you did not mean to see me.'

          'That does not imply that I do not take pleasure at the meeting.'

          'Thank you, sir.' And then, she added impulsively, 'And I enjoyed talking with you, as well.'

          'Then it is settled. We are both glad to be out in the park on a lovely spring day. Especially after such a hard winter. Let us walk a ways together.'

          When she looked up his eyes seemed very green, and staring down at her with an intensity that made her heart jump. And she remembered that their meeting was not really proper. She should have separated from him after the briefest of greetings. 'I am afraid it is not wise for us to be seen together. It might appear to some that we are having an assignation.'

          He smiled, for he must have realized that that was exactly what she had been expecting. 'I have always thought it more a proof of the small minds around us, that they can be so eager to think ill of a lady of good character, such as yourself. But if it puts your mind at ease, we will keep to the less-travelled paths, away from prying eyes.'

          And that was exactly what she should have feared. A man who was less than a gentleman would take advantage of such privacy. But surely, Mr Dale was not such a one. So she said, 'Thank you for your understanding. Perhaps I am overly sensitive. Since it is my job to guard the reputations of others, I work very hard to set an example to them by my own behaviour.'

          'Then I will take care to do nothing that is beneath reproach,' he said, offering her his arm.

          She tucked the note back into her reticule, then reached out gingerly to put her hand upon the crook of his elbow. He turned and guided her off the main path. And then he said, 'What shall we talk of today? Poetry, perhaps? For if it is a shared interest...'

          'No,' she said firmly. 'Today, I wish you to tell me something of yourself. For you have managed to ferret information from me that I would not usually tell a stranger. It is hardly fair. You must give me something in return.'

          He thought on it for a moment, and a strange expression crossed his face. 'I suppose that is true. I must tell you about myself. Although, I am afraid that the story will not be pleasant.' And his arm tightened against hers, tucking her hand close to his side. 'I hardly know where to begin.'

          She gave an encouraging squeeze to his arm. 'Begin with your family, then. Are they living? Or are you alone?'
Like me.
She had almost added the words, but did not wish it to seem that she was searching for more similarities.

          'My father is...dead. He died when I was just a boy.' That seemed a difficult admission, and she wondered: had they been so close that it still grieved him?

          'And what of your mother?'

          'I have not seen her for many years, nor my sisters.'

          'You are estranged from them?'

          'Not by my doing, I assure you. I pray daily for their welfare.' It touched her heart that he looked so distressed that she might think him capable of abandoning them. It was just another example of his tender heart.

          His eyes fell. 'After Father's death, there were difficulties. Our finances were strained. We children took employment, and each contributed to the family's welfare as best we could. But one night, when I was returning from...work. I was set upon by a press gang.'

          'You were in the Navy, then?' It explained the commanding way he stood, as though the earth could move under him and he would not stagger.

          He gave a sad smile. 'You make it sound very heroic. I was there against my will. Off the coast of France, and then the Americas. I spent the first months--sick as a dog from the motion of the water--trying desperately to contact my family, to explain why I could not come home to them. But I do not think the letters found them, for there was no response.'

          'It must have been horrible, not knowing.'

          His mouth made a bitter line. 'Six years of my life, wasted.' And then he looked at her, his eyes sombre. 'And this is where you will see me for the sort of man I truly am. For when I finally got the opportunity, I jumped ship.'

          'You are a deserter?' She almost released his arm. For it was most shocking, and not at all in keeping with the man she was convinced that he was.

          'Do you blame me? The law that took me was for trained seamen. It was never meant to drag inexperienced men to sea against their will so that they could lose the King's ration of bread and grog over the side whenever the ship crested a wave. I was a terrible sailor, from the day they took me to the day I ran.' He opened his hands, staring into the palms. 'Look here. See the scars? This is where I lost my grip on the sheets, and the rope near skinned my hands. I could show you the marks of the flogging I got for that, as well. And the places where the sun burned my skin to blisters. It was a hard life, and I was glad to be rid of it.'

          'But to run away...' It was so different from what she expected from him that she hardly knew what to think.

          'They had no right to take me, and their callous stupidity jeopardized the safety of my family. God only knows what happened to them, without my protection.' He frowned. 'I tell myself that my sisters are most likely married, with families of their own by now. But I know that is probably a lie. And it is a shame. For over the years my fortunes have changed much. If I could but find them, I could support them in luxury and quite make up for the hardship I left them in.'

          And knowing the sort of things that might happen to a woman alone, or even through the carelessness of one such as her father, she had to agree. 'You were right to worry, and I can understand your actions in trying to get back to them. But to live under the stigma of desertion cannot be easy. Perhaps if you appealed to the Admiralty, they would give you a proper discharge.'

          'Perhaps. My claim is legitimate. But I have, shall we say, a certain lack of faith in the English courts. They have never been a friend to my family. And while the law clearly states that I am in the right, it would be scant comfort to have that as an epitaph, should they decide to execute me for desertion. Once I earned enough money in Boston to pay for a passage home, it seemed easier just to start anew. And mask my identity.'