The Lady Forfeits (5 page)

She drew in a shaky breath. ‘You said you were accused of it, not that you were guilty.’

Those dark eyes narrowed. ‘I did say that, yes,’ he allowed softly.

‘And so are you indeed innocent of that crime?’

Gabriel gave a small, appreciative smile. Not a single member of his family had bothered to ask him that question eight years ago, choosing instead to believe Jennifer Lindsay’s version of events.

His friends Osbourne and Blackstone had not bothered to ask it either, but that was because they both knew him too well to believe he could ever behave in so ungentlemanly a fashion if he were indeed truly guilty of taking a young woman’s innocence.

That Diana Copeland, a young woman he had only just met—moreover, a young woman Gabriel had deliberately kissed with passion rather than with any consideration for her own innocence—should have asked that question was beyond belief.

Gabriel looked her straight in the eye. ‘I am.’ His gaze narrowed to steely slits as she continued to frown. ‘Having asked and been answered, you are now doubting my word on the subject?’

‘Not at all.’ She shook her head. ‘I just— What could this young girl, any young girl, possibly hope to gain by telling such a monstrous lie?’

‘As an only child I was heir to my father’s fortune and lands,’ Gabriel explained.

‘Was…?’

His mouth firmed. ‘That fortune and lands were instead left completely in my mother’s care on my father’s death six years ago. Fortunately I was not left
destitute as my grandfather’s estate had been left in trust and could not be taken away from me.’

‘And this young girl’s lies are the reason your family and society treated you so harshly all those years ago?’ she pressed.

‘Yes,’ he grated.

She gave him a sympathetic look. ‘Then I can only imagine it must have been a doubly bitter pill to swallow when you knew yourself to be innocent of the crime.’

‘You only have my word for that,’ he pointed out grimly.

‘And is your word to be doubted?’ she asked delicately, eyeing him quizzically.

Gabriel frowned. ‘My dear Diana, if I truly were the man almost everyone believes me to be, then I could simply be lying again when I say, no, it is not.’

She smiled gently. ‘I do not believe so. You are a man, I think, who would tell the truth and—excuse me—to the devil with what anyone else chooses to believe!’

Yes, he was. He had always been so, and this past eight years had only deepened that resolve. But, again, it was surprising that this woman already knew him well enough to have realised and accepted that…

‘And the—the young girl,’ she spoke hesitantly. ‘What became of her?’

His mouth tightened. ‘My father paid another man to marry her.’

‘And the babe?’

That nerve pulsed once again in Gabriel’s tightly clenched jaw. ‘Lost before it was even born.’

Diana’s expression was pained. ‘How very sad.’

‘Knowing all of this, are you still of the opinion you wish to become my countess?’ he asked her directly.

Her cheeks were pale, her hair in slight disarray from their kisses, but there was still that familiar light of resolve in those sky-blue eyes. ‘You are no more responsible for what people may wrongly choose to believe of you than I can be held accountable for my mother having left her husband and three daughters.’

Gabriel’s mouth quirked. ‘The announcement of a betrothal between the two of us would certainly give society much to talk about!’

She smiled a little sadly. ‘No doubt. Perhaps, if you hope to become reconciled to society you should not, after all, contemplate taking one of Harriet Copeland’s daughters as your countess?’

Gabriel’s expression hardened. ‘I have absolutely no interest in becoming reconciled to society, or in having society be reconciled to me. Nor do I care what any of them may choose to think of me or the woman I take as my countess.’

‘Then we are in agreement?’ Diana held her breath as she waited for his answer.

‘I will have the announcement of our betrothal appear in the newspapers as soon as is possible.’ He gave a sharp inclination of his arrogant head.

This was what Diana had wanted, what she knew was necessary to salvage her own pride after Malcolm’s defection, and to encourage her sisters to return home. Yet the reality of being betrothed to the hard and unyielding Lord Gabriel Faulkner, a man beset with a past scandal that rivalled even that of Diana’s mother—
worse, a man who had kissed her with such passion only minutes ago—caused her to inwardly tremble.

Whether that trembling was caused by apprehension or anticipation she was as yet unsure…

‘I
am seriously starting to doubt that your Aunt Humphries exists,’ Gabriel commented drily the following morning as he and Diana sat together in the small dining room, eating their breakfast attended by the quietly efficient Soames.

The previous afternoon had been taken up with various visits to the newspaper offices, the Westbourne lawyer, William Johnston, and to an old comrade in connection with Dominic Vaughn’s disappearance into the country. But Gabriel had returned home in time to change for dinner before joining Diana downstairs. Only Diana. Mrs Humphries had sent her apologies. Those same apologies had been sent down again in regard to breakfast this morning.

Diana smiled. ‘I assure you she does exist, but suffers dreadfully with her nerves. In fact, she did not wish to come to London at all and only did so because I insisted on coming here,’ she added affectionately.

Gabriel raised dark brows. ‘I am relieved she had
enough sense to agree to accompany you, at least. But taking to her rooms the moment you arrived, and remaining there, is certainly not helpful. In fact, it is totally unacceptable now that I am residing here, too.’

She looked enquiringly at him. ‘Surely there can be no impropriety when you are my guardian?’

‘A guardian who is now, officially, your betrothed.’ Gabriel passed the open newspaper he had been reading across the table to her.

Diana’s hands trembled slightly as she took possession of it, searching down the appropriate column until she located the relevant announcement.
The betrothal is announced between Lord Gabriel Maxwell Carter Faulkner, seventh Earl of Westbourne, Westbourne House, London, and his ward, the Lady Diana Harriet Beatrice Copeland, of Shoreley Park, Hampshire. The wedding will take place shortly at St George’s Church, Hanover Square.

There was nothing else. No naming of who Gabriel Faulkner’s parents were, or her own, just the announcement of their betrothal. Nevertheless, there was something so very real about seeing the betrothal printed in the newspaper and knowing that it would no doubt be read by hundreds of people all over London this morning as they also sat at their breakfast tables.

Not that Diana had even considered changing her mind about the betrothal since they had come to their agreement yesterday. Nor did she baulk at the comment that the marriage was to ‘take place shortly’—the sooner the better as far as she was concerned, preferably before Malcolm Castle and Miss Vera Douglas walked down the aisle together!

No, Diana had no regrets about her decision; it was only that seeing the betrothal in print also made Gabriel Faulkner so very real to her too. Not that there could really have been any doubts in her mind about that, either, after being held in his arms and kissed so passionately by him yesterday.

Just thinking about that kiss had kept her awake last night long after she had retired to her bedchamber…

Nothing in Aunt Humphries’s talk all those years ago, concerning what took place in the marriage bed, had prepared Diana for the heady sensations that had assailed her body as Gabriel had kissed and held her. The heat. The clamouring excitement. The yearning ache for something more, something she wasn’t sure of, but believed that marriage to a man of his experience and sophistication would undoubtedly reveal to her…

Gabriel watched beneath hooded lids as the colour first left Diana’s creamy cheeks before coming back again, deeper than ever. That rosy flush was practically the same colour as the gown she wore this morning, accompanied by an almost feverish glitter in those sky-blue eyes as she raised heavily lashed lids to look across the breakfast table at him. ‘You are concerned by the word “shortly” in the announcement, perhaps?’ he asked.

‘Not at all,’ she dismissed readily. ‘I would like to find my sisters first, of course, but can see no reason why the wedding should not take place immediately after that.’

‘No?’ Gabriel looked at her wickedly. ‘I had imagined that perhaps you might wish to give your young man—I trust he is a young man?—the appropriate time
in which to rush to your side and admit to having made a mistake as he proclaims his everlasting love for you?’

Irritated colour now darkened Diana’s cheeks at Gabriel’s teasing tone. ‘He is a young man, yes…as well as a very stupid one. And even if he were to do that, I would not believe or trust such a claim.’ Her mouth—that deliciously full and tempting mouth—had firmed with resolve.

Gabriel leant back in his chair to look across at her speculatively. That Diana was beautiful could not be denied. That she had a firmness of will could also be in no doubt. That her nature was unforgiving where this young man was concerned he found surprising. Especially considering she had accepted Gabriel’s own claim of innocence the previous day without his having produced so much as a shred of evidence to back up that claim. Except his word…

He set his jaw. ‘Perhaps I should know the name of this young man? So that I might send him about his business if he should decide to come calling,’ he added as Diana gave him a sharp glance.

‘I trust I am perfectly capable of dealing with such a situation myself if it should ever arise,’ she retorted snippily.

Gabriel was well aware of the strength of Diana’s character—how could he not be when he knew she had acted as both mistress of her father’s house and mother to her two sisters since the age of eleven?

No, his reason for wishing to know who the young fool was who had turned away from Diana when her fortunes had changed was a purely selfish one; having secured her agreement to marry him, he had no inten
tion of now allowing her to be persuaded into changing her mind. Firstly, because they would both be made to look incredibly foolish if the betrothal ended almost before it began. And secondly, because kissing her yesterday had shown him that marriage to her would not be the hardship he had always envisaged matrimony to be…

Beneath the coolness, and that air of practicality and efficiency she had displayed so ably by preparing Westbourne House for habitation, Gabriel had discovered a warm and passionate young woman that he would very much enjoy introducing to physical pleasure. He certainly had no intention of allowing some fortune-hunting young idiot to reappear in her life and steal her away from under his very nose. Or any other part of his anatomy!

Gabriel’s mouth compressed. ‘Nevertheless, you will refer any such situation to me.’

Diana looked irritated. ‘I feel I should warn you, my lord, that I have become accustomed to dealing with my own affairs as I see fit.’

He gave an acknowledging inclination of his dark head. ‘An occurrence that I believe our own betrothal now renders unnecessary.’

It was Diana’s first indication of how life was to change for her now that she had agreed to become Gabriel’s wife. A change she was not sure she particularly cared for. Ten years of being answerable only to herself had instilled an independence in her that she might find hard to relinquish. Even to a husband. ‘I am unused to allowing anyone to make my decisions for me,’ she reiterated.

Gabriel did not doubt it; it was because Diana was no simpering miss, no starry-eyed young debutante looking to fall in love and have that man fall equally as in love with her, that he could view their future marriage with any degree of equanimity. ‘I am sure that, given time, we will learn to deal suitably with each other.’

Diana gave a knowing smile. ‘I think by that you mean, with time,
I
will learn to accede to
your
male superiority!’

Gabriel found himself returning that smile. ‘You do not agree?’

She shook her head. ‘I do not believe you to be in the least superior to me just because you are a man. Nor is my nature such that it will allow for subservient and unquestioning obedience.’

Since meeting Diana, Gabriel had come to realise that the last thing that he desired in a wife was subservience or obedience. When he had told Osbourne and Blackstone a week or so ago of his plans to marry, Gabriel had assured them both that his marriage was a matter of obligation and expediency. Firstly, because he needed a wife, and, secondly, because of a sense of obligation to the Copeland sisters, because they had all been left without provision for their future when their father had died so unexpectedly. As such, subservience and obedience in his future wife had seemed the least that Gabriel could expect.

Having glimpsed the fire hidden beneath Diana’s cool exterior yesterday, Gabriel knew that in their marriage bed, at least, he required neither of those things!

‘My lord…?’ Diana gave him a searching glance as the silence between them lengthened uncomfortably.

Had she said too much? Been too frank about her character? But surely it was better for him to know the worst of her before they embarked on a marriage together, rather than learn of it after the event?

She had certainly believed so. But perhaps she had been a little too honest? ‘I could perhaps attempt to…quell, some of my more independent inclinations.’

‘There is no need to do so on my account, I assure you,’ he said with a twinkle in his eye before turning to dismiss the attentive Soames, waiting until the butler had left the room before continuing. ‘Diana, I had expected to be bored, at the very least, in any marriage I undertook; it is something of a relief to know that will not, after all, be the case.’

Her eyes widened. ‘You do not think it preferable to wait and perhaps marry a woman whom you love?’

‘Love?’ He managed to convey a wealth of loathing in that single word.

‘You do not believe in the emotion?’ she asked cautiously.

His top lip curled back disdainfully. ‘My dear Diana, I have discovered that love comes in many guises—and all of them false.’

She could perhaps understand Gabriel’s cynicism towards the emotion when he had been so completely ostracised after being falsely accused of taking advantage of an innocent young lady. Had he loved the young lady before she had played him false?

Yes, Diana could sympathise with him—possibly even shared his cynicism towards love. Malcolm Castle had certainly made nonsense of that emotion when he’d
professed to still love Diana, but had every intention of marrying another woman!

She sighed. ‘Perhaps you are right and a marriage such as ours, based on nothing so tenuous and fickle as love, but on common sense and honesty instead, is for the best.’

Gabriel frowned as he heard the heaviness in Diana’s tone. One and twenty was very young for such a beautiful young lady to have formed such a pragmatic view on love and marriage. But perhaps, with the experience of her parents’ marriage, and her young man’s recent abandonment of her, she was perfectly justified in forming that opinion. After all, Gabriel had been but twenty years old himself when he learnt that hard lesson.

‘Which is not to say…’ he stood up slowly to move around the table to take Diana’s hand in his before pulling her effortlessly to her feet ‘…there will not be other…compensations in our marriage to make up for that lack of love.’

She blinked up at him as she obviously realised it was his intention to kiss her once again. ‘I—my lord, it is only nine o’clock in the morning!’

Gabriel threw back his head and laughed. ‘I trust, my dear, you are not about to put time limitations on when and where I may make love to you?’

Not at all. Indeed, she would dare anyone to put limitations on a man such as Gabriel Faulkner. It was only that his behaviour now deviated drastically from her Aunt Humphries’s description of what marriage would be like.

Her aunt had led her to believe that it was usual for a husband and wife to go about their daily lives sepa
rately—for the husband that involved dealing with business and correspondence in the morning and visiting his club in the afternoon, for the wife it meant dealing with the household responsibilities, such as menus of the day, answering letters, receiving visitors and returning those visits in turn, along with needlework and reading. Evenings would possibly be spent together, either at home or attending social functions, followed by returning home and retiring to their separate bedchambers.

On one, possibly two nights a week, the husband might briefly join the wife in her bedchamber, during which time it was the wife’s duty to do whatever her husband required of her. Aunt Humphries had been a little sketchy as to what that ‘whatever’ might entail, with the added advice that a husband had ‘needs’ a wife must satisfy, ‘silently and without complaint’…

Luckily, Diana had some idea as to what those ‘needs’ might entail; her father had bred deer on the estate in Hampshire—no doubt what took place between a husband and wife in their marriage bed was not so very different from that process. Such an undignified business that it was not surprising her aunt had chosen not to discuss it!

But at no time had Diana’s aunt mentioned that a husband—or, in this particular case, a betrothed—was in the habit of stealing kisses throughout the day. Most especially the type of kisses that yesterday had made Diana’s toes curl in her satin slippers!

She straightened. ‘As I assured you yesterday, I believe I know my duty towards my future husband, my lord.’

Gabriel’s brow lowered. Damn it, he did not wish
Diana to allow him to kiss her out of a sense of duty; he wanted her to now give freely what he had taken so demandingly yesterday. ‘Gabriel,’ he encouraged huskily.

That pulse was once again beating intriguingly in the slender column of her throat. ‘It would be improper of me to be so familiar until after we are wed, my lord,’ she said, her eyes lowered demurely.

His jaw clenched. ‘I believe you know me well enough by now to realise that I have no care for what is considered “proper”.’

She gave a nervous smile. ‘I am not sure—’ Her words were cut off abruptly as Gabriel lowered his head and took possession of her lips.

Full and sensuous lips that had tempted him unbearably this past hour as Diana had first sipped her tea and then bit into a slice of buttered toast smothered in honey. He’d found himself imagining heatedly what other uses those deliciously plump lips might be put to…