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  "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, hid 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.

  7

  We put our revenge at risk if we postpone it.

  —MOLIRE

  Diana, who hadn't heard a single word about anything, was delighted when Grumber, in her unique disinterest, informed her that his lordship was downstairs and wished to speak to her.

  She felt a happy lurch, frowned at herself, and quickly straightened her hair. Could it be that he had finally forgiven her?

  Lyonel was in conversation with Lucia. Upon Diana's entrance, he looked at her and smiled. "Hello, Diana."

  Relief flooded her. He had forgiven her. What she had done had cost her a goodly amount of sleep the past night. She had even found herself thinking of her mother, the magnificent Lily, dead when Diana was six years old, and wondered whether her mother had ever scolded her, particularly about eavesdropping. She couldn't dredge up one memory about such an occurrence, and sighed. Could she blame her motherless state for her lapse in doing the right things? No, there was Dido. "You say dat word agin, Missie, and I smack you, but good!"

  "Hello," she said now, smiling at the memory. She couldn't seem to remember the forbidden word.

  "It is a beautiful day," Lyonel said, wondering about that small secret smile. "Lucia has given us her permission to ride to Richmond. I think you would much enjoy it. Can you be ready to leave in say thirty minutes?"

  He really had forgiven her, he wasn't just being polite. She nodded. "Twenty minutes," she said, and left the drawing room with more speed than grace.

  Lyonel looked after her, a thoughtful expression on his face.

  "What are you planning, my boy?"

  "I?" A thick brow shot upward and a long finger brushed an invisible speck from his coat sleeve. "Why, not a thing, Lucia. Merely a day of pleasure for your little charge."

  "You forget I know you quite well. The look in your eyesWell, I should like to know what you are up to."

  She did know him well, curse her, Lyonel thought. He quickly got to his feet and poured himself a cup of tea.

  He managed to turn the conversation to Hawk and Frances.

  Twenty minutes later, Diana entered the drawing room, pulling on her York tan leather riding gloves. She was wearing her new royal-blue velvet riding habit, a jaunty hat upon her head with a matching blue feather sweeping beside her cheek.

  "You look lovely, my dear."

  Lyonel secretly agreed with Lucia, then quickly quashed his agreement. The little hussy was going to get her comeuppance today. Oh yes she was.

  He smiled easily. "A lady who can tell time," he said. "Come along, Diana. I brought along a mare for you."

  "You took my acquiescence for granted?"

  He said, drawing her just a bit, "Why, certainly, my dear. It cannot but add to your consequence to be seen with me."

  "Do not provoke me, Lyonel. I am vowing not to argue with you today."

  "I hope that you can adhere to it," he said, "though I doubt that you will. Lucia, we will return in the after noon." He kissed her and straightened. "Come along, Diana."

  "Enjoy yourselves," Lucia called after them. She felt very good. Lyonel was shaping up. Or was he? She was frowning when Didier entered to remove the tea remains. "You know, Didier, Lord Saint Leven is up to something."

  "More than likely it is true," said Didier mildly. "But his lordship is fair."

  "What does that mean, you old monk?" But Didier just gave her his patented oblique look and she shook her head. "How many years now, Didier?"

  "Twenty-one, my lady."

  "A deuced long time."

  "Indeed." He added as he balanced the tea tray on his arms, "As I said, Lord Saint Leven is a fair man."

  Lyonel was patting the by mare's nose. "Her name is Venus. She is spirited, but I assume you can handle her with ease." He waited until Diana had spoken to the mare, letting her sniff her hands, then he tossed her into the saddle. He gracefully mounted his own stallion, Lazar, a black brute with a white mane, a terror to those in the Four Horse Club.<
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  Diana, who had decided to put that awful evening behind her, chatted happily, admiring the scenery, praising the mare, praising Lyonel on his excellent idea for their outing.

  Lyonel responded well enough. He wished she didn't look so damned beautiful. No, it wasn't exactly her beauty that bothered him, he realized, it was her shining eyes, her very open happiness.

  They were nearing Richmond when Diana asked, somewhat diffidently, "Lucia hasn't let me out of the house. Have you heard anything?"

  "DuPres, I understand from Kenworthy, is leaving on Friday to visit friends in Berlin. He, ah, plans an extended stay. As for Charlotte, I will know about that soon. I would imagine that her husband just might take her to visit his estate in Cornwall. I doubt there will be further problems."

  "Goodness," Diana said, here eyes dancing. "You are most convincing, Lyon."

  "You should know," he said mildly. "You heard it all."

  She flushed and toyed with her mare's reins. "Yes, and please, I do apologize. I shall never speak of it to anyone, you may be certain."

  "No, you won't."

  "I just don't understand!"

  "What don't you understand?" He turned in his saddle to look at her.

  "How she could do that to you. Why, if I accepted a man's proposal of marriage, I should also be a faithful hound, just like you told her and ---"

  "You will strive for amnesia, Diana. I do not wish to discuss what you heard, ever again."

  "But ---"

  "Enough!"

  "You needn't yell at me! I just wanted to agree with you."

  He said nothing more, merely clicked his stallion into a gallop, leaving her to frown at his back.

  "Come along, Venus. His lordship is in a snit."

  They had luncheon in a small inn just outside Richmond, The King George.

  When Diana sat back in her chair, replete with cold chicken and warm crusty bread, Lyonel said, "There is a particularly charming place I want to show you."

  "Kew Gardens?"

  "No. It is a special place. A place I fancy that you will long remember. Are you ready?"

  She smiled at him. "Lead on, my lord."

  He did, and twenty minutes later they were in a small, very isolated glade that bordered on a narrow stream. Lyonel dismounted and tethered his stallion. He walked to Diana and lifted her down. He was very aware of her scent, of her softness. He quickly moved away from her.

  They walked to the edge of an incline that led down to the water's edge. "Not too close," he said. "The grass looks slippery. It must have rained here earlier."

  Diana drew in a deep breath. "Thank you for bringing me here, Lyon, 'tis beautiful. It is so different from home, you know."

  "Are you still cold all of the time?"

  "Rarely now. I think it is because Aunt gives me that you-are-a-weakling look if I say anything."

  "You don't like to be thought a weakling, do you, Diana?"

  "Does anyone?"

  "A man doesn't. As for a woman, who can say?"

  "You will not provoke me, my lord."

  "Excellent. Come here." He had seated himself on a large rock and was smiling at her.

  Diana walked toward him, her face filled with honest enjoyment, damn her. "Truly, thank you for bringing me here. I am pleased you wanted to show it to me."

  "Oh, there is much I intend to show you."

  He grasped her suddenly about her waist and in one graceful movement hauled her over his thighs. Diana, stunned, was quiet, but just for a moment. She arched upward, turning her face upward. "Lyonel! What are ---"

  "Listen to me, Diana Savarol," he said, holding her down. "I told you once that I would beat you. What you did deserves more, but a good thrashing will just have to suffice, for the moment."

  Her jaw dropped. "You mean you planned this?"

  "Exactly. Quite well, as you now realize."

  "But you cannot! It is ridiculous. Let me up at once!" She lurched wildly, and he realized he had quite a job cut out for him. He applied more strength, halting her wriggling. "Go ahead, yell, curse me, whatever you wish, you damned chit. It will do you no good."

  It was no easy task, but he finally managed to pull up the heavy velvet riding skirt. Lord, she was strong, he thought, now using all his strength to hold her down. He got the skirt and petticoat up to her waist and stared down at her flailing stockinged legs: the white garters that held them up were just above her knees, the smooth expanse of white thighs above. Her only covering was a thin cambric chemise. He brought the flat of his hand down on her buttocks.

  Diana yelled and cursed him, and he laughed, bringing his hand down again. "Never again will you do such a despicable thing. Do you understand me, Diana?"

  "I will throttle you, Lyonel Ashton! I will! Ow!"

  He growled and jerked up the chemise, tearing it. He brought his hand down on her bare buttocks.

  Diana felt the cold air on her bottom, realized that she was bare as the day she was born, and howled, in fury, humiliation, and pain. She arched her back up and kicked with her legs. His grip didn't loosen. "Stop, you damned bastard!"

  Again he brought his hand down. Suddenly, his hand raised, he looked at her, really looked. Her bottom was beautiful, soft, and very white, save for the red imprints of his hand. He brought his hand down again, but this time he didn't hit her hard. His fingers rested against her soft flesh, then caressed her, cupping her and gently easing inward between her slightly parted thighs. His fingers brushed her woman's flesh.

  Diana froze. Then she twisted frantically, a frightened cry bursting from her throat.

  Lyonel came to his senses. He saw his hand, as if it were another man's hand, caressing her buttocks and thighs. He cursed, pulled down her chemise, and hauled her upright. He was breathing hard.

  He jerked her around to face him. Her face was white, her eyes mirroring both confusion and outrage. She was furiously yanking her riding skirt down her legs.

  "Damn you," he said, and pulled her against him. He kissed her, hard, then immediately gentled the pressure against her lips.

  Diana didn't know what she felt. Pain from her burning bottom, a strange swirling sensation low in her belly, and a spurt of something she didn't understand as Lyonel's tongue pressed against her closed lips.

  "You are a thorn in my side," he said. "Enough. I trust you have learned your lesson."

  He released her suddenly, and she stumbled backward.

  They stared at each other.

  "You looked at me. You touched me."

  He felt swamped with guilt, but he refused to allow her to see it. "I beat you first. You deserved it. And don't get up in your maidenly arms, Diana. I have seen many ladies' bottoms. Yours is quite acceptable, but nothing ---"

  Diana, quick as a snake, brought up her knee and kicked him in the groin, hard.

  He sucked in his breath, knowing that the agony would come, and dropped to his knees like a stone. Waves of pain and nausea flooded him. He clutched his arms around his belly.

  Diana stared down at him, breathing hard. She'd never before kicked a man there, and she was shocked at the result. His face was white with pain.

  "I hate you," she said, whirled about, and ran from him.

  It took Lyonel a few more minutes to control the pain and clear his head. He was furious, so furious he could throttle her. He rose to his feet, saw her struggling with the mare's reins. He smiled and whistled. The mare perked up her ears at the sound, reared onto her hind legs, and calmly pulled away from Diana.

  Diana whirled about and yelled, "Damn you!" She saw him coming toward her. She'd wanted to mount the mare and ride away, taking his stallion with her. But it wasn't to be. "I was born under an unlucky star," she said, and releasing the recalcitrant mare's reins, she fled in the other direction.

  Lyonel was quickly gaining on her. She turned, lost her footing on the slippery grass at the edge of the incline, and went down on her aching bottom. She rolled and slid, crying out, trying to grab at something, a
nything.

  Lyonel watched her roll into the stream. There was a loud splash and a fan of water sprayed outward.

  He wasn't at all worried. The water was only a couple feet deep. He stood at the edge of the incline, his arms crossed over his chest, and watched her thrash about.

  Diana felt so angry, so very humiliated, she wanted to cry. She finally managed to pull herself upright. Her velvet skirts were like heavy weights, and her riding boots were squashing in the thick layer of mud at the stream bottom. She looked up and saw Lyonel standing there, legs spread, hands on his hips. He was laughing.

  She yelled the most vile curse she could think of at him.

  He laughed harder.

  She swiped away a slimy water weed that was falling over her face, and struggled back toward the shore. She quickly discovered that her heavy skirts had an affinity for the slippery water grass. She fell to her knees, trying with all her strength to pull herself up the incline. She was nearly there. Then she felt her feet slipping. Once again she slid back into the water on her stomach.

  And all she could hear was Lyonel's laughter.

  She was making an amazing fool of herself. Stop, you idiot, and think! She did. Without hesitation, she unfastened the heavy velvet skirt and pulled herself out of it. She rolled it into a ball and threw it onto the bank. Her riding jacket followed the skirt. Then her riding boots. Clad only in her petticoat, chemise, and thin lawn blouse, she managed to crawl out of the water and up the incline.

  She remained on her knees a moment, her head lowered, panting with exertion.

  She looked up to see his riding boots. She reached out to grab him by his ankles. But Lyonel was faster and beyond her reach in an instant.

  "You try that again, dear Diana, and I will throw you back in the water." His groin still ached. He meant every word he said.

  "I hate you."

  "Talk about being repetitious. You begin to sound like a half-wit. Of course, but you are a woman."

  "I will get you for this, Lyonel Ashton. I swear it."

  "Perhaps you will try. First, my dear, why don't you get dressed? You do look rather ridiculous, you know."