Laura smiled. “I knew he wouldn’t let you marry that devil.”
The sparse congregation surged out of the church, buzzing with avid curiosity. Ashcroft was thoroughly sick of conducting his private affairs under a public gaze. “Let’s go.”
He handed Diana and Miss Smith into the carriage and leaped in after them, then grimaced as his leg reminded him he wasn’t ready to bound anywhere yet. He settled on the seat opposite the two women, his back to the horses. He would give his right arm to sit next to Diana, to touch her. Especially as with every second, she seemed to withdraw further from him.
His injuries must shock her. Was that the only thing that perturbed her?
For one glorious instant inside the church, he’d thought all their difficulties were behind them. Clearly, his joy had been precipitate.
Patience, he reminded himself. He’d waited months for this. He could wait another hour or so.
Diana’s gaze glittered with troubled emotion as it settled on him. She took stock of his physical state, he guessed. He loathed that he didn’t come to her a whole man.
The carriage rolled into motion. “You don’t look like you should have left your bed.” Diana’s voice was husky. “Will you be all right?”
He shrugged. “The doctors say I’ll recover. My leg’s the worst of it, and, of course, the scar. But with time, I’ll be good as new.”
“I’m glad,” Miss Smith said.
“But still you’ve suffered because of me,” Diana said almost soundlessly. “It’s my fault.”
He reached forward and took her hand. It trembled in his, and for one tense moment, he wondered if she meant to pull away. With every second, he felt the chasm between them widening, and, damn it all, he didn’t know what to do about it.
He itched to sweep her into his arms, to share everything in his heart, but he needed privacy and time to resolve what still lay unspoken between them. And right now, he had neither.
“It doesn’t matter, Diana.” He meant it.
“Yes, it does.”
He couldn’t mistake the flash of guilty devastation in her expression before she turned and stared fixedly out the window. His hand tightened on hers in silent confirmation that the only thing that mattered was that they were now together. He just hoped to hell he could make her believe that too.
Ashcroft had brought an army of servants and a cavalcade of vehicles from London. When he’d made his plans for evacuating John Dean, he hadn’t been sure Diana would reject Burnley. If she did, they’d need to get out of Marsham quickly and completely.
To his surprise, Mr. Dean unhesitatingly agreed to abandon his home. Ashcroft realized that after a lifetime in Burnley’s employ, John Dean held no illusions about how the marquess was likely to react now his plans were curtailed. Diana’s father looked less than overjoyed to have the notorious Earl of Ashcroft in his house, but he was cooperative about his departure.
Right now, Ashcroft didn’t care about the reception the old man gave him. He cared about making sure everyone Diana loved was safe. He cared about getting Diana away from this accursed place that had nearly destroyed her.
It was only after a bustling hour, when the house was empty and Miss Smith, Mr. Dean and a bewildered Rex were safely tucked into the carriage, that Ashcroft realized he hadn’t seen Diana. She’d supervised the start of the packing, but he couldn’t recall catching a glimpse of her since.
Fear carved an icy trail down his backbone. Surely Burnley couldn’t snatch her without someone raising the alarm. The place swarmed with Ashcroft’s servants.
She must be somewhere finishing up a last task before she left. Still, he set off at a broken run through every room, then the back garden. No sign of Diana. He damned his imperfect body, which moved so slowly when he needed to be in fighting condition.
His heart thumping in panic, he dashed up to the carriage. “Diana’s missing.”
Miss Smith started to rise, her face tight with concern. “She went inside when we got back from the church.”
“Have you seen her since?”
“No.”
“Mr. Dean?”
The blind man curled his hands over his stick and frowned thoughtfully. “Have you tried the churchyard?”
“Why would she…” Ashcroft stopped, knowing he wasted time, and turned back.
If her father thought Diana might be in the churchyard, that was where he’d look. He had to find her before Burnley did. Grotesque images of the marquess making her pay for her defiance danced through his mind.