He had a question of his own, although he already knew the answer. He was surprised to realize he’d always known it, even when his misery made him curse Diana as a traitorous witch.
“Was it really all lies, what happened between us in London?”
“Why should you believe anything I say?” she said unhappily, refusing to meet his eyes and folding her arms in front of her in a defensive stance.
He fell back on the unadorned truth. “Because I believe in you.”
“You shouldn’t,” she said in a thick voice, still not looking at him. Her quivering tension made him resist the urge to fold her in his arms and insist he didn’t care about her sins.
He understood why she wanted his anger. Although he could tell that the turmoil she’d suffered in the last months had already punished her to the point of destruction.
For a moment, a taut silence extended. A silence broken by her ragged breathing. Then she chanced a glance in his direction. A frown darkened her face, and she stepped closer, although not close enough to touch him. Again, he had to battle the impulse to drag her into his arms.
“Ashcroft, you shouldn’t be standing.”
His jaw hardened in stubbornness. “Bugger my injuries. Answer me.”
“Please…” She drew a shaking breath. “Please sit down, and I’ll tell you everything you want.”
For the thousandth time, he consigned his physical infirmities to the deepest realms of Hades. “Very well,” he said unwillingly.
He limped the few steps to a weathered oak bench not far from the graves. He imagined it was a place Diana had often sat during the quiet, lonely years of her widowhood. Carefully, he lowered himself. While he hated to admit she was right, he couldn’t remain upright much longer.
Biting her lips, she laced trembling hands at her waist. Her tone turned low and intense. “Of course it wasn’t all lies. The desire was always real.”
“Just the desire?” He tensed as he awaited her answer.
“And the love,” she said in a choked voice, turning away and staring into the distance as if she made a shameful confession. “I fought against loving you, but how could I stop myself? You’re the man I’ve waited for my whole life.”
His hands fisted on his knees even as her admission made his heart lurch with raw joy. The craving to touch her was like a scream, but he beat it back. “You still love me. Or at least you told Burnley you did.”
“Yes, I do love you,” she said huskily. She went on as if she hadn’t said anything extraordinary. “That only makes what I did worse. I could have stopped. I should have stopped. Once I realized what you were like, once I recognized how I wronged you.”
“You were afraid of Burnley.”
“No.” She looked directly at Ashcroft, and the stark honesty in her face stabbed him to the soul. “Well, of course I was afraid of him. I’m not a fool—he’s a frightening man. But the truth is once we became lovers, I couldn’t bear to leave you. I knew if I confessed what I did, you’d hate me and send me away.”
He derived some consolation from learning that during those tumultuous weeks in London, when he’d felt so helpless against his hunger for her, she’d felt equally helpless.
“When I started this, I wanted the Abbey.” Her voice was subdued. “It was a kind of sickness. I’d do anything to get what I wanted, even turn thief and liar and whore.”
“I’m sorry I can’t give you the house.” He’d bring the moon down from the sky if it would make her happy.
He supposed that as Burnley’s last surviving offspring, he should summon some interest in Cranston Abbey. He couldn’t. He’d seized Burnley’s greatest treasure when he stole Diana from his father. Anything else, including the impressive baroque pile that was the Fanshawe seat, came tainted with the old man’s evil.
Diana shook her head. “Don’t be sorry. Justice has been served. Lord Burnley deserved to fail, and so did I.”
No. No, no, no.
His heart slammed against his chest in burning denial. “Do you feel like you failed?” he asked sharply. “Really? Even now?”
Her eyes were stormy with anguish. “I don’t care about the Abbey. I haven’t cared for a long time. I only care about you. And I feel like I failed you.”
Oh, dear God, he couldn’t bear it. Yes, she’d hurt him. Yes, she’d acted against her deepest principles. But he couldn’t endure hearing her denigrating herself like this.
Not his Diana. His Diana was proud and beautiful and brave.
With a clumsiness he resented, he jerked to his feet. As his weight came down on his stiff leg, he stumbled.