“You know his lordship. When he wants something, he doesn’t wait.” Laura stepped back as Diana passed her. The shock on her face was vivid. “You look…”
Diana’s color rose, and she crossed trembling arms over her breasts. Although nothing hid her lack of corset or that her gown was barely fastened.
As she had for so many years, she took refuge in practicalities. “I can’t go down to Marsham like this. Who did Burnley send?”
“Fredericks.”
The most superior of the footmen. Unfailingly loyal and obedient. A brawny thug who did Burnley’s dirty work. “How long has he been here?”
Laura, thank goodness, took the hint and didn’t pursue the subject of Diana’s disheveled appearance. “An hour. Maybe more.”
“Where is he now?” Diana removed her bonnet, and her hair tumbled around her face, another silent testimony to how she’d spent her afternoon.
“Downstairs in the kitchen. I sent him for supper.”
Diana picked up her creased skirts and hurried toward the back staircase. “I’ll change.”
“Do you need help?”
What she needed was a long soak in a bath and a night’s sleep. What she needed was a few hours without a howling conscience. What she needed was the chance to go back in time to a month ago. Before the devil offered her everything she coveted if she committed just one small sin that did no harm to anyone else.
One small sin that now threatened to destroy her.
“No, I’ll manage,” she said huskily.
Absurd to feel so close to tears. What she’d done today finally put her dreams within reach. That’s what she needed to think about, not the piercing sweetness of Ashcroft’s possession.
Laura touched her arm as Diana started climbing the stairs. She lowered her voice. “Did he hurt you?”
“No.”
From the time Burnley first broached his plan, Laura had listed pitfalls, including the possibility that Lord Ashcroft was violent. Diana wished Ashcroft had been less careful with her, less willing to rein in his desire to ensure her pleasure. She desperately needed to find something about him to dislike.
I do him no harm.
The rote insistence didn’t even register against the shriek of her conscience. It had been easy believing him immune before she met him. Harder when she’d breathed his musky scent, touched his sleek skin, listened to his hoarse praise while he took her to the stars.
Laura didn’t immediately release her, although they both knew Lord Burnley hated to wait. “Are you sure? You don’t seem yourself.”
Diana shook herself free, and a humorless smile twisted her lips. “I just whored myself in return for life as a marchioness. Of course I’m not myself.”
A frown drew Laura’s fine dark brows together. “You slept with him, then?”
Diana made a derisive gesture toward her disorderly clothing. “Isn’t it obvious?”
Laura looked pale and distraught. “I wondered if, when the moment came, you’d change your mind.”
Diana knew what her friend really meant was she’d hoped some shred of ethical behavior would surface from the murk in Diana’s soul.
She couldn’t retreat now. She’d gone too far down Lord Burnley’s luxurious path to hell. And she couldn’t tell Laura that her desire for Ashcroft was so powerful, she’d barely recalled her wicked plans once he’d touched her.
She could hardly countenance that reality. The honesty of her passion made her scheme all the more tawdry.
And made her feel a whore indeed.
“No, I did it,” Diana said curtly. She turned and purposefully marched up the stairs. “Please tell Fredericks I’ll be ready in twenty minutes.”
“As you wish.” Laura’s voice was flat with all the things she resisted saying. Thank the Lord, she did resist.