She deliberately made her tone light, as if she spoke of unimportant matters. “You won’t be going back just yet, Mr. Brown. I’m only here to collect a few belongings. I’m for London this morning.”
In a few minutes if his lordship’s carriage arrived on time. She’d delayed this meeting until the last possible moment so her father couldn’t quiz her.
Her belly clenched with anguish as she watched disappointment shadow her father’s expression. “Must you? There’s work here. Work only you can do.”
How typical he wouldn’t mention that her absence left him lonely and lost, rattling around this house like a pea inside a box. She’d even taken Laura away.
Mr. Brown ducked his head, his prominent Adam’s apple bobbing as if he scented an argument in the offing. “If you’ll excuse me, Mr. Dean. I’ll find Mr. Parker and ask about the lumber for the west wing.”
“Yes, yes,” her father agreed with a hint of impatience.
John Dean was the kindest of men. The edge in his tone indicated that his assistant wasn’t everything he’d hoped.
When they were alone, Diana forced herself to persevere with the story she and the marquess had agreed upon what felt like so long ago, although it was only a matter of weeks. Disconcerting to think subterfuge had completely altered her life in that short time.
“Lady Kelso is most insistent I return.” She hoped her father wouldn’t hear the lie. “Lord Burnley wrote to say he appreciated my efforts.”
Her father looked unconvinced. “Why should Lady Kelso care whether a stranger does her bidding? What are you and Laura to Lady Kelso? You waste your time in London, Diana. And I…need you.”
Regret gnawed at her. She knew what the admission cost him. “Lord Burnley is most insistent I stay with Lady Kelso for the summer, Papa. You know what we owe him.”
They did in fact owe Burnley more than she wanted to acknowledge. He’d allowed her father to continue in his position even while Diana took over the reins of the estate. Most employers would have pensioned her father off, but for some reason, Burnley showed a loyalty to his bailiff he’d shown nobody else in his self-indulgent life. And Burnley had given her a chance to prove her mettle when the majority of men would have dismissed her as a useless female.
Her father grumbled under his breath and fumbled for his stick. It was a sign of his distress that he missed it and knocked it clattering to the floor. Rex whined and struggled onto his arthritic legs, shuffling over to nose at his master’s leg in canine comfort.
Swallowing more stinging tears, Diana bent to pick up the stick and pass it to her father. She wished to heaven she hadn’t waited to see him. She’d thought their interview before she left was bad enough, but this was worse.
Perhaps because after what she’d done with Ashcroft yesterday, she could no longer claim to be his pure daughter. The woman he’d raised to be a credit to him. The realization of how she’d changed made her feel sick.
Her clarity of purpose sank into a mire of conflicting emotions.
Before she’d left for London, everything had seemed straightforward. She’d sleep with a man who would care only that she offered a willing body. She’d get pregnant. She’d take over Cranston Abbey as its custodian until her son reached his majority.
That tidy, inevitable progression of events now seemed almost laughably implausible. She hadn’t considered the subtle influence of personalities. Hers. Burnley’s. Her father’s. Laura’s. Above all, Ashcroft’s.
You are such a naïve little fool, Diana.
She’d entered into Lord Burnley’s plot too lightly, without considering final costs. Excitement at the promise of becoming mistress of Cranston Abbey had blinded her.
Surreptitiously, her hand flattened across her belly, knowing her father wouldn’t see. Could a child be growing there? It still seemed unbelievable, but after yesterday she might indeed be pregnant. She hoped her baby grew up to be a better person than its mother.
When Burnley broached the scheme, six weeks playing another woman with another life had appeared easy. After experiencing Ashcroft’s passion, she knew if she didn’t bring this affair to a swift end, it would destroy her. Already she felt torn in two with what she did.
“So when will you be home?” her father asked sharply. “I don’t like this. I don’t like it at all.”
Clearly, her daily letters reporting completely mythical activities with Lady Kelso, Lord Burnley’s cousin, hadn’t soothed his displeasure. She laid her hand on top of the fist that clutched the head of his stick. “Papa, I told you, I may have to stay until September. If I change my mind now, I’ll displease Lord Burnley.”
Her father’s anger evaporated, but to her dismay, concern replaced it. “There’s something you’re not telling me, child. I fear you’ll find yourself beyond your depth with people not of our class. I’d hate you to be hurt.”
She stiffened, then forced herself to relax before her father sensed her discomfort. Wildly, she cast about for something to allay his fears. “Papa, I do Lord Burnley’s bidding.”
“While I’m always grateful for his favor, Lord Burnley’s schemes are usually to the advantage of Lord Burnley, Diana.”
That was true, but this scheme worked not just to Burnley’s advantage, but to hers too.
She tried to sound lighthearted even as remorse weighed down her heart. “Papa, I’m too smart to let anyone take advantage of me.”
Her father’s lips twitched in reluctant amusement. “I know you think you are. You’re far away and among strangers. I worry when I can’t watch over you.”