"I hope you will not catch some vile disease."
"I am not a fool, Lucia."
"About Diana convalescing in the country ---"
"Do as you please, Lucia, just leave me out of it."
She watched him stride from her drawing room. She was not at all cast down. Indeed, she was fascinated with his contorted efforts at remaining immune to Diana. She would, she decided, grinning shamelessly, leave him out of it, at least for the moment.
Lyonel did visit Lois and was sweetly received. He took her to bed immediately and found to his relief that his body responded as it should, evidently receiving no paralyzing messages from his brain. He gave her a bracelet and prepared to leave.
"My lord?"
He was buttoning his shirt. "Hmm?"
"I have missed you. Could you not remain with me awhile? I have been a bit lonely."
"No," he said, pulling on his coat, not without some difficulty. "I'm sorry, Lois, but a relative of mine is ill. I have promised to visit her."
"Miss Savarol?"
More meddlesome women, he thought. "Yes," he said evenly. "How did you know?"
"My maid. Her cousin is a parlor maid in the Marchpanes' household. She heard the lady speaking of it."
"And what report did you hear?"
"That Miss Savarol fainted in your arms in the middle of the ballroom. That her illness seemed most strange."
Evidently Lois hadn't received an update from her maid.
Lyon could easily guess everyone's initial reaction. He supposed when he'd mentioned to Diana that gossip could begin that she was with child, he had known it as a real possibility. Charlotte was indeed on her way to Cornwall, so she couldn't be responsible, though he imagined it wasn't beyond her to add some damaging speculation before she left. He sighed, wishing the aristocracy had something positive to discuss rather than possible fellow-human failings. Then again, he could not but be aware that anyone with a grain of perception could see the tension between him and Diana. The devil, should he wear a placard announcing that the wretched tension between them had nothing to do with sex? On the heels of that thought, he knew he was lying to himself, and he cursed softly.
"The girl, Miss Savarol, was very ill. She was lucky she didn't go into pneumonia. She is now on the mend. Do pass that along to your maid."
Lois regarded her lover and protector. She liked him. He was generous and he was kind. He knew a woman's body and enjoyed a woman's pleasure. Had he seduced this Miss Savarol? She didn't as yet understand him well enough to know if he was that sort of man, but she doubted it. He certainly possessed the masculine charms to bring a woman about to his thinking if that was his purpose. She said, knowing it an impertinence, "Then she isn't with child."
"As I said, she nearly contracted pneumonia. I would prefer that you not gossip, Lois. It does not please me."
He'd spoken softly, gently, but Lois wasn't fooled. He was angry. He cared for this Miss Savarol. "No, my lord, I won't, not anymore. Please forgive me."
Lyon wondered in that moment how he would react if Diana spoke to him in that sweet, apologetic tone, her eyes slightly lowered, showing her respect for him, her deference. I should live so long, he thought.
"Very well," he said. He strode to the bed, eyed her plentiful breasts one final time, and lightly kissed her cheek. "I will see you soon, my dear."
His body had responded nicely, he thought as he strolled down the street some minutes later. But unwanted flashes of Diana's beautiful buttocks had leapt into his mind. And the movement of his own hand and fingers caressing herand her thighs, slightly parted, giving him access to
"Damned twit," he said, and walked faster, to keep pace with his rather erratic breathing.
He discovered quickly that there was no need to mention that Diana's illness had been in her chest and not the result of a babe in her womb. Her admirers, those constant visitors with all their damned posies, had already seen to it. He smiled sourly to himself.
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"I will not go," Diana said firmly to Lucia. "I do not need to recuperate in the country, much less at Lyon's estate."
Now it was Lyon's turn to eavesdrop. He stood listening outside Diana's bedchamber door. It did not occur to him, even for an instant, to remove himself from that door. It was odd, but he was at once relieved and disappointed that she was refusing to go to the country. He heard Lucia's voice, but could only make out something about his, Lyon's, concern for her.
"The last thing Lyon wants is to have to drag me off to his estate," Diana continued in a louder voice. "It was not his fault that I caught a rather nasty chill. Aunt, he doesn't like me, truly he doesn't. He wants nothing to do with me."