"I am not at all nice," he said. "Just hungry, and you are my responsibility until I hand you over to the Tomlinsons. I will await you downstairs."
He had effectively wiped out the gentle voice she had heard. He was back to being himself. She wished she understood him but decided quickly that it wasn't worth her effort.
Lyon was a man of few words that evening, even withdrawn, and after a while, Diana gave up her attempts at civil conversation. She was one of very few females present in the small eatery, but Lyonel's forbidding expression kept any interested men at their distance.
They weren't, many of them, gentlemen. Seamen, sailors, merchants for the most part. But she didn't care. She ate her stewed beef with great enthusiasm and successfully chased her green peas about her plate with a fork.
Lyonel knew he'd made a mistake. The devil, he'd known it the minute the damned words had popped out of his mouth. He never should have agreed to take her back. He eyed her from across the small dining table, watching her make a game of catching the damned peas.
She's utterly guileless, he thought, then immediately drew himself up. No, no woman was guileless. He had learned his lesson; he just had to keep repeating that lesson to himself, evidently.
He walked quickly back to the Drake, forcing Diana to skip to keep up with him. He heard her mutter something, imagined accurately that it was an insult on his antecedents, and kept walking. He left her at her bedchamber door.
"You were exceedingly tedious company," Diana said as he turned to leave her without a word.
"Keep your door locked," he said over his shoulder.
"Which door?"
"Both, though you haven't a fear of me."
"I would be a faintheart if I feared you," she said, walked into her bedchamber, and slammed the door behind her.
Damned twit.
Diana, more weary than she'd believed, awoke very late the next morning. Indeed, she soon realized, it was nearly noon. She looked toward the adjoining door. She pulled on her dressing gown and knocked on the door. No answer. She turned the knob and found that the door was unlocked. She peered in. The room was empty. She returned to her room, wondering what to do. To her relief a maid soon arrived with a covered tray.
"Lord Saint Leven asked that you remain in your room," the girl recited.
Oh, he did, did he? Well, she would see about that!
"He also asked that I give you this book. For your enjoyment, his lordship said."
Diana took the book and found it a lurid novel. Her eyes lit up. Well, the afternoon should pass quickly enough.
She bathed, ate, then settled herself into the one chair to indulge in fantasies. She was giggling with delight when the heroine fainted in the second chapter.
There was a knock on the adjoining door at precisely five o'clock.
"Come," she called.
"Hello, Diana," said Lyon, coming into her room. "You are well amused, I trust?"
"It is most engrossing. The heroine has just succumbed again to the vapors."
"I selected it because it is one of Lucia's favorite authors. She doesn't want anyone to know, but she much enjoys this stuff."
Diana had nothing to say about that. She knew Lucia would be aghast that Lyon knew about her reading.
She sighed. "I miss her."
"I as well. I have loved her since the day when I was four years old and she pulled me out of a tree, kissed the scrape on my elbow, and didn't tell my father of my escapade."
"I cannot imagine you being four years old."
"I was a remarkable child."
"How have you amused yourself today, my lord?"