A Most Unsuitable Bride. Gail Whitiker
Still, there was no point in reading more into it than was warranted. Once he found out who she was—the woman who had jilted Lord Durling—it would surely be over. Edward was sure to know what had taken place between Diana Hepworth and Lord Durling. Perhaps he was even a friend of Lord Durling’s and had heard first hand the lies he’d told about her.
Lies, Diana reflected bitterly, told to camouflage the depth of his own wickedness.
Unfortunately, Edward wouldn’t know that. He would only know that Diana Hepworth was a callous, deceitful woman who had pretended to love a man, only to cast him aside when she decided to look for someone better. A woman with no scruples, and who would do whatever it took to marry the richest man she could—even if it meant jilting a man who had been prepared to swear a lifetime of love and devotion to her.
Diana sighed. Those were the stories Edward would have heard, because those were the lies Lord Durling had circulated. They were also the reasons she couldn’t tell him the truth. She didn’t want to see the expression on his face change, or the softness in his eyes harden into disgust when he looked at her. As foolish as it might be, Diana wanted Edward to think well of her, and for a few days, perhaps even a few weeks, she might be able to do that. They could ride together in the mornings and enjoy their conversations. They would talk to one another as equals, free to voice their respective opinions, and to suffer no consequences as a result, because in that regard Phoebe was right.
There was a decided lack of stimulating conversation to be had in Whitley. Try as she might, Diana often found the topics of discussion reverting back to the same old subjects, namely how the rain—or lack thereof—was going to affect the crops, and whether or not old Mrs Fenton would make it through the winter. However, it was where she had grown up, and where circumstances four years ago had compelled her to return. And though Diana was determined to make the best of it, that didn’t mean she would willingly give up the opportunity of enjoying intelligent conversation with a man like Lord Garthdale, now that it had been presented to her.
And so, she decided to allow herself these precious moments in time. She knew they would be fleeting, but she would give herself the pleasure of speaking to a man who valued her opinions and to whom she could speak without fear of censure or contempt. Her aunt had said it best. Time did pass quickly. And in the scheme of things, Diana had no doubt that four weeks, like four years, would pass in little more than the blink of an eye!
‘Come, Phoebe, we shall be late!’ Diana called, stopping by the door of her cousin’s room. ‘The carriage is waiting.’
‘I’m coming, Diana. Just a few more minutes! Marie is finishing my hair!’
Diana silently turned and continued on towards the stairs. They were to attend the Townleys’ soirée this evening, and it seemed as though the entire house was at sixes and sevens. Not only because it would mark Phoebe’s unofficial entrance into society, but because it was also Diana’s first foray into society in over four years.
It was understandable that both ladies were suffering considerable nerves.
It hadn’t helped that Mrs Mitchell had forgotten that it was tonight the reception was to be held. Indeed, it was only thanks to her having run into Mrs Townley and Amanda at Layton and Shears that morning that she had discovered her oversight. Then there had been a positive flurry of last-minute preparations as gowns, gloves and other necessities had been pulled out and made ready.
But equally important were Mrs Mitchell’s repeated assurances that Amanda was longing to see her dear friend again.
Diana wished she could say the same. That is, she wished she could say that the prospect of attending a society event at which Amanda would be present was not overshadowed by the thought that so many other people would be there as well. Still, it was a special night for Amanda, and Diana had no intention of missing it.
‘Ah, there you are, my dear,’ Mrs Mitchell said, standing at the foot of the stairs. ‘And looking exceptionally lovely, I must say. Madame Claremont knew what she was talking about when she suggested that gown for you. The simplicity of the design makes it appear very elegant, and I knew the shade would look well on you. You are going to attract a great deal of attention this evening, my dear, and not for the reasons you fear.’
Diana smiled, comfortable in the knowledge that she did at least look well for the evening’s festivities. The soft apricot gown with demi-train was one of the many Mrs Mitchell had ordered for her. The style was highly flattering to the slender lines of her figure, and the colour was a perfect compliment to the fairness of her skin. Her aunt’s petite French maid, Marie, had arranged her dark hair in a cluster of curls atop her head, and had set a dainty gold clip in the back. The rest of her jewellery was simple. Her mother’s pearl earrings, and a necklace of gold and pearls that nestled in the shadowy cleft between her breasts.
Phoebe came down not long after, looking radiant in a gown of white satin trimmed with deep rose. Her blonde hair was arranged in a soft tumble of curls to one side of her face, making her appear very young and appealing. Mrs Mitchell, who was herself gowned in deep blue silk, gave her a brief nod of approval, and then led the way out to the waiting carriage.
‘Courage, my dears,’ she said as they settled in for the short ride to the Townleys’ house. ‘Keep your chins up, your smiles bright, and, like the inimitable Sarah Siddons, you shall have all of London falling at your feet!’
Diana smiled and sat back against the cushions. Encouraging words, she reflected, though only time would tell how helpful they would be. Nevertheless, she took a deep breath, whispered a silent prayer, and waited for the proverbial curtain to rise.
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