PROLOGUE
Esterley Castle, Northumberland—February, 1809
Diana de Wolfe awoke, immediately struck by the familiar nausea of the past few weeks. She tossed back the bedsheets and barely made it to the chamber pot.
What was she going to do?
She needed to speak to John Coke to see if word had come from Stephen. She’d only received one letter from him since his father had discovered them together late one night in the stables almost three months ago. She could still hear Esterley’s head groom, his voice hissing like a snake, as he berated his only son for foolishly touching the Earl of Reston’s daughter.
If only Coke had known it was more than touching. Much more. By the time Coke arrived, Diana’s skirts were back down to her ankles and she and Stephen passionately kissed. She’d been the one who’d played the dangerous game, daring the young man to go further each time they kissed, the notion that she would find love tempting her beyond reason. Once the brief, painful act ended, she wondered what the fuss was all about. Beyond Stephen’s kisses, which she found enjoyable, the rest of his touches left her empty.
Curiosity had always been her downfall. From the time she could walk, Diana was into everything at Esterley. She had to touch everything. See everything. Taste everything in order to satisfy the burning need in her to know all. Kissing had been no different. She’d caught servants doing it in darkened corners, hearing their contented sighs and wanting to see what all the fuss was about.
The trouble had been no one was willing to kiss her. Not any of her older brother’s friends. They were all too terrified of what the Earl of Reston might do to them if he caught them in a compromising position with his firstborn daughter. The same went for any of the servants near her age. None of them was willing to risk losing their positions—or perhaps their very lives—if Rafe de Wolfe found them being intimate with Diana.
It had taken her almost a year to wear down Stephen Coke, one of their very handsome grooms. Even then, she’d been the one to pursue him, taking him to the last stall in the stables and kissing him square on the mouth after he’d barely touched his lips against hers. When she told him kissing involved much more than that, he’d laughed nervously and told her he knew. After a few more clandestine meetings with light, affectionate kisses traded between them, he’d finally opened to her—literally—and taught her some of the things she was eager to learn, including using his tongue, which she found most interesting.
Kissing had led to other things, none of which appealed to her, but it seemed to affect Stephen a great deal. His cock had grown to an alarming size and he’d taught her how to hold and then stroke it. That last time, before his father caught them together, he’d begged her to let him put it inside her.
Foolishly, she’d agreed.
It had hurt like the dickens and she’d pushed him away as soon as he collapsed atop her. He’d begun kissing her again—and then John Coke had surprised them.
The next day, Stephen left Esterley to join the army. With England at war with Bonaparte, the king always needed new recruits. Diana hadn’t even had a chance to tell her lover goodbye. He’d written to her once he’d arrived at camp, where he would train briefly before going to the front. No letters came after that.
Now, Diana found herself in the kind of trouble that only happened to a woman. Though she hadn’t gone riding once since Stephen’s departure, all to avoid seeing his father, she would go to the stables and speak with John Coke now. She needed to know if somehow a way could be found to bring Stephen home.
To marry her.
As she quickly dressed in a simple gown that allowed her to do so without help from a maid, a part of her knew this was a fool’s errand. Once committed to the army, she didn’t see how a soldier could be released. Even if he were, her heart told her that her father would never allow her to wed a lowly groom. Diana was a de Wolfe, descended from the noble line of William de Wolfe, one of England’s legendary warriors in the days of old. As it was, she was meant to travel to London in two months and participate in the Season. All de Wolfe ladies did. They made brilliant matches with wealthy, titled gentlemen, uniting the de Wolfes with powerful families all across England over the decades.
But how could she go to London in her current condition?
Slipping from her bedchamber, Diana left the castle and hurried to the stables. As she approached, trepidation filled her. She didn’t know if she’d be able to find the words to communicate with the groom. How was she supposed to bring up her current condition? As she approached, none other than John Coke emerged from the stables, his face ravaged with grief. Their eyes met—and Diana knew.
Coke’s demeanor instantly changed as strode toward her, anger sparking in his eyes. He waved a letter in front of her face.
“You’re the one who did this,” he growled. “You’re the reason my boy’s dead.”
Guilt filled her. “What happened?”
“What happened is Stephen would be safe and sound here at Esterley if you hadn’t tempted him with your smiles and that body. I would never have had to send him away. You killed him, Lady Diana, as sure as if you pulled the gun’s trigger.”
“I’m sorry.” She placed a hand on his sleeve but he shook it off.
“Go on,” he demanded. “I don’t want to see your face. Not today. Not any day. And don’t you dare tattle to your father about what I said. You deserve my wrath for being so thoughtless and selfish.”
She could only nod in agreement. Nothing she could do or say to this man would bring back his son. Coke had lost his wife five years ago and now his only child. He would never forgive her.
Diana would never forgive herself.
Returning to the castle, she went to her room. Only then, with no prying eyes, did she shed tears for the young man who would never grow old. He’d never see the child they’d made.
What was she going to do?
She bathed her face in cool water and went downstairs for breakfast. Thank goodness her mother always ate the morning meal in her room. She would immediately have noticed Diana’s red-rimmed eyes. Thea, too, would have asked what was wrong with her older sister but she took her meals in the schoolroom under the supervision of her governess. Her father was too busy talking to his estate manager to notice her. She ate a few bites of dry toast and pushed an egg around on her plate. Only the cup of tea soothed her.
As she left the breakfast room, their butler called her name.
“Lady Diana, the seamstress is here. Shall I have her escorted to your chamber?”
Bloody hell. The woman was here to measure her for the gowns that would be sewn in preparation of Diana’s Season. There was no hiding from the truth now.
“Where is she?”
“In the foyer, my lady.”
“I’ll go to her. Thank you.”
Diana made her way there and saw Miss Grant waiting.
“Ah, there you are, Lady Diana. I’m delighted to be working with you.” She patted the satchel she carried. “Besides my tape measure, I’ve brought a few sketches of my designs that I’d like you and your mother to see, along with some swatches of material. Oh, this is going to be so much fun. Shall we go to your chamber or Lady Reston’s?”
“Mine,” Diana said. She couldn’t very well say what she had to say to the seamstress here. Who knew what servants lurked about?
“This way.”
Diana led Miss Grant upstairs and ushered her into the bedchamber. She closed the door behind them—and then fear paralyzed her. She simply stood mute. No words would come.
Miss Grant looked upon her with sympathy. “I know it’s a lot to take in. A young girl, going to London for the first time. All the men you’ll meet. It must be overwhelming. Never fear, my lady. Just as knights of old went into battle wearing their armor, the gowns I make for you will see that you’re confident entering ballrooms. Why, with your beauty and family name, you can land any man you choose.” She smiled. “Maybe you’ll set your cap for a duke.”
Chuckling, the woman set her satchel on the nearest chair and opened it, pulling out items. Diana went to stand before her.
“You’ll need to remove your dress, my dear. You may leave on your stays and chemise.”
Reluctantly, she pulled the dress from her with help from Miss Grant, who placed it across the bed to keep it from wrinkling. Reaching for her tape measure, she brought it toward Diana and slipped it around her bosom.
“You’ve a lovely bosom, my dear. It will make the dresses your wear so flattering. I’ll be sure a few are cut a little lower to show off . . .” The seamstress’ voice trailed off.
Her eyes were tightly shut but she knew the woman had loosened the tape and had placed it around Diana’s waist. Nothing could have hidden the growing bulge.
Miss Grant’s hands fell away and she sputtered, “Why, I never . . . you are . . . oh, dear. Oh, dear.”
Diana opened her eyes to see the horror on the older woman’s face. Her lips trembled as Miss Grant backed away.
“What will your father say?”
Quickly, the seamstress hurried to the bed, tossing into the satchel drawings of the dresses Diana would never wear. Slamming the satchel shut, Miss Grant hurried from the room, her eyes downcast. The woman would go straight to her father. She better dress so when the summons came, she’d be ready.
She pulled the gown over her head and smoothed the skirt down before sitting in a chair, her hands neatly folded in her lap. She hadn’t loved Stephen but felt great sorrow at his death, knowing he would never have willingly joined the army of his own accord. Shame also filled her for what she’d done with him. It hadn’t even been fun as she’d thought. It was painful and over quickly. She doubted she’d ever want to do it again with any man.
Of course, no man would have her now. She was ruined.
There’d be no Season. No balls or parties. No pretty dresses. No men flirting with her or offering for her. Her life as she knew it was over. All for a moment’s indiscretion that had been disappointing.
Her father burst through the door, his face filled with rage. He came to stand in front of her, breathing hard, anger holding his words hostage.
Her mother ran in, tears pouring down her face. “Oh, Diana, how could you?”
She rose to face what felt like an executioner.
“Who?” her father roared. “Who did this to you?”
Diana decided no good would come from revealing it was Stephen. For all she knew, her father would be so angry that he might force John Coke from Esterley, even though this mess wasn’t the groom’s fault. She couldn’t be responsible for the man losing his position, especially after she’d cost him his son.
“I cannot say.”
He studied her a moment. “It wouldn’t have been any of Donald’s friends. They’ve all gone off to university.”
Diana didn’t mention that none of Donald’s friends came around anymore since her brother’s death last year.
“Derek’s friends are too young—and too frightened of me—to even think of laying a hand on you.” He paused. “It must have been some local lad who caught your fancy. He only used you, Diana. Unless it was a servant. If so, I’ll do worse than sack him.
“I’ll kill him for touching you.”
Diana wished she could say her lover was dead but she didn’t want to give her father the satisfaction of knowing Stephen’s name. She merely gazed straight ahead.
“There’ll be no Season,” her mother wailed.
“Miss Grant said it looks as if you’re three months along. Is that about right?” her father asked.
She nodded.
“Then it’s too late to marry you off quickly. You already have a reputation of being too hard to control.”
“We’ll wait for next Season,” her mother insisted. “We’ll find Diana some lovely lord who lives in the south. One that doesn’t know her . . . reputation for being so stubborn and hard-headed.”
“It’s the only way,” her father agreed. “If it can be managed.”
“I doubt any gentleman will want me with a baby,” she said.
The earl frowned. “You don’t think I’ll allow you to keep this child, do you?”
Her heart pounded against her ribs at his words. “Of course, I’ll keep it.” She paused, seeing his jaw tighten. “You’re joking.”
“You think? Then you don’t know me at all, Daughter.”
“You’d rip your grandchild from me? You’re a hard man, Father, but you’re not deliberately cruel.”
“The child will go to some tenant’s family. That’s the way things are done when trouble like this arises. I’ll pay them for its keep. You’ll never learn which family. You’ll never see it again. I’ll not have a daughter of mine raising her bastard at Esterley.”
Anger rushed through her. “You won’t allow a bastard here? How many of your bastards are scattered for miles around us? You’re telling me it’s perfectly all right for men to father bastards but not for me to give birth to one. A baby that will be half-de Wolfe. You’re a hypocrite, Father.”
He slapped her and then stepped back, his features immobile. “Never speak to me like that again.”
Diana’s hands went to her belly. “I have my child to protect. I’ll stand up to you or anyone else who thinks they’ll part me from it.”
His eyes narrowed. “You’re a fool to do so.” He studied her. “You really think to keep it?”
Determination filled her. “Yes.”
“Then it won’t be here. I’m banishing you from Esterley.”
Her mother began bawling and fell at her husband’s feet. “No, Reston. Please, don’t.”
“Silence!” He glared at his wife and she crawled away, remaining crouched on the floor.
“I cannot allow you to remain. Thea mustn’t be exposed to your wicked example. Derek must also learn that this isn’t tolerated in our family. You’ve brought shame to the de Wolfe name, all for a few moments of pleasure.”
Diana reined in her temper, knowing nothing she could say would change her father’s mind, not even reminding him of the family slogan—to protect family above all.
“I won’t totally cut you off. I’ll rent a cottage for you to live in. Give you a few pounds a year. Not enough for servants to wait on you. You’ll learn to do your own cooking and cleaning. Wash your own clothes and the dirty cloths of your bastard. You’ll do it all. Maybe then you’ll come to your senses and give up this bloody nonsense.”
Resolve poured through Diana. Bravely, she said, “You’ll be the one missing out. Not me. Not Mama or Derek or Thea.”
“I forbid anyone from the family to see you.”
His words caused her mother to weep hysterically. The earl turned to his wife. “Don’t cross me, Madam. If you defy me, you’ll go with her and never be allowed to return.”
Diana knew her mother would never be strong enough to stand against Rafe de Wolfe. For all she knew, this would be the last time they saw one another. The thought brought so much misery to her that she didn’t know if she truly made the right choice or not. Then she thought of the life growing within her and knew she could never give up her own babe.
“I thought de Wolfes were courageous and caring. That our name stood for loyalty to family.”
Her father shook his head. “I’m doing what is best. You’ll come around, Diana.”
She knew her very stubbornness would keep her from bending to his will.
“I don’t want my child around you. I’ll never come around, Father. It will have to be you that does so. Not the other way around.”
For a moment, she saw he almost broke and gave in to her. She’d always known she was his favorite. That they were so much alike. How many times had he told her he wished she’d been the firstborn and male because she had the intelligence and drive to lead their family?
The moment of weakness passed. She watched her father draw himself up, locking away the love she knew he held for her. His eyes bored into her.
“This is your last chance before you’re turned out, Diana. Have the child and then agree to give it up. I will find a good family who will care for it. I’ll even pay for it to be educated if it’s a boy.”
She raised her chin a notch, glaring at him defiantly, her silence her answer, and she saw resignation blanket him.
“Lie in the bed you’ve made then. You’ll come crawling back. I’m not a monster, Diana. I will take you back—on my terms.”
The love she’d felt all her life for this man began to wither.
“Pack immediately,” her father ordered. “You’ve brought disgrace to the de Wolfe name. You’re no longer welcomed at Esterley.”
Resigned to her fate, Diana looked to her mother, who’d risen and held on to the bedpost for support. “Take care, Mama. I love you.”
Her mother only looked at her, her lips moving wordlessly. Then she found a small bit of courage.
Looking at her husband, the countess said, “Both of you have such fiery tempers, Rafe. And obstinate natures. You’ve butted heads in the past but you love her, Husband. I know you do. Don’t do this. Admit you’re wrong for once. That this idea is a horrible mistake. You can still make this right.”
Diana knew her mother asked the impossible. De Wolfes never admitted a mistake. Neither she nor her father would budge.
The Earl of Reston’s answer was to stride from the room without a backward glance. Her mother looked at Diana helplessly and then followed him, abandoning her daughter.
This was the worst day of her life.
Diana opened her wardrobe and began to pack, knowing she would never set foot in the castle again.
Not as long as Rafe de Wolfe was alive.
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