Diona and a Dalmatian Page 10

“You are very lovely,” he said in a deep voice, “and very young, and you must have somebody to take care of you.”

  The way he spoke gave her a strange feeling in her breast, which she had never known before.

  Then, because he was still looking into her eyes, it seemed to her as if his grew larger and larger until they filled the whole world and there was nothing but him.

  “We will be very happy together,” he said softly.

  Then, hearing the door of the library open, Diona jumped to her feet, and as the Marquis also rose, Dawson came into the room.

  “Sir Hereward Grantley and Mr. Simon Grantley, my Lord!” he announced.

  Diona made a muffled cry, and Sirius, who had been lying on the floor beside the Marquis’s chair, growled in his throat.

  Then, walking lamely because of his gout and leaning on an ivory-handled cane, Sir Hereward came into the room.

  He advanced towards them and Diona felt as if she were turned to stone.

  There was silence until Sir Hereward was within a few feet of the Marquis. Ignoring him, he merely stared at Diona before he said roughly,

  “So here you are! A nice dance you have given me, disappearing in that disgraceful manner!”

  It was then that Diona realised she had not drawn a breath from the moment her uncle had been announced, and now she was trembling.

  Sirius growled again, and as if the sound brought her back to reality she said,

  “I ran away, Uncle Hereward, to – save Sirius. You said you were – going to have him shot, and I could not – lose him – I could not!”

  “You should have talked to me about it instead of behaving like an idiot,” Sir Hereward said.

  Then, as if he remembered that was not why he had come to find her, he added,

  “You can come home now, and if Sirius behaves himself in the future I will spare him.”

  His change of tone was so surprising that Diona gave an audible gasp.

  Then, as if he could not bear to keep silent any longer, Simon cried,

  “What Papa is saying is that now that you are an heiress, you can pay for Sirius yourself and your father’s bills!”

  “Be quiet, Simon!” Sir Hereward shouted.

  He turned his head to reprove his son, and in doing so he seemed to become aware of the Marquis for the first time, for he held out his hand to say,

  “Forgive me, my Lord, for intruding upon you unexpectedly, but I only learnt late last night that my extremely undisciplined niece had come here.”

  The Marquis ignored Sir Hereward’s outstretched hand and merely remarked,

  “I should be extremely interested to be told what all this is about.”

  “I will tell you,” Simon said in his impulsive manner. “My Cousin Diona has come into a fortune of eighty thousand pounds from her Godmother. Think of it eighty thousand pounds for a young girl like that!”

  I do not know what you are – talking about,” Diona cried.

  “There is no need for us to discuss our intimate affairs in front of strangers!” Sir Hereward said sharply. “There is a carriage outside, Diona, and you will come home with me now. Then I will explain what you need to know.”

  “I am sorry – Uncle Hereward,” Diona answered, “but I am not going to live with you any more. I have been very – unhappy, and although I pleaded with you – you ordered Sirius to be – shot, and I would never risk his being in that – position again.”

  “I have told you that you can keep the dog!” Sir Hereward said angrily.

  “You can keep him,” Simon chimed in, “because you are going to marry me! And with eighty thousand pounds you can have dozens of dogs if you want!”

  “I, I do not know what – you are – saying.”

  Now because she was so frightened the words seemed to be jerked from Diona’s lips.

  “Will you be silent, Simon!” Sir Hereward thundered. “Leave this to me.”

  Quite unabashed because he had been so spoilt that he was not in the least afraid of his father, Simon smiled at Diona in a way that made her flesh creep.

  It was the same foolish smile he had had on his face when he had tried to kiss her, and the expression in her eyes now was the same as when she had had to fight him to get free.

  Because Sir Hereward felt he had silenced his son, he looked again at the Marquis.

  “My apologies, my Lord,” he said, “for inflicting my domestic affairs upon you in this unseemly fashion. I will now take my niece away with me, and you will not be bothered with her any further.”

  Hardly aware of what she was doing, Diona moved a step nearer to the Marquis.

  “As I have already concerned myself in your niece’s affairs,” the Marquis said in his most authoritative tone, “I think I am entitled to an explanation, Sir Hereward, of what you plan for her in the future.”

  “I see no reason – ” Sir Hereward began.

  Then, as if the Marquis forced him to do so, he explained after a pause,

  “My niece is an orphan, and I am prepared for her to marry my son, who in due course will inherit my title and estates.”

  “And you think your niece will consent to this arrangement?” the Marquis asked.

  Quite obviously it was a challenge.

  Sir Hereward’s face grew redder than it was already, and the note of anger in his voice was unmistakable as he replied,

  “I am her guardian and, as your Lordship well knows, she must legally obey any arrangements I make for her.”

  As if the full impact of what he was saying penetrated into Diona’s mind, she knew that the only thing she could do was to run away and hide.

  She tensed her whole body to take the first step towards escaping to run from the room and go on running.

  Instinctively the Marquis knew what she was about to do, and he caught hold of her wrist.

  As if he had checked her in mid-flight, she turned her head to look at him reproachfully, and he was aware that she was shaking with fear.

  At the same time, Sirius, as if he knew what was happening, was now growling menacingly in his throat.

  The Marquis’s fingers tightened and Diona felt as if he drew her a little closer to him before he said,

  “I am afraid, Sir Hereward, your plans are not practical because Diona is engaged to me!”

  There was a stupefied silence.

  Then as Diona drew in her breath in bewilderment, Simon cried out,

  “You cannot have her! She is mine! Mine! Papa said she is to marry me, and she has to do so!”

  The Marquis ignored him.

  He was watching Sir Hereward, who was well aware of the import of what had been said, but could not think for the moment how to cope with it.

  Then as his son’s shrill, hysterical voice died away he said heavily,

  “She cannot be married without my consent!”

  “I am aware of that,” the Marquis replied quietly, “but I hardly think you would withhold it.”

  The two men’s eyes met, and while Sir Hereward glared at him, the Marquis’s look of contempt was unmistakable.

  Then, as if Sir Hereward knew he was beaten, he said,

  “In the circumstances, I can only hope Your Lordship is fully aware of what you are doing and will not be disappointed.”

  The Marquis did not reply, and after a moment Sir Hereward went on,

  “I imagine the next step is for our solicitors to discuss the marriage settlement.”

  Again the Marquis did not make any reply, nor did he invite the two men facing him to sit down.

  As if he was suddenly acutely conscious that he was unwelcome, Sir Hereward said,

  “I shall wait to hear from your Lordship!”

  Without even looking at Diona he started to walk slowly and without much dignity towards the door.

  “But, Papa,” Simon expostulated, “you promised me! You said I could marry Diona! How can she marry anybody else? It is not fair! And he does not want her money. He has lots of his own!”

&n
bsp; Sir Hereward did not answer his son, and as he reached the door he passed through it.

  Then as he left it open behind him they could hear Simon’s plaintive voice gradually fading into the distance down the corridor outside.

  Only when he could no longer be heard did the Marquis release Diona’s wrist, and as if she could no longer stand she sank down onto the floor beside Sirius and put her arms round him.

  As if the dog understood that they had passed through a crisis which had left her on the verge of tears, he rubbed his face against her cheek and let her hold him close to her.

  The Marquis walked towards the door.

  “We will leave for London immediately after luncheon.”

  It took Diona a moment to realise what he had said.

  Then as she murmured, “London?” she found the Library was empty except for her and Sirius.

  *

  It was impossible to talk at the pace at which the Marquis was driving, and anyway Diona was thankful that she did not have to ask questions.

  She had come down for luncheon feeling more or less composed, having, by a great effort of will, fought against collapsing in tears in her bedroom.

  She found when she entered the library that Roderic was with the Marquis, but she had no idea whether or not he had been told of the uncomfortable drama which had just taken place.

  She knew only that she had no wish to speak of it, and as if the Marquis understood what she was feeling, they talked all through luncheon about the steeplechase.

  The Marquis gave Roderic a list of the rules of the race and discussed with him who should be invited to take part.

  Diona was almost certain by the time the meal was over that Roderic had no idea that in his absence anybody had called to the house.

  Also, she thought that strangely enough he did not seem to be curious as to why they should be leaving for London.

  She had an uncomfortable feeling that he thought it was on his account and that the Marquis was taking her there so that she would be ready and rested before the contest with Sir Mortimer, which meant so much to him.

  ‘I shall have to explain sooner or later that I am no longer in hiding,’ she thought, ‘and as my father’s daughter I could not possibly be involved in anything like that.’

  Yet, she felt she could leave everything to the Marquis.

  He had saved her once.

  He could save her again.

  At the same time, while she was very uncertain what he was thinking or feeling, at least she felt sure he had no wish to marry her.

  The suggestion he had made to her just before Sir Hereward arrived was still puzzling her, and she was trying to understand what he had implied.

  She could also, when she thought of it, still feel the strange sensations that he had aroused in her not only by the tone of his voice but when he had put his arms round her.

  She thought, although it seemed incredible, that if her uncle had not arrived at that moment, the Marquis might have kissed her.

  He had certainly drawn her closer to him, and as he had done so she had felt a sensation almost like a flash of lightning piercing through her, and it had been impossible to breathe, impossible to think.

  She wondered what she would have felt if he had kissed her.

  Then as they drove on and she stole a glance at him as he concentrated on his horses, he was looking so overwhelmingly attractive that she knew she wanted the touch of his lips.

  She wanted him to kiss her and she was sure it would be very wonderful.

  Simon’s clumsy advances had revolted her. When she had run away from him she had told herself she hated the whole idea of being touched and would never allow any man to kiss her.

  But now, if she was honest, she knew that she wanted the Marquis’s kisses, and she wondered desperately if, now that he knew who she was, he would try to kiss her again.

  She was aware, and here her instinct was working, that when he had told her uncle that she was ‘engaged’ to him, it had merely been a way of saving her from being married to Simon.

  It was not, she was sure, his intention to marry her.

  Then as they neared London, suddenly like a blinding light it came to her that she had been very stupid. What the Marquis had suggested was that he should look after her and keep her safe and hide her as she had wanted to hide, but not as his wife.

  Because Diona was so innocent, she had no idea how a man made love to a woman.

  She had seen the happiness of her father and mother and knew that if she ever married, that was what she wanted to find with her husband.

  However, she was aware that there were other kinds of love, and although everything Simon did and said disgusted her, she knew she attracted him as a woman, which was why he wanted to kiss and touch her.

  The Marquis had been very different, but still what he had offered her was not the love she was seeking – the love that was beautiful, sacred, and part of the sunshine.

  ‘He has saved me, but I must not impose upon him,’ Diona told herself.

  She was not quite certain what she should do, but she was afraid that if she were not with the Marquis, and under his protection, her uncle would once again try to marry her off to Simon.

  She could not imagine anything more horrifying or more degrading.

  The mere idea of being tied to her cousin and in a position where he could touch her made her feel as if she had been thrown into a pool of reptiles.

  She must have shuddered, for the Marquis turned his head to ask,

  “You are all right? You are not cold?”

  “No – of course not,” Diona replied.

  They changed horses a little later, but the Marquis stayed only as long as it took to take one team from between the shafts and replace it with another. Then they were on their way again.

  Roderic was travelling with Sam in another Phaeton, and Diona guessed without asking that the Marquis was determined to break his own record, if possible, and certainly to reach London well ahead of them.

  When they finally arrived at Irchester House, Diona looked at him apprehensively, wondering what was waiting for her there.

  She walked beside him into the large hall and saw an elderly man come forward to greet him.

  She knew from the conversation she had listened to between him and Roderic that this was Mr. Swaythling, his secretary, who ran all his houses.

  “You received my message, Swaythling?” the Marquis enquired.

  “Yes, my Lord. The groom arrived about an hour and a half ago.”

  “You have carried out my instructions?”

  “Everything has been arranged, my Lord.”

  “Good!” the Marquis exclaimed.

  He turned to Diona and said,

  “This is my secretary, Mr. Swaythling, who, with his usual expertise, has managed to provide you with a chaperone at such short notice.”

  Diona held out her hand and Mr. Swaythling shook it.

  “I hope, Miss Grantley, it will be to your satisfaction,” he said, “and I am sure you would like to wash and change after what I am sure was a most precipitate journey. You will find our housekeeper, Mrs. Norton, waiting for you at the top of the stairs.”

  “Thank you,” Diona said.

  The Marquis did not speak, but feeling somehow that she was dismissed, she walked up the stairs feeling alone and shy.

  She knew without being told that her status had changed, because Mr. Swaythling had addressed her by her own name.

  Mrs. Norton dropped her a curtsey, saying,

  “You must feel tired, miss, coming from the country at the speed his Lordship always drives! I’d be frightened to death if I was in one of those smart new Phaetons that go so fast.”

  “I found it most exhilarating,” Diona replied. “At the same time, I feel I am very untidy.”

  She had put on her best gown and bonnet to travel with the Marquis, and she was therefore not ashamed of her appearance as she was led into a large and very attractive room wit
h windows overlooking a garden.

  “ I understand, Miss,” the Housekeeper was saying, “that your luggage has been somehow mislaid, but the dressmakers have been ordered to be here in about an hour’s time.”

  “Dressmakers?” Diona exclaimed.

  She was about to say that she could not afford to spend any money on clothes or allow the Marquis to buy them for her, when she remembered that she was now rich.

  She had been so concerned with his feelings for her and the way he had saved her that she had almost forgotten that the reason why her uncle had come in search of her was that she had inherited such an enormous sum of money from her Godmother.

  It seemed extraordinary, after having been abused and sneered at for being penniless ever since her arrival at the Hall and having repeatedly heard her father criticised because he had died in debt, that she should now be wealthy.

  She could remember her Godmother well.

  Lady Campbell had been a close friend of her mother’s, even though she was very much older.

  In fact, thinking about her now, Diona was certain that she must have been over seventy.

  She supposed she might have got in touch with her after her father died, instead of obeying orders and going tamely to live with her uncle.

  But she had not actually seen Lady Campbell since two or three years before her mother’s death.

  She had always been sent a Christmas card, but she had never thought to write her Godmother, who lived in Northumberland, which had seemed to be at the far end of the world.

  ‘All that time, because Mama loved her and she loved Mama,’ Diona thought, ‘she was thinking of me and had made me her heir.’

  It was easy now to look back and wish that she had behaved in a very different way.

  But she had felt so bereft and helpless after losing her parents that there had seemed to be nothing she could do but obey her uncle and bow to his unceasing abuse of her.

  “I have been weak and spineless,” Diona told herself, “and that is something Papa would never have been.”

  She longed, as so many people had done before her, to put back the clock.

  If only this money, she thought, had come while her father was alive, they could have enjoyed it together. She could have bought him horses that would have saved him from having to break in the wild ones from Ireland, which had been instrumental in his death.