'It is the letter you received this morning, is it not? The one you would not show us.' Honoria examined it closely. 'And it was from Mr Dale, just as we suspected.'
Diana gave Honoria the disappointed look that normally broke through the girl's defences when she was concealing something. 'When I arrived at the park, Mr Dale knew nothing of the note. And I suspect you might have had a hand in this, since you are so eager to see the two of us matched.'
'He had nothing to do with it?' Honoria gave a rather unladylike snort. 'What utter rubbish. Perhaps he is too shy to admit it.'
'He was most insistent about it.' She folded her arms across her chest and waited for the confession.
But Honoria's face showed nothing but a thoughtful frown. 'You have no way of proving that he is not lying, do you? You have never seen his writing.'
'Perhaps I have. When Mr Dale was first here, he left a note for your brother.' It was vexing to remember that now, when it was too late. She could have compared the handwriting before leaving. But she had blocked the note from her mind, not wanting to see what was right under her nose.
'Let us see, then,' Verity said.
'You may not see the contents of the note. It is not addressed to you.'
'And yet you have read it,' Honoria challenged.
The truth stung. For when had she become so nosey as to do such a low thing? 'Only to know if I should bother Marc with it, now that he and Nell are finally alone.'
'Or perhaps you wanted to know the contents,' Honoria waved a hand. 'But never mind. We will not look, if it makes you feel better. But get the thing and look for yourself. Then tell us if both are written by the same person.'
She went to her room to get the letter, realizing as she did so, that it should never have been there. Why had she thought it acceptable to put the thing anywhere other than on the desk in Marc's study? But she had taken the paper out of Nathan's hand and walked directly to her bedroom to read it, as though it were a personal missive to herself and not business for Lord Stanegate. She was overstepping herself in so many ways lately that it would take all her self-discipline to return to the straight-and-narrow path.
After examination of the purloined note, she had to admit that the two hands were nothing alike, and she felt even more foolish for jumping to conclusions. She placed the thing in Marc's study where it belonged and returned to the girls.
They were believing none of it, even with the evidence of the note. 'Mr Dale was there when you arrived,' said Verity. 'So the person who sent the letter knew his schedule. And since we have no idea how he keeps himself--'
'When he is not dangling after you,' added Honoria.
'Then it should be proof of our innocence. And this note appears to have been written by a man.'
'Although it would have been a marvellous trick, had we have thought of it.' Honoria grinned. 'It is a great relief to me that you are affected by the same romantic notions as the rest of the world, Diana. While you are an excellent example to us, sometimes I wonder whether I am as weak as my mother claims or if you are the one who is unusual. But never mind that. Let us examine this letter and see if we can guess the sender.' She snatched the letter away from Verity and held it up to the light, but there was nothing extraordinary about the paper. Then she examined the writing. 'Did you save the paper that the bank notes came in?'
It was an interesting thought, and Diana tried not to rush as, this time, the girls followed her to her room. She went to her wardrobe and withdrew the pile of money. But she had discarded the note around it as worthless, for it had had only her own address upon it.
'That must be it,' Verity said. 'If you had kept the thing and could compare it to this, you would see that the hands are the same. It appears that you have a secret benefactor, Diana. If it is not Mr Dale, then it must be someone else who cares enough to see you both provided for and well settled in a home of your own. You are most fortunate indeed.'
And while it was a wonderful thought, that after all this time, there was someone who cared for her well-being, Diana had no idea who that person might be.
Chapter Ten
Diana waited in trepidation on the pathway, the following Tuesday. Nathan Dale had sent her a note, reminding her of the meeting, just as he had promised he would. But it had contained none of the romantic foolishness she had been hoping for. Just a few words requesting an interview at ten o'clock. The brevity of it made the tone seem almost curt. Perhaps the walks were not as important to him as they were to her. Suppose he forgot? Or changed his mind and remained at home? If that was the case, she could console herself that there were no witnesses to her disappointment. She recognized no one in the park this early.