And that last statement, which could mean anything, but appeared damning when taken with all the rest. What was she to do with the information? It appeared that Nathan might be right. And it left her with a difficult choice to make. She'd lived in ignorance of any problems in this family and known Lord Narborough to be nothing more than a fond old man, caring deeply for his wife and children. But his health had worsened after the appearance of Nell and then the Gypsy. Was this because he feared the truth being revealed?
Had she found this information even a week ago, she'd have been tempted to turn her back on it. Better to let the matter rest and put the book back upon the shelf, instead of stirring up old troubles that could hurt more people than they helped. But now?
She took the book and set it in the bottom of her valise, and then covered it with a pile of folded stockings. She would pray that no one noticed its absence during the visit, and then she would take it back to London to show Nathan Dale. If he felt a pressing need to know the identity of the Hebden murderer, she would help him. It did not matter whether it was to avenge a lost love or free himself from the harassment of the same man that haunted her own past. She would do it, because in only a few weeks, she had grown to love and trust him beyond any loyalty she might feel to her old friends.
Because her objective opinion on past events, based on the contents of the little book, was that the truth could be every bit as bad as he assumed.
Chapter Twelve
During the week that Diana was away, Nathan could think of little else but her return. Although it was unlikely that he'd have seen her until the next Tuesday, even had she remained in London, he had not realized the comfort he felt in knowing that a chance meeting was possible. Now that she was gone, each mile between them was a hardship.
He went to the tables each night, just as he always had. But he played listlessly, paying little attention to the desires of men and women across the baize. Where once he would have watched without emotion as his opponents bankrupted themselves, now when games got out of hand he could no longer contain his disgust, with them or himself.
As yet another broken fool began rooting in his pockets for some treasured heirloom to cast away, Nate stood up from the table, hours earlier than normal, proclaiming loud enough for all to hear that he would rather play cards with the kitchen cat than to watch another soul publicly shame themselves at his expense.
As he pushed his way through the crowd, he heard the ladies muttering amongst themselves that, while they still found Mr Dale was quite attractive, of late he had not been nearly as diverting as they had hoped.
He smiled to himself at this. Her absence had convinced him that there was only one woman in London that he wished to entertain. But was it better to initiate contact, or to wait until she was returned and was ready to see him? Surely scrawling a line or two to welcome her back to London would not be seen as forward. But had she even returned from Stanegate? He did not know. When they had parted, she had been able to give him no firm date of return. As always, her schedule was at the mercy of the Carlow family.
He quietly damned them all for their hold over her life, and damned himself for placing her in the situation. A week without seeing her had seemed like an eternity. It had given him too much time to relive the previous meetings and imagine possibilities for the next. Assuming that there would be a next meeting. What if she had decided not to follow through on their plan, and realized that it would be better to remove herself from him? It was no less than he deserved. Perhaps she had found some other gentleman whose company she preferred. Or maybe the next meeting was assumed, and he would find her waiting in the park on Tuesday.
There were so many possibilities that he could not choose and was driving himself mad with trying. At last, he decided there could be no harm in going to the park for a walk on the normal Tuesday, and went so far as to forgo his Monday evening at the tables so that he might be rested and waiting for her in Hyde Park on the following morning.
He arrived on the usual footpath by the Serpentine promptly at ten, to find Diana Price pacing the ground ahead of him in obvious agitation. Not only had she come, but it thrilled him to think she had arrived early, as though she were afraid she would miss him. He frowned. Unless there were some other reason for her anxiety.
When she saw him, she looked up with a relieved smile, and he hurried to her side. He clasped her hand, to assure himself that she was safely returned and not just a vision of what he wished to see. 'I was not sure you would come. Perhaps you were still travelling, or had decided that my last request was too forward? But I decided to wait here each Tuesday until you returned.'
'I hoped you would.' She gave a relieved sigh. 'But if you did not come, then at least you would not see me waiting for you.'
He grinned. 'I thought the same.' So she had been eager to see him. All of his previous concerns for her safety, and worse, her constancy, evaporated. 'Come, let us walk.' He offered her his arm.