No. It would not wait so long. Although he feared the response, Diana Price must be the very first thing on his list. He would write to her immediately, and explain in detail who he was and what was about to happen. He would bare his soul to her before proceeding, so that nothing would come as a surprise. She would be angry, of course. And possibly frightened of him.
But Diana was not without a heart. He had looked into her eyes and seen nothing but love. She had said the past was not important. Now, he would see if she could overlook it, once the worst was known. He would tell her, let her judge. He would promise to wait each Tuesday morning, in Hyde Park, until she returned. Then he would wait. His entire life, if necessary. And one day, he was sure that she would come to him.
There was a commotion in the hall outside the study, growing closer as the people involved neared the door. The butler, Benton, had raised his normally placid voice in a greeting--and then in argument. And a woman was protesting.
And as the door opened, he realized his plans were useless, for he had made them a day too late to save his future.
'You.' She was framed in the doorway, bonnet askew and coat disarranged, as though she had hurried to confront him with little care to ladylike decorum. The composure that he so often saw in her features was collapsing into a mix of anger, tears, fright and disgust. 'You are the gambler my father warned me about?'
'Diana.' His voice choked on the word. 'I can explain.' But of course, he could not. There was no explanation for what he had done. No defence.
'I think it is quite obvious what happened. You discovered my position in the Carlow household. You wanted to discredit Lord Narborough, just as you said. So you used my growing affection for you to manipulate me.'
'I did not. I had no idea I would meet you when I came to that house. And I could not anticipate how things would end.'
She sneered. 'I find that hard to believe, sir. You played me like a harp. You enquired after my past and my future. Then you used my own needs and desires against me.'
'I asked you about yourself, because I wanted to know. I did not intend...'
It was plain on her face that she did not believe him. 'Why did you need to be so cruel? Did it amuse you to arouse feelings in me? Why did you not simply use my father's note to gain my cooperation? You must have known I'd have done anything to retrieve it.'
'I hoped you had forgotten by now.'
'Forgotten?' She put her hand to her mouth as though she was about to be ill. 'My entire life has been routed around that night. What I am. Where I am. Who I am. You thought I would forget that a gambler holds my honour like it was cheap coin?'
'Because your father bartered it away.' He had not meant to say the words, for he was sure that the bluntness of them would hurt her. But why must he be the one to pay when fools came to play with him?
There were tears welling up in her eyes now, and he felt the pain of them in his own heart. 'He could not stop himself from playing. And you took advantage of his weakness, just as you have taken advantage of me. You tricked me into turning on a family that has shown me nothing but kindness for years.'
'I did not trick you into taking that journal. You volunteered. And when you read the thing, you agreed with me.'
'Only because you planted the seeds of doubt in my mind. You promised that we would be together, once it was settled. And I?' She laughed. 'I foolishly convinced myself that you meant something honest with those words. I had no idea that if you wished for togetherness--' she shuddered '--you had but to produce my father's note and demand to receive it.'
'But you understood me correctly. I intended to offer. What you suspect? It was not what I meant at all. Here.' He fumbled in his pocket. 'If it means so much to you, then take the damn letter from me, now.'
'You carry it on your person? You have had it with you, all along?'
And how could he explain that to her, when he could not explain, even to himself, why he had not thrown the thing in the fire on the first night. 'Yes.' He held it out to her again. 'Take it.'
She reached out a hand for the paper, and her fingers trembled as though she thought the contact would burn her. And then she stopped, her hand still inches away. 'You are toying with me, aren't you? What do you want in return?'
'Toying? Certainly not. Take the thing back.'
'Because I can give you money. Not much...'
And again, her words pushed him to the brink of anger. 'Think what you will of me, Diana, for I deserve your contempt. But do not tell me that your virtue can be measured in money. Even if it were, it would be worth more than thirty-four pounds.'
She fell silent, as the meaning of his words sunk in. And as the silence wore on, he wished that he could call them back and start again. Perhaps then he could make something he'd intended as a noble act seem less common and thoughtless.
Then she said, in a voice barely above a whisper, 'That was you, as well. There has been no one but Nathan Wardale interested in me. All along.' And she said it like it was the worst thing in the world.