The words echoed endlessly in her mind as Diana sat with Verity and Honoria in the white salon, mechanically jabbing the needle in and out of her embroidery. Had not her father warned her against just such a day as this? Had not she spent the whole of her adult life on guard, always suspecting that someday there would be a knock on the door and a man would come who would know far too much about her past?
Of course, Nathan Dale had not come as a seducer. He had come to speak to Marc and seemed surprised to meet her there. But his initial curiosity should have been a warning. Who would have reason to be interested in a paid companion? It was her own vanity that had led her to believe he fancied her. Nothing more than that.
Of course, her father's description had been totally different from the man who had come to her. He had described Wardale as little better than a boy. Pale of skin, thin of body, and with cold dead eyes. And having met Nell, she'd assumed a greater family resemblance between them than existed.
If Nathan Wardale's life had been as hard as the one that Nathan Dale had described to her, then the person her father had seen was but a shadow of the man to come. Whether he'd enjoyed it or not, life at sea had put muscle on him, changed his colouring and his gait. And hardship had made him serious, and sensitive to the feelings of others.
But those thoughts sounded almost like sympathy in her mind, so she pushed them away. His appearance did not matter, nor his reason for coming. He was still the person who was responsible for her current condition, and she had hated him for years.
Her inner turmoil must be reflected in her face. Verity had put down her work and was looking at her with concern. 'Are you sure you are all right, Diana?'
'I am fine.' Her voice sounded brittle in her own ears, and her smile must look as false as it felt. For now Honoria was staring at her with the same worried expression. 'Well you certainly do not look it. Perhaps this evening, it would be better if we attended the party without you.'
The party. She had forgotten, in her rash promise to Nathan Wardale, that she was already engaged to attend the Carlow girls at a musicale. And now, she must lie to free herself. 'I think you are right. It is probably just the beginnings of a megrim. I should make an early night of it. But that would leave you without a chaperone. And I would never...' She let the thought trail away, waiting for one of the girls to take the bait.
'We will be safe in the company of Lord Keddinton, I am sure,' said Honoria. 'And I promise there will be no ill reports of me tonight, for it would hardly be fair to worry you.'
Verity nodded. 'We will give you no trouble, and will be very quiet when we return, so as not to disturb your sleep.'
Or notice her absence, if she had not yet returned herself. 'Thank you,' Diana said with a smile, ignoring the pang of guilt she felt at how easy it was becoming to deceive her friends.
It was Nathan Wardale's doing. All of it. Until he had appeared in her life, she had worked so hard to resist temptation. But a few short weeks later, she was lying, stealing, and preparing to sneak away from the house, coldly contemplating the loss of her virtue to a man she detested. How many other sins would she commit before he was through with her? And did uncontrollable anger count against the total of them?
For she felt angry now. She had never been so angry in her life. Not even when father had lost their house, and sat her down with the tearful explanation of why they must go so quickly. And why she must, at all costs, avoid contact with a man named Wardale.
When that had happened, she'd felt shock. And fear. And for a time, she had been upset with her father. But it had been tempered with love and forgiveness. For what good did it do her to be angry with Father, when his behaviour never changed? She had learned to put anger aside as impractical.
But now? There was no sympathy in her heart for either of the men that had brought her to this. Had she meant so little to Father that he could not put down the cards? And that he would lose her to Nathan Wardale, of all the people in the world. He had become a man she could have loved and respected, had the past been different. Had it not been enough for him to know that he owned her body? Had it been necessary to win her heart as well?
Her response to him was infuriating. She had melted under his kisses and longed for the touch of his hand. Even this morning, when she was furious with him, he had managed to turn the heat in her brain to passion. It was like a red light, burning in her mind, obscuring rationality and smothering the calm and reasoned response she would have encouraged for anyone else. She wanted to hurt him. She wanted him to suffer as she was suffering.
And it was in her power to do so. The red light faded, and in its wake there was a horrible calm, as she saw the weapon of torture, plainly in her grasp.