He went on, ignoring her interruption. 'It seems I have left my sisters in the protection of a woman who is easily gulled by just the sort of man I wish them to avoid. If you are working with the Gypsy? Even if it is without intention to harm?' He shook his head. 'Leave this house immediately, Miss Price. Your services are no longer required.'
'But I can explain.' She had so much to tell him. But it was even more important that she explain it all to Nell, who would be much less judgemental if she heard the details.
'I imagine you can.' The look in his eyes was sad, for it signalled the death of their friendship. 'But it will not move me from my decision.' He was staring at her now, as though reading a book himself. And she was convinced that the thing she most wanted to hide from him was written plain on her face. Then, he said, 'Your heart is involved, is it not?'
'Yes,' she whispered, letting him assume what he would. For now, it was better that he suspect the Gypsy than the man who was now his brother-in-law.
'Then you have made your choice in this matter. I have known you long enough to realize that you would not give your affections lightly. But through no fault of our own, Miss Price, my family is at war. You have chosen a side. And it is not ours. Please. Go to your rooms and pack your things. I will explain to my sisters. You are dismissed.'
Dismissed. She walked slowly towards her room. After all these years, that was all. She had done a better job of safeguarding the girls' honour than she had her own. She had thrown that away on a man who was unworthy. She was a thief and a liar. And worse.
What could she possibly say to Marc that would make things any better? It was bad enough that he suspected her of the theft. But if he believed she was unchaste? What kind of reference could she expect then? Why had she not realized that Nathan Wardale had been talking about the Gypsy, when he said an enemy would reveal his past? He was as trapped by the man as the Carlows had been.
She reached into her wardrobe, and removed a portmanteau. Then she set it upon the bed and began stacking her small clothes in it.
There was a shadow from the doorway, with the sound of Marc's shouted, 'No, Verity,' ringing in the background.
'How could you, Diana?' Verity gave a shuddering sigh and then burst into tears. 'I thoughtyou would never... And with father so ill...'
Honoria appeared at her side, reaching out to take her sister in her arms. 'We treated you as a member of the family. You were like a sister to us. And this is how you have repaid the family. Come, Verity.' She said the words loud enough for Marc to hear, and then turned back to her, and with an expression that conveyed the urgent need for secrecy, she held out a letter.
Diana snatched it from her hand, and gave a small grateful nod and a wave of farewell.
The girls nodded back, as though they understood as best as anyone could, that things were not as they appeared. Then Honoria pulled her sister from the room in a cloud of muttered remonstrations.
Diana returned to her packing. Even if the last scene had been a sham, Verity was right. Lord Narborough was too ill to face this latest problem, and it pained her to be the cause of it. Perhaps he was at fault for Hebden's death. Or perhaps only for a false accusation against Nathan's father. Whatever had happened, he was to blame for the fate of the Wardale family. Because of him, Nell had suffered, as had Nathan. And in his suffering, Nathan had struck out at her family, and she had struck back. And now, the misery was woven through their lives like a thread through a tapestry.
Marc had been right when he'd accused her of choosing a side. Without meaning to, she had given her heart and her loyalty to Nathan Wardale. However much she loved the Carlow family, she did not wish to stay with them until the truth was known.
She walked slowly to the wardrobe and looked down at the small pile of possessions that had accumulated during the course of the years she'd lived there. This was the sum total of her life, after all this time. It had felt very significant, and very permanent, just a day ago. And now it seemed as if she had no roots at all.
She began stuffing gowns into a carpet bag, thinking little of what the casual arrangement might do to the fabrics. She picked up the beautiful dress she had worn on the previous night and shuddered. It had been very foolish of her to squander a portion of the windfall on something she had no reason to wear. But at the time, she had been happy and in love, and giving no thought at all to what would happen after. And then, her hand fell upon the little book, at the bottom of the wardrobe.
All that he had given her could be tied neatly in a package. It was but a small part of her small life. But it was not quite all he had given, for there was still the letter that Honoria had just handed to her. She was sure it came from Nathan.
She reached out to where she had set it, on the bed next to the portmanteau. It felt thick enough to be an apology, but not so thick as to be the pile of bank notes that she would probably need, now that she had no position.