Page 22 of Lady Diana's Lost Lord

Hannah dashed one arm across her eyes, and her chin trembled. “Maybe,” she said. “But I don’t like doing sums.”

“Do you want to know a secret?” Diana asked, nudging Hannah’s shoulder with her own. “I didn’t, either. I still don’t much care for them. But Icando them, and there’s a value in knowledge for the sake of it. It’s hard to see when you’re still so young, but there will come a time when you will understand. You must trust me on that.”

“I suppose.” Hannah turned her cheek to peer up at Diana speculatively.

“You’re quite a lucky little girl,” Diana said. “Really, I find myself…a bit jealous of you.”

“Jealous?” Hannah asked, blinking her wide blue eyes.

“Oh, yes. Your papa loves you so very much,” she said. “And mine—mine didn’t love me at all. There was a time in my life that I would have given anything for just a fraction of the love that you’ve got.”

“Why didn’t he love you?” Hannah asked, scooting closer. “Were you very bad?”

“No, I don’t think so. I was quite an obedient child. Perhaps he just wasn’t the sort of person whocouldlove.” Diana’s shoulders lifted and fell in a shrug. “But do you know, Hannah, there isn’t a single thing you could do that would make your papa not love you. You justhaveit. It is yours for the rest of your life. That’s how it should be, I think. For every child.”

“But not you.”

“No, not me.” Diana turned her face to the starry sky and brushed away an inconvenient tear. “So you see…you really are very lucky.”

A tiny body pressed against her side, and a wet head fell upon her shoulder. “Your papa should have loved you, too,” Hannah said. Diana’s heart gave a painful little beat in her chest. She draped one arm around Hannah’s small shoulders; a simple, tentative embrace.

“Thank you, darling,” she said brusquely. And then, clearing her throat, she added, “Now. It’s time for dinner.”

They both climbed to their feet, and the wick of the wind sent a chill racing down Diana’s spine. Her sodden skirts clung to her legs. Thank God the walk back was not far. She took a step forward—

Hannah thrust one hand into the space between them, wiggling her fingers. “You’re supposed to hold my hand,” she said.

“Oh,” Diana said. “Of course.”

And this time, the small hand held within hers squeezed her fingers with something that felt dangerously close to affection.

Chapter Nine

She’s just a woman,” Ben muttered to himself as he pounded the remains of yesterday’s boiled potatoes to a thick mash. “Only a bloody woman.” There were a dozen like her in the world. A hundred—a thousand, even. He’d met scores of women. Why should thisonebe of any particular import?

The chopped onions and mushrooms were waiting to be mixed with the minced lamb, which had been heating on the stove, and he reached for the pan—

“Ouch. Goddamnit all!” Of course the pan washot. What the devil was wrongwith him? He sucked his burned index finger into his mouth and hissed out a pained breath. It was just that it had been so damned long since he’d last had even the passing awareness of a womanasa woman.

He hadn’t expected to have become instantly enamored with the pronounced swell of Diana’s breasts beneath the wet, clinging fabric of her dress. Probably she hadn’t even noticed, given she’d made no effort whatsoever to hide them. Why hadhenoticed? Furthermore, why had he not stoppednoticing the moment he’d realized he had?

Irritated beyond reason, he dumped the onions and mushrooms atop the lamb mince and violently stirred it all together. Pepper, salt—bittoomuch salt, actually, but the potatoes would fix that right up.

It was just that he hadn’t expected to likeher. Or, rather, he hadn’t expected that she would likehim.Them. He and Hannah both. What a damned mess this whole situation was becoming.

A giant spoonful of potato mash plopped straight atop the mince mixture. Ben whacked at it with a wooden spoon, nudging it toward the edges of the pan. Too late, he realized he’d forgotten the handful of chopped herbs he’d set aside, which he’d plucked from the raggedy kitchen garden. Ah, well—he grabbed a handful and cast them across the surface of the mash.

He’d been relieved—delighted, really—that she’d wanted to break off their engagement. The perfect solution for both of them, in fact.I don’t give adamn about the dowry, she’d said, and that was good, for he’d never had it in his hands to begin with. He couldn’t have repaid her if she’d launched a suit against his family for breach of promise, and neither could his father, but sinceshe’ddemanded the dissolution of their engagement, neither would have to.

Heavy lid atop the pan, into the oven, and—there. Twenty minutes or so to crisp up, and there was the makings of a decent dinner. For all that he’d done it all distracted to hell and back again.

She liked Hannah. Probably she hadn’t meant to. Probably it hadn’t even been easy, since Hannah had immediately set about making a wretched nuisance of herself. But shedid. And she was kind, and generous, and patient—he’dswornshe could have happily strangled his daughter when she discovered how she’d been tricked into plunging straight into the pond. He could also have sworn she’d just as quickly forgiven Hannah her trespass.

Perhaps shedidunderstand his daughter. And Hannah had needed that understanding, he thought. Oh, of course she hadhim—would always have him—but they had lived such an isolated life. Scurrying from one tiny town to another, taking less and less with them each time. Hannah had been such an amiable child in her earlier years. She’d made friends with other children, laughed, played.

But it always ended when they left, and with each successive move, she’d grown less and less inclined to extend herself to the making of new friends. Because there was simply no point, when they would always have to leave.Hehad been the one constant in her life. Would she be devastated anew when Diana left?

A high-pitched giggle from outside startled him out of his thoughts.