Paying the Virgin's Price

‘Mr Dale? I understand that you are an old friend of our family. I was most disappointed to be indisposed when you visited yesterday.’ She favoured Mr Dale with her most brilliant smile and then cast a significant glance in Diana’s direction.

Diana gave up, and said, with a resigned tone, ‘Mr Dale, may I present Lady Honoria and Lady Verity Carlow.’

He gave a somewhat stiff bow, and answered, ‘You are correct, ladies. We are already acquainted. Although you were both much too small to remember me, and I was but a boy when I last saw you.’

Verity said, ‘Miss Price and I were speculating on your appearance in Bond Street. I do not remember seeing you here before.’

Diana coloured and gave a small shake of her head to indicate that they had been doing nothing of the kind, for the last thing she wanted was to reveal the true nature of her speculations. She was sure that her head-shake looked nothing like the saucy toss Verity was giving her golden curls, to make them catch the sunlight.

Nathan Dale was wearing the same poleaxed expression that men often got when the Carlow sisters turned their considerable charms upon them. He muttered, ‘Tailor,’ as though he could barely remember what had brought him out to shop.

‘So you frequent the area?’Verity gave Diana a triumphant look. ‘I suppose we have seen you in the past. But the renewed acquaintance of our families puts a fresh face on the experience. Now that we know you again, we shall be running into each other all the time.’

Diana was sure that this was not the case. She was convinced that she would have been drawn to the man’s striking appearance, had she seen it before.

For his part, Mr Dale looked positively horrified at the notion that he would be seeing them again and again.

But Verity ignored this as well, and said, ‘Now that we have found you, may I ask you to be of assistance? We are overburdened by packages. If you could help us regain our carriage?’

No gentleman could refuse, although this one looked like he wished to. He glanced around for a moment, almost as if he was embarrassed to be seen with them. But then he bowed again and took the packages anyway, then turned to help them find their transport. Once that was achieved, it seemed Verity would not be satisfied with the aid of servants, but required Mr Dale to escort them all the way back to the house.

Diana could see him struggling to come up with a polite refusal, his eyes finding hers and holding them with a mute appeal for aid. But then, Honoria linked her arm through his, and all but dragged him into the carriage to sit beside her. ‘There,’she said, giving a sigh of satisfaction. ‘This is much better, is it not?’

Mr Dale gave a nod of polite agreement. Although since she was seated opposite him, Diana could see from his miserable expression that this was the last place on earth he wished to be. He remained in strained silence as the normally quiet Verity prattled on in a most annoying way about the price of ribbons and the challenge of finding a sufficiently fluffy coq feather in exactly the right shade of blue.

Diana had no idea what had gotten into the girl, although she suspected it had something to do with silver hair and green eyes. But she was well on the way to giving her a megrim. Mr Dale seemed of a similar mind, squirming in his seat as though he wished to fling open the door and dart from the coach, willing to risk a fall beneath the horse’s hooves, over slow death by millinery.

Honoria was no better, clinging to Mr Dale’s arm as though she sensed his desire and was trying to prevent the escape. If the girl truly wished to gain the man’s attentions, she would need to choose another approach entirely. And much to Diana’s dismay, she could find no desire to help either of them. If the man took a sudden and violent distaste to the Carlow sisters, it would forestall the risk that she might have to chaperone any of them, enduring painful evenings of lingering glances, staring intently into her needlework while ignoring their whispered endearments.

Was it only yesterday that she had been eagerly awaiting the appearance of Verity’s first real suitor? She loved the girl, and wished her well as she struggled in the shadow of her older sister. If Verity finally made a choice, then Diana should be relieved, not annoyed. Unless it was this particular man.

And while she was sure of Honoria’s ability to captivate any man, she could not warm to the idea that the object of her affection was the enigmatic Mr Dale. No matter that she thought he was exactly the sort of man she could put forward as a steadying influence on either of them. To be forced to sit in the corner and watch as Nathan Dale grew increasingly besotted over either of the Carlow daughters would be the most difficult thing in the world.

Perhaps Mr Dale thought the same, for he was squirming again. He stretched his long legs out before him, and they brushed against Diana’s skirts.

She gave a surprised jump as his calf touched hers.

He straightened suddenly, mumbling apologies.

Honoria nudged Verity with her toe from the opposite seat, and there were a few muffled giggles from the two girls until Diana gave a disapproving cough.

Mr Dale seemed to fold in upon himself, trying to take as little space as possible and cause no further incidents.

At last, the carriage arrived in front of the Carlow town house, and before it could come to a full stop, Nathan Dale had the door open and the step down. He offered a hand to Verity and then to Honoria. Once he had seen them both safely to the ground, he turned back for Diana. He wiped his palm upon his coat-tail and gave an embarrassed bob of his head, as though he did not wish to look into her eyes. But at the last moment, he looked up, his amazing green eyes catching hers and holding them. And then, his hand touched hers.

Her feet were on the ground, and he was turning away. But she had the strangest sensation that an important moment had passed, though she had no recollection of it. And it was a shame, for if the time had been spent with her hand in his, she thought that she would very much have liked to have a clear memory of it.

She came back to herself offering a silent prayer of relief that the trip was over, only to hear Verity insisting that Mr Dale simply must stay for tea, and her sister heartily agreeing. Honoria had reached out to catch the man by the arm again, before he could escape into the street. And now, she was reminding him that it was teatime, after all.

After dragging him so far out of his way, it was only logical that the girls offer him refreshment. Diana should commend them for their hospitality. But the events so far had left Diana’s nerves frayed to the point where she was sure her cup would be rattling on the saucer loud enough to block out the sound of conversation.

And Mr Dale, damn him, could not seem to find voice enough to refuse the girls. If he did not wish to be with them, then why could he not say so—and end her torment? Instead, he allowed himself to be led as meek as a lamb into the sitting room for tea and cakes.

They were barely seated, before Verity sprang to her feet. ‘I wonder what is taking so long? Cook is normally much more prompt than this. Perhaps someone should go and check.’

Diana was weighing in her mind the possibilities. It would not do to leave the girls alone in the room with a stranger, while she went to talk to the help. If that was what Verity was attempting to orchestrate, she underestimated her chaperone. She would tell the girl to ring for Wellow, the butler, and lecture them both later about the need to sit patiently when one had guests.

But before she could take action, Honoria announced, ‘I will just go and see after things.’And she was up, out of her chair and out the door. She turned back. ‘And Verity, you must come with me.’

Her sister rose. ‘Can you not find your own way to the kitchen?’

‘Of course. But I suspect I shall eat all the sandwiches before they are even brought here, for I am famished. If you do not come to watch over me, I swear, I will not leave a thing for Mr Dale.’

‘Really, I…do not require anything,’ he finished to the closed door.

And Diana found herself alone again, with Nathan Dale.

There was a moment of very awkward silence. And then, he spoke. ‘Miss Verity did not talk nearly so much when last I saw her. Of course, she was an infant at the time.’

‘She did not talk so much when last I saw her either, and it has been barely an hour. I do not know what has got into her.’ Diana hoped it did not sound like an indictment of her friend.

Apparently, he feared the same. For he said, ‘I mean no disrespect. For all her chatter, she is a pleasant girl, as is her sister. Have you known them long?’

‘I came into the household when Verity was almost fifteen. She is still nineteen and barely out.’

‘And Honoria twenty. The family must be very proud of them.’ For a moment, his gaze grew distant, as if remembering the past. And then he focused on her again. ‘And before coming here, did you have another position?’

‘As companion to an elderly lady in Kent.’

He leaned forward as though he found her rather uninteresting life to be riveting. ‘And did you prefer that job to this one?’

She smiled, surprised at his questions. ‘One position is much like another, I expect. But on the whole, I find it more enjoyable to watch the young. It was difficult to see the person in one’s care wither and die, knowing there was nothing to be done. Much more pleasant to see them blossom, as young Verity has.’ She gave a small sigh. ‘Soon, they will have no need of a chaperone here. The girls shall be fine married ladies, with husbands and houses of their own.’

‘And you will be out on the street.’He looked as though the prospect alarmed him.

She gave a little laugh of reassurance to soften the blunt way he had described her pending unemployment. ‘Hardly, I am sure. Lord and Lady Narborough have been most kind to me. They will see to it that I am properly placed somewhere. I trust them to help me, when I am no longer needed here.’

‘You might be surprised.’ He muttered the words under his breath, and for a moment, she suspected that his fondness for the family was not as great as it had at first appeared.

‘Well, in any case, I am not too worried,’ she lied. ‘When this job is finished, I will find another family who needs me. There are always openings for sensible women of a certain age.’ Although they might not be as enjoyable as her current place.

‘A sensible woman of a certain age. I see.’ Perhaps he found her good sense to be a disappointment. Or perhaps it was her age that bothered him. He was frowning at her. ‘But should you not find a place to your liking, do you have family to return to?’ He was on the edge of his chair now, as though her answer were deeply important to him.

She shook her head. ‘It has been just me for almost five years. But my situation is hardly unique. And in some ways it was easier for me than it has been for others. My mother died when I was young. And I was well-settled in employment before my father died. There was no period of sudden turmoil, as I found myself homeless and alone with no plan for the future.’ In fact, the turmoil was several years past, and her anger with her father had cooled by the time she’d lost him for good.

‘But you have no one else? I mean: no prospects, other than employment?’

She looked at him sharply. Was he enquiring if there was a gentleman in her life? ‘Certainly not.’