Amanda Scott Read Free

amateur ring as for his diplomatic prowess in political circles. A distinct twinkle lingered in her eyes as Diana shook her head fondly at her sister-in-law.
    “He found us together, you see, and jumped—as, indeed, he always jumps—to all the wrong conclusions. But I’m fed to the back teeth with his temper and with his scolds,” she added, turning now so that Lydia could attend to the pearl buttons, “so I simply ordered up my horse and Ned Tredegar and rode here to you, Lyddy dear.”
    Lydia had accepted Diana’s rapid change of mood with a placidity born of long experience and had actually buttoned the bottom two buttons of the wool dress, but at these last, casual words, her hands went still, and a discerning eye would certainly have noted a paling of her cheeks. Her voice was carefully expressionless, however.
    “Andover doesn’t know where you are?”
    Diana shrugged, saying in an airy tone, “I daresay he will find me if it suits him to do so.”
    “Merciful heavens,” Lydia breathed, “he’ll murder the lot of us.”
    Just then there was a scratching at the door, and a maidservant entered, bobbing a curtsy and saying politely, “M’lady, Mr. Patcham be wishful to know if y’ want he should ’ave supper put back. It be ready t’ serve, ’e says.”
    When Lydia hesitated, Diana smiled at her. “Do up my dress, Lyddy, and we shall repair to the dining room. Simon can’t eat either of us, after all, and he may not even bother to come after me.”
    “Very well,” Lydia said, her tone long-suffering. “Dory, tell Patcham we shall be down directly. But you, my girl,” she added fiercely the moment the door had shut behind the maidservant, “are going to tell me the whole immediately after supper. How I wish Ethelmoor were here!”
    “Why, Lyddy? So he might read me a scold? He scarcely ever does, you know.”
    “Well, he will if you’ve brought Andover’s wrath down upon us all,” Lydia pointed out. “Your brother is the kindest, most gentle man alive, Diana, but he does have a temper, and I for one would as lief you didn’t stir it. Still, I cannot help but think he would have had the whole tale from you by now,” she added wistfully.
    Diana laughed. “Never mind, Lyddy. I’ll tell you everything right after supper. But hurry now. I’ve scarcely eaten a thing all day, and I’m famished.”
    Obligingly, Lydia dealt with the rest of the pearl buttons, then waited patiently while Diana smoothed her damp hair into a neat coil at the nape of her neck. These details taking a mere moment or two, the two ladies were soon seated in the large ground-floor dining room, attending to the first course of a tasty supper. With the servants in constant attendance, there was no opportunity for private conversation, but Diana had no qualms about entertaining her sister-in-law with some of the juicier bits of gossip she had collected during her recent round of house parties.
    “For you must know, dearest, that although we have managed to visit Simon’s father and Lady Ophelia at Alderwood Abbey several times since our wedding, Simon and I have scarcely set foot in Andover Court since the prince left Brighton at the end of September. First there was the hunting in Leicestershire, followed by a myriad of country house parties as we made our way south again, and then of course, I went into Hampshire to visit with Mama and Papa whilst Simon went to France with Mr. Fox and Lord Holland and the others last month.”
    “Do they truly expect this peace to last?” Lydia asked curiously. “Ethelmoor says that some of the news has been disquieting of late.”
    Diana shrugged. “The Peace of Amiens was meant to be the beginning of great things, but by all I’ve heard these past months, there has been a good deal of trouble over the bits and pieces of the treaty itself. Mr. Fox and the others are prodigiously disappointed by Mr. Bonaparte’s continued aggressions, and I believe one purpose of their visit to