Tessa Dare - [Spindle Cove 03.5] Read Free Page B

“That Lady Harriet is very strange.”
    “She’s brilliant,” Charlotte said. “What other play is going to have a dozen female parts? All those handmaidens. And no one can complain that such an amusement is improper. Our cathedral is named for St. Ursula, after all.”
    “You’ll need to be busy with costumes and such,” Sally said, happy at the prospect of imminent sales. “I’ll open the shop early tomorrow.”
    The mood in the room brightened as copies of the play were passed around and plans for rehearsals, costumes, and props volleyed back and forth.
    Diana had to agree with her sister. Lady Harriet was brilliant. This was what they all needed—a source of excitement for the coming week, and an outing to look forward to. A diversion. Perhaps it would take her mind off Mr. Dawes.
    “Of course, Diana must be Ursula.”
    Diana startled. “Why must I be Ursula?” She had been hoping for the most minor of the handmaiden roles.
    Sally lifted one shoulder in an isn’t-it-obvious shrug. “Pure. Beautiful. Saintly. That’s you, Miss Highwood, isn’t it?”
    No, Diana wanted to object. No, it isn’t. You’re looking at a woman who ogled a man’s brawny forearms this afternoon. And ran from his kiss out of cowardice, not virtue.
    For the first time since the announcement of this theatrical scheme, her mother showed genuine enthusiasm. “Yes, Diana must be Ursula. With Lord Drewe playing the role of her bridegroom. It’s perfect.”
    Diana pinched the bridge of her nose. “Mama, you do understand how this story ends? How Ursula achieved her sainthood? She is beheaded by Huns and dies a virgin.”
    “True.” Charlotte leafed through the play. “But then, so do her handmaidens. They all die virgins.”
    “There, see? At least you’ll be the leading virgin,” Mama said. “And you’ll have the best costume. A bridal costume. That will set Drewe’s mind turning.”
    “I tell you, it won’t.” In an attempt to end the conversation, Diana renewed her search for her thimble. Where could it have gone?
    With a smug harrumph, Mama propped her feet on a low stool and settled her petticoats. “You are meant to be a nobleman’s wife, Diana. I have always known it. My intuition—”
    “Forgive me, but your intuition must be flawed,” Diana replied, peering under a chair. “You’ve been predicting my lofty match for years. During that time, no fewer than three unmarried noblemen have resided in this village. None of them expressed the slightest desire to wed me.”
    “Because you did not encourage them! If you fancy a gentleman, you must let him know. Not in words, of course, but in the language of female subtleties.”
    Female subtleties? Mama possessed all the subtleties of an elephant on parade. She brazenly thrust Diana into the path of every available gentleman.
    Meanwhile, the one man Diana found attractive wasn’t a gentleman at all but the village blacksmith. And apparently subtleties weren’t her strong point, because he’d seen right through her.
    Aaron Dawes could tell her thoughts weren’t saintly.
    But he’d wanted to kiss her anyway.
    She glanced out the window again. His mare was still outside the tavern.
    “I’m not unfeeling, Mama. Merely careful. You know I’ve had to be.”
    She touched a hand to the chain around her neck and the small bottle of tincture hanging there. It was her talisman. The medicine inside was meant to help her in a breathing crisis. She’d suffered from asthma ever since she was a small girl.
    For most young people, tantrums and tears and wild whoops of joy were all normal parts of childhood. Not so in Diana’s case. Not only had she been kept inside, prevented from running and playing and stomping through the snow, but she’d also been schooled to temper her feelings. No outbursts of any kind.
    Emotions were too dangerous.
    Charlotte settled next to her, crushing into the same chair and fondly stroking Diana’s shoulder. She murmured, “You know how I