Gail Whitiker - A Most Unsuitable Bride

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What has she to hide?The mysterious heavily-veiled woman Edward Thurlow, Lord Garthdale, meets on his early-morning rides in Hyde Park intrigues and then utterly charms him. What dark secret could possibly force her to hide away from society in such a fashion?An eligible catch, Edward has eluded the marital net until now. So why, just when he's resigned himself to finding a wife, should this most unsuitable woman keep invading his thoughts?

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Fortunately, Mrs Mitchell chose that moment to return, seemingly intent on having a tête-à-tête with Diana. ‘My dear, I really must have a word with you.’

‘Of course, Aunt, but first, who is that nice looking gentleman standing by the étagère?’

‘Hmm?’ Mrs Mitchell turned in that direction. ‘Why, bless my soul, it’s Nicolas Wetherby. Lord Mowbrey’s son. A younger son, I’m afraid, but blessed with the same charm and good looks as his father and older brother. I nearly didn’t recognise him now that he’s grown into a man.’

‘Apparently, he has been smiling at Phoebe,’ Diana whispered.

‘Has he indeed?’ Mrs Mitchell glanced at her still-blushing niece, and raised one eyebrow. ‘Perhaps I should see to an introduction. Then I must come back and speak to you.’

‘Why? Is something wrong?’ Diana said, hearing the concern in her aunt’s voice.

‘Not exactly wrong, but it’s something you won’t be pleased about. Come along, Phoebe,’ Mrs Mitchell said in a brisk voice. ‘Let us make you acquainted with this handsome gentleman and see what comes of it.’

In the wake of their departure, Diana nibbled on her bottom lip. What was her aunt so anxious to tell her? If it wasn’t something bad, why would she be disturbed at hearing it?

The sound of new arrivals had Diana glancing towards the door. But when she saw who it was, apprehension welled in her throat, making it difficult for her to breathe.

Edward! He’d entered the room in the company of two ladies—one of whom looked to be around Phoebe’s age, while the other looked a few years older than Diana—and a gentleman Diana assumed to be the older lady’s husband. As they moved through the receiving line, it was obvious that they were well known. Laughter flowed easily, and both Amanda and her fiancé looked relaxed and at ease in their company.

Diana wished she could say the same.

‘Diana, what are you doing?’ Mrs Mitchell said, suddenly reappearing at her side. ‘If I didn’t know better, I would swear you were trying to disappear behind that Chinese screen.’

‘That is exactly what I am trying to do,’ Diana whispered. ‘Look there. Lord Garthdale has arrived.’

‘He has, indeed?’ Mrs Mitchell turned in time to see the family move into the room. ‘Well, so he has, and in the company of his family.’

‘All of them?’

‘Yes, the younger girl is his sister, Lady Ellen. The older one is Barbara, now Lady Black. And that is her husband, Sir Lionel. The Dowager Lady Garthdale is, of course, absent.’

The note of impatience in her aunt’s voice caught Diana by surprise. ‘You sound as though you do not care for Lady Garthdale, Aunt.’

‘In truth, I do not. The woman has become something of a pariah since her husband’s death, and has managed to alienate most of her family and nearly all of her friends. But that, my dear, is what I wished to speak to you about.’

Diana’s dark brows drew together. ‘Lady Garthdale?’

‘No, her daughter, Lady Ellen.’ Mrs Mitchell stepped around Diana so that she, too, was partially hidden behind the screen. ‘Mrs Townley told me there was something you should know. She told me because she thought it would be easier if I told you, rather than letting you hear it from someone else.’

‘Why? What did she tell you?’

‘That it seems news of another engagement is soon to be made public.’

‘What? Tonight?’

‘I doubt it will be tonight, but it will be soon.’

‘But an engagement is good news. Isn’t it?’

Mrs Mitchell looked around to make sure that no one was listening, and then leaned in to whisper, ‘That depends on the parties involved. It seems that Lady Ellen has just accepted an offer of marriage.’

‘How delightful. I’m sure her family must be pleased. But why did Mrs Townley feel that you needed to—’ Diana broke off, gasping. ‘Oh, no, Aunt. Please don’t tell me what I think you’re about to—’

‘I’m afraid I must, my dear,’ Mrs Mitchell said in the most regretful of tones. ‘As lamentable as it is, it seems the gentleman Lady Ellen has agreed to marry is none other than Lord Durling!’

It was the last thing Diana expected—or wanted—to hear. ‘Are you sure?’

‘I have no reason to doubt it. Mrs Townley has several reliable sources upon which to draw. Apparently, Lord Durling has been courting Lady Ellen for some time.’

Diana glanced with shock and dismay at the girl standing next to Edward, trying to imagine her married to a man like Lord Durling. She was lovely, to be sure, but she was like a china doll, all porcelain skin and flaxen ringlets. And young. So terribly, terribly young.

‘She can scarce know what she is about,’ Diana murmured. ‘Or what he is.’

‘If she loves him, she won’t care what he’s about,’ Mrs Mitchell said drily. ‘Only that he is handsome, charming, and anxious to marry her!’

‘As I was once,’ Diana admitted. ‘But then, Lord Durling can be a very charming and persuasive man.’

‘So could Henry VIII, but look where it got most of his wives,’ Mrs Mitchell muttered. Brows furrowed, she watched the family move around the room. ‘You don’t think it’s possible that Lord Durling has changed, do you, Diana? Perhaps he has mended his ways. After all, if he was in any way affected by what happened four years ago—’

‘I don’t know that a man whose nature tends to violence can change, Aunt, no matter how much time he is given,’ Diana said. ‘But I am curious to know why he hasn’t married before now. Surely there was no reason for him to have remained single all this time.’

‘I really can’t say. He did withdraw from society for some months after you left London,’ her aunt said, ‘but I am sure that was more as a result of his feeling compelled to do so, rather than out of any deep-rooted feelings of guilt. He was the jilted suitor, after all, and it behoved him to show some signs of remorse, whether he felt any or not.’

Diana had no doubt that any remorse Lord Durling had shown was entirely for the benefit of others. ‘Has he been seen keeping company with anyone else?’

‘There were a few ladies,’ Mrs Mitchell said, ‘but none with whom he seemed serious. Until now.’

In a decidedly subdued mood, Diana watched Edward and his family move around the room. She couldn’t deny that she was deeply troubled by the thought of Lady Ellen Thurlow marrying Lord Durling, but what could be done about it? She certainly couldn’t say anything to Edward. She hardly knew him well enough to comment on his family’s activities, even in the guise of Jenny. And he wouldn’t welcome remarks from Diana Hepworth—a woman who was known to carry a grudge against Lord Durling. On the other hand, how could she just leave the child to her fate, allowing her to be swept into a marriage that could prove not only unhappy, but potentially destructive?

As for herself, she was facing a dilemma of her own. What was she to do about Edward? Diana knew it was quite likely she would be introduced to him. He was obviously a good friend of the Townleys, and Diana had a feeling that Amanda would try to effect an introduction, seeing him as an eligible man, and her as a single lady. Did she want that to happen?

‘Aunt Isabel, there is something I must tell you,’ Diana whispered, aware that her head was starting to spin. ‘Remember I told you that I met Lord Garthdale in the park?’

‘Of course, dear. I am not likely to forget something like that.’

‘Well, as it happens, I have seen him on…two more occasions since.’

‘You have? And you did not tell me? Where? And when?’

‘I would rather not go into detail, but it is imperative that he not recognise me as that lady.’

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