Read Online Amanda Scott by Lady Escapade - Free Book Online Page B

brightly between them almost from the moment of first meeting had gone out. At best there was little more left than coals like those smoldering now in the little fireplace. Perhaps they had tumbled so quickly into love that it was merely a surface thing that had consumed itself.
    If the love between them had not died, then how could Simon treat her as he did now? He had not been used to scold her for every little thing she did. And she! Diana squirmed, thinking of some of the things she had done in the past months, things she had said, belittling things, things meant to hurt and ridicule him, even before his friends. Once, after three glasses of champagne, she had even told the tale of Simon’s first kiss, of how he had practically dragged a young cousin into the folly at Alderwood. She had made it sound as though he had attacked the poor girl, and she had quite neglected to mention that Simon had been ten and the cousin eight at the time.
    She had not done anything quite so reprehensible since, but she could not honestly deny the fact that she had done things she ought not to have done. Nor could she deny flirting, even with Lord Roderick Warrington. Rory was quite as much fun to flirt with as any other man, and perfectly harmless, of course, though Simon could scarcely be blamed for thinking otherwise. He did not realize that his twin was tail over top in love with the beautiful Mademoiselle Sophie Beléchappé.
    Just before Simon’s untimely entrance into the Double Cube room at Wilton, Rory had been confiding his fears to Diana that the lovely Sophie’s beauty was being exploited by her detestable brother, the Vidame de Lâche, in his peacetime efforts to regain possession of the family château. De Lâche had recently sent for both his mother and sister, Rory told her, to spend Christmas at Versailles, where he was pleading his case with the First Counsul. Why else, Rory had demanded to know, would de Lâche, a scoundrel if ever he’d known one, wish for his sister’s presence, if not to use her beauty and innocence to achieve his own ends? Poor Sophie was defenseless, he had added, because the comte, a victim of the gout, had been unable to accompany her, and madame la comtesse, though quite a grand lady, would be no match for her unscrupulous son.
    Thinking the matter over as she lay now beside the gently snoring Simon, Diana was conscious of a wish that she could tell him the whole. He still believed his brother to be a competitor for her affections, and until his jealousies could be laid to rest, she was certain the road ahead of them would be a stormy one.
    On the other hand, she told herself, her flirtations were perfectly harmless, as were her so-called escapades in general. Simon was merely attempting to force her into the sort of submission he believed proper for the future Marchioness of Marimorse to show her husband.
    He must be taught that she was made of sterner stuff. After all, he had fallen in love with an independent Diana, one as unaccustomed as he was himself to having her will crossed. And she had fallen in love with a man who had seemed at the outset content to love her as she was. But then he had begun to try to change her to suit some patterncard he had designed for his wife.
    If she were to allow him to effect all the changes he seemed to want, neither one of them would ever be happy. Better that she remain true to herself. He would not divorce her, after all. Such a course was scarcely heard of among their set. So they would be stuck with each other for many years to come. With this last thought lingering, she slipped out of the circle of his arm, pushed him hard enough to make him roll over, so as to stop his snoring, then curled up against the warmth of his back, where she quickly fell asleep.
    Simon woke her early the next morning. “Bustle about, sweetheart. The chaise will be at the door in an hour and a half.”
    She stretched, regarding him sleepily. “What time is it?”
    “Nearly