The Wrong Mr. Wright by Patricia Bray

Author:Patricia Bray
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781626816183
Publisher: Diversion Books
Published: 2015-02-05T16:00:00+00:00

As the carriage drew away from Grosvenor Square, Mrs. Somerville reached across the seats and patted her daughter on the hand. “You did very well tonight, Diana. No young lady there could hold a candle to you, in beauty or in grace. Even that old stickler Lady Wharton condescended to praise you, saying that you were born to be a viscountess.”

Mrs. Somerville beamed at her daughter in a rare show of approval. It was a marked contrast from Diana’s first sojourn in London, when after each society affair her mother would gaze at her reproachfully and urge Diana to follow the example of the other young ladies of the ton. Diana had protested in vain that she had no wish to be thought a witless sheep, but her mother had persisted in her belief that for Diana to be truly happy she must conform to the role that society had assigned to her.

And now, apparently, her earlier stubbornness was forgiven. Mrs. Somerville was basking in the glow of having successfully fired off her eldest daughter, securing a viscount, no less. Diana stared at her mother with incomprehension. How could her mother have forgotten so quickly that the engagement was a sham, meant to hide a scandal? She loved her mother, but she did not understand her. And she suspected that her mother felt the same mixture of affection and bafflement whenever she was confronted with her eldest daughter.

“Awkward bit, there,” her father said. “Mr. Wright, returning as he did.”

Awkward was such a tepid word. It had been a shock. An insult. A cruel blow to her composure.

“It was a surprise,” Diana said, choosing her words with care. If he sensed her distress, her father would insist on talking about what had happened. And she was too tired, and her nerves too raw, for such a conversation. “I suppose it was inevitable that we would encounter one another at some point. At least now that unpleasantness is over with.”

Her father looked at her searchingly, and then with a faint shrug of his shoulders, he seemed prepared to let the subject drop. For that mercy she was thankful.

For the remainder of the drive she sat in silence, having only to murmur the occasional word of assent, as her mother continued to chatter on about the ball and Lady Endicott’s lavish hospitality.

Mrs. Somerville seemed prepared to talk until the dawn, but as soon as they reached the town house, Diana made her escape, pleading fatigue, and retired to her chambers.

She found her maid Jenna, dozing on a cot in the dressing room, and with her help removed the elaborate ball gown and then donned her cambric night rail. She dismissed her maid and crawled into bed, but she knew that she would not sleep.

Her mind was racing in all directions, and her emotions were equally unsettled. She wished desperately for someone to talk to, someone who would understand her feelings. But the only one she could think of was Lord Endicott, and it would be hours before she would see him again.

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