She saw her father finally shake Rafael's hand and turn back toward them. His eyes were twinkling, she thought. She felt a rush of love. Then she looked at Lyon, and the rush of feeling was far more basic.
They left immediately for Savarol Island on her father's thirty-foot sloop. Dorian was at the tiller and Diana gave him a gay greeting and a hug. The ladies were settled on a padded bench beneath a tarp canopy. Diana fidgeted as she watched Lyon and her father move toward the bow, their heads close in conversation.
"You have married my daughter," said Lucien Savarol as he studied his new son-in-law. He was a handsome man, but Lucien knew that looks meant very little. He also seemed intelligent and articulate as well. Thank God he wasn't some sort of fop. As for his character, he had no intention of allowing Diana to leave Savarol Island with him until he was certain the man was good enough for her.
"I have that honor, yes. I shall try, sir, to make her happy."
"I believe you are related to Lady Cranston? Lucia?"
"Yes, and she informs me that Diana and I meet somewhere back on the family tree. Have you ever met Lucia?"
"No, I haven't. We have, of course, corresponded somewhat erratically over the years. I was in England some twelve years ago, but she was at her estate in Yorkshire at the time. Near Escrick, I believe?"
"Yes. I also have an estate there. Diana has visited the area and enjoyed herself, I believe."
The two men were silent for a moment. The only sounds were of the slapping sails, the ever-present gulls squawking overhead, the splash of the waves against the sides of the sloop. If Lyon listened carefully, he could hear the voices of the women, but could not make out their words. He wondered how Diana was doing with her new relatives.
Lucien continued, pointing to starboard, "Savarol Island lies about two more hours east. It's a small island, blessed with ample fresh water and fine soil for sugar. My grandfather changed the name of the island in a fit of immortality, I suppose. It was called Breadfruit Island before. We are, thank God, very nearly self-sufficient."
"You love it here in the West Indies," Lyon said.
Lucien nodded, and said after a moment, "So does my daughter. I understand that you inherited Mendenhall plantation on Tortola. Forgive me for bringing you directly away before you could visit your new holdings, but there areproblems at home that I must attend to. It will give you an opportunity to learn something about growing sugar and plantation life before you go to Mendenhall, and to see Diana's home."
"I thought the cutting of sugarcane was in the spring," Lyon said mildly.
"Yes, it is our busiest season. You see, we are a community in a very real sense, which means, naturally, that there are always concerns, problems, whatever. Ah, look back at Tortola, Lyon."
Lyon obeyed. Sugarcane fields and cotton fields seemed to climb the mountains themselves. It was an impressive sight, and he momentarily forgot the squalor of the dock area of Road Town. He found himself wondering at that moment how Lucien Savarol would react to the sight of the dock areas in London.
"Your wedding was in London? I could get very little from Captain Carstairs," he added, "and believe me, I did try."
Lyon paused for just a moment. He owed this man honesty. "Actually, no, we weren't married in London. We were married by Captain Carstairs, yesterday."
To Lyon's surprise, Lucien Savarol simply stared at him for a moment, then threw back his head and laughed deeply.
"I beg your pardon, sir?"
"Forgive me, my boy. You see, I couldn't imagine my Diana succumbing so quickly, though you seem a man whose character is as strong as hers. HoweverWell, perhaps you will wish to tell me about it."
"She had refused to marry me, if you wish to know the truth. Indeed, I was simply to escort her back here, but I was coshed on the head in Plymouth and the two of us were saved by Captain Carstairs. He and his crew assumed we were married, and by the time I regained my wits, we were at sea. There weren't, of course, any other passengers on board to act as chaperone. Neither of us had a choice. But as I said, I am fond of her as I believe she is of me."
Lucien stared toward Savarol Island, not in sight yet, but he could feel its pull. "Perhaps," he said mildly, "it would be best if my wife didn't know the actual circumstances."
"As you wish, sir."
"I could tell by the way she looked at you that she does not hold you in dislike. However, DianaWell, she is a most independent girl. I had very little hope that she would find a gentleman in England to suit her. Do you love my daughter?"
"As I said, sir, I am fond of her. I will be faithful to her and protect her to the best of my ability. She will lack for nothing, nothing material, at any rate." And I will give her passion for as long as I am on this earth. But one didn't say that to a father.
This, Lyon thought with some amusement, was the parental interview. He liked Lucien Savarol. Time enough to tell Diana's father that he had no intention of owning one hundred souls.
Lucien asked him about the war and they discussed Napoleon's ill-fated Russian campaign. When Savarol Island came into view, Lyon realized that this was truly a paradise. The island was not large, not more than six miles in length and several miles wide. In the middle, there was a string of gentle hills, their sloping sides covered in sugarcane. The great house, as Diana had told him once that the plantation owners called their homes, was set upon a hill on the northern end of the island. It was a stone English manor house, rising two stories, its balconies covered with the most colorful flowers he had yet seen.
"The house was begun by my grandfather and finished by my father," said Lucien. "The stone is from our own quarry, and my father spent a fortune furnishing the place with proper English wares."
"It is very impressive," said Lyon, and meant it.
"Well, what do you think?"