"Evidently, his father was a Quaker. Oh, dear. Deborah wanted to lecture me on our sail over from Tortola. It was hurting her to keep her opinions to herself. I doubt she will be able to hold in her strictures much longer. Poor Father. I grew up with him telling me how gay and charming my mother was."
"Who knows?" Lyon said, giving her a lecherous grin. "Perhaps our good Deborah is untamed in bed."
Diana doubted that sincerely, now that she knew more about bed.
As for Daniel Driscoll, he was not, they soon were to see, at all what either of them expected.
20
Not every truth is palatable.
—BEAUMARCHAIS
Daniel Driscoll was a giant of a man. A gentle giant, Diana soon discovered, despite the square, very stubborn-looking jaw and shoulders, and arms so massive and heavily muscled they strained the evening coat he was wearing. Making clothes for her stepbrother was not an easy task, she imagined, unable to do more at the moment than simply stare at him.
After introductions were genially made, Daniel took Diana's hand in his huge ones and gave her a gentle smile. "I always wanted a little sister. You are beautiful. You look very happy."
His voice was deep and slow, and his eyes, a very light blue, twinkled at her. His mother and wife looked like midgets next to him, and Diana, in hew newly discovered knowledge of marriage, wondered, slightly appalled, how he could make love to Patricia without squashing her.
"And I have never had a brother. I am delighted to have one now. And yes, I am happy." She grinned. "I would be your little sister even if I were older than you." He showed even white teeth as he smiled, and though she knew objectively that he was too rugged to be termed objectively handsome, there was such gentleness, such kindness in his face, that it didn't matter. She felt an odd surge of protectiveness toward him, which, she supposed, was ridiculous, given his sheer physical power.
"I've always wanted to go to England," Daniel said to Lyon. He towered a good five inches over the earl, and his massive shoulders blocked him from Diana's view for a moment. She wondered, stifling a giggle, how Lyon felt about being a little brother-in-law.
"Yes, well, certainly," Deborah cut in, her voice sharp. "It is just that you don't wish to go to England for the right reasons, Daniel. Surely, you must see that everything is changed now. You must ---"
"Yes, Mother." Daniel Driscoll merely smiled indulgently down at his mother from his great height, and Diana wondered how many times this particular strain of conversation occurred. She had a feeling that there was great strength of character beneath this calm-speaking man. But she was curious and was relieved when Lyon, bringing his gaze back to his new stepbrother-in-law, asked, "Why do you wish to go to England?"
"I wish to be a physician," Daniel said simply. "Have you ever heard of Dr. John Lettsom? No, well, he is a Quaker, still alive, I believe, and living in London. He was born here in the West Indies, on Little Jost Van Dyke Island. An amazing man, really, and an excellent doctor. I ---"
"Now, Daniel," Deborah said quickly, placing her hand on her son's arm, "don't run on so. You do not wish to bore his lordship." She gave Lyon an arch look. "My son hasn't yet realized that his place is here, running Savarol plantation. This idea of his is just a young man's fancy."
"Sickness is disgusting," said Patricia, "and doctors are poor folk with nothing to show for all their labors. Why, just think of that doctor you worked with in St. Thomas, Daniel. He was so poor he could barely take care of his wife and family."
> Daniel merely regarded his new wife from his great height, his face showing nothing. "Dr. Gustavus is a good man," he said only, his voice as impassive as his expression.
Lucien Savarol shook his head at his wife to forestall further comments. "We will eat on the veranda," he said.
"But, Lucien ---"
"On the veranda," Lucien repeated firmly. "Lyon is not used to the heat and there's hardly a breath of air in the dining room."
The veranda was on the second floor, some thirty feet long and ten feet in width. There was a railing and a roof and comfortable furniture. It was an odd feeling, Lyon thought as he seated Diana in a tall-backed wicker chair, to be dressed as fine as any English gathering and to be seated outside, the sounds of birds and the sea in the distance. He had wondered as he'd dressed in his evening clothes whether he would be roasted alive, and he greeted the cool evening breeze with gratitude. He stared silently a moment at the beautiful prospect before him. The well-scythed lawn was bordered with palm trees, red bullet trees, a name he'd never heard until Diana had mentioned it upon their arrival, mahogany trees, and masses of bougainvillea.
The servants --- no, slaves, he amended to himself --- walked silently, their bare feet making no sound on the mahogany floors. They were clean, wearing simple muslin trousers or dresses. The women wore bright-colored scarves about their heads.
"That, Lyon," Diana said, "is poached fish with herbed avocado sauce. And here are crab backs."
She watched his face as he tasted the dishes and smiled happily when he nodded. "Do try some sweet-potato casserole. You might not like the taste, it is very different, but ---"
"It is most unusual," Lyon said, and chewed. "Nearly as tasty as your roasted breadfruit, my dear."
"Oh," said Patricia, "I had forgotten that you were marooned together on an island! An English earl. How vastly romantic! You ate breadfruit?"
"Yes," said Diana. "And I made cassava bread, though this English earl thought the root looked disgusting, and then the English earl finally managed to spear a grouper for one dinner. We found a pool of fresh water, so that was no problem."
"You were lucky, my boy," said Lucien, "to be with Diana."
"An understatement, sir."