Diana said to Daniel, "I did not know Dr. Lettsom was still alive and in London. My father has told me he is an extraordinary gentleman. We had an excellent physician on board the Seawitch. His name was Blick, and he took care of Lyon."
"Yes," continued Lyon. "He took his medical training in Scotland, in Edinburgh, I believe. A fine man, and dedicated. He also taught your daughter all about goatweed, sir."
"Beware, my lord husband, or you'll find yourself at an impasse."
"Tell me of London society," Patricia said, her voice high and a bit shrill.
Daniel, who had been listening closely, now lowered his head and began to eat with stolid concentration.
Diana, after a quick drawing look at her husband, said, "Most fascinating. There was this one lady, her name was Charlotte, Lady Danvers. She had a way of making men quite mad."
Lyon, copying Daniel, merely forked down some stewed kidneys.
"Now, I was staying with Lady Lucia Cranston. A martinet and most fond of Lyon here. I personally believed that ---"
"You clumsy idiot!"
Diana gasped to see Deborah slap Moira's face, hard.
"You have ruined my gown, you stupid girl!"
She raised her hand to hit the thin black face yet again, when Lucien said, "Enough, Deborah. 'Tis just a bit of wine. Your dress isn't at all ruined."
Deborah was breathing hard, her eyes narrowed with frustration and anger. "She did it on purpose," she cried. "I will not have it!"
"Nonsense," said Diana sharply. "Moira, please fetch Mrs. Savarol some water. The wine will wash out quite easily."
"You have no say! You are not mistress here!"
Diana was ready to spring at Deborah's throat. She felt Lyon's hand on her wrist. She heard her father say, his voice calm and mild, "I had intended to have a toast to my new son-in-law. And I shall as soon as you have some more wine, my dear."
Deborah subsided. Patricia giggled nervously. Daniel merely continued eating.
"Calm, sweetheart," Lyon said quietly.
"I cannot allow her to ---"
"Later, Diana." She had rarely heard that stern tone from him before, and it stopped her.
Lucien began speaking of the repairs in the boiling house, and after a few moments, Diana managed to reply sensibly. From the corner of her eye, she saw Deborah grab a cloth from Moira and dab angrily at the stain on her gown. There was no expression whatsoever on Moira's thin face. What has she been doing? Diana wondered. She felt awash with sudden helplessness. How could her father have married such a mean-spirited woman?
She speared a bite of coconut fruitcake and chewed it furiously. When her father raised his glass, her mouth was full.
"To my son-in-law, Lyonel Ashton. My lord, welcome to my family."
"Thank you, sir."
Daniel sent a thoughtful gaze to Lyon and raised his glass.
"Yes, to you, my lord," Patricia said, her voice so sweet and winning, Diana could only stare at her. How could she flirt with Lyon with her own husband sitting beside her?
Diana had no opportunity to speak alone with her father. There was a new piano in the drawing room downstairs and Patricia played for them. Quite well, actually, Diana was forced to admit. She herself was yawning mightily after tea, and her father, smiling at her, told her to take herself to bed. He bid her and Lyon good night on the second-floor landing, Deborah at his side.
"I am glad to have you home," he said, and gently kissed her cheek. He stood looking down at her for a long moment, saying nothing, and Diana fancied that he was somehow sad. She wanted only to rid him of that sadness and said lightly, sending a sloe-eyed look toward Lyon, "He is not a bad husband, Father, stubborn and autocratic perhaps, but not exactly unmanageable."
"Daniel is right," Lucien said. "You do look happy. Good night, my dear."
Lyon quietly closed the bedchamber door and leaned against it, folding his arms over his chest.