His mind refused to work.
"Why did you hurt me like that?"
"You are a woman, and like all women, you ---" He broke off, his mind torn by what he had done, what he had thought, the ease by which the rage buried inside him had burst out.
"Do something with yourself," he said, his eyes going down her body. He felt himself flinch at the sight of the bloodstains on her thighs. Blood and his seed.
He had raped her. Raped his own wife, torn hear. He felt sick, the betrayed man's rage dead as cold ashes. He'd done it because he'd thought Patricia Driscoll was betraying her husband.
He quickly turned away from her and pulled o
n his trousers.
"I am going to swim in the sea," he said over his shoulder, and nearly ran from the bedchamber.
Diana didn't move until she heard Dido's quick steps nearing her bedchamber.
Patricia looked at Lyonel Ashton, Earl of Saint Leven. How had the self-righteous prig of a sister-in-law managed to trap him? And here she was, stuck with Daniel Driscoll, a young man she'd believed would rescue her from the awful genteel poverty of her aunt's house in Charlotte Amalie, a stupid man who wanted to be a physician, a man who wasn't particularly interested in her.
If she'd had the chance to go to London, it would have been to capture the earl. Wealth and position. It was what she deserved. Not an oaf like Daniel Driscoll.
She listened with half an ear to her father-in-law talking to the earl. "You should be here when the cane is cut and processed. It is bedlam. You know, Lyon, that we make sugar, molasses, and rum, of course. The most of the rum goes north, to the United States. If you like, Diana will show you about the plantation and explain things to you. She knows as much as I do about growing sugar. Diana?"
Diana raised her head and very slowly and deliberately placed her bread on her plate beside a slice of uneaten pineapple. "Yes, Father?"
Lucien gave his daughter a quizzing look. "Would you like to give your husband a tour of the island? He can ride Egremont."
Lyon started at the name. "Egremont, sir?"
"Why, yes, my boy. I know it is the name of one of your famous racing dukes in England. A small joke, I suppose."
Lyon forced a smile. "I should like you to, Diana," he said.
Lucien, of course, took his daughter's acquiescence for granted. "Excellent. I will be meeting with Theo Grainger. Our overseer," he added to Lyon. "A good man, knows the estate and can be trusted."
Like hell he can be trusted, Lyon thought. He wanted to meet the overseer. He looked at Patricia, perhaps seeking a clue, but read nothing in her expression. As for Deborah Savarol, she was markedly quiet this morning.
"Very well," Diana said. "Where is Daniel?"
"There was a sick slave," Patricia said, her voice the epitome of scorn.
Millie, a very substantial black woman, appeared at that moment. "Mr. Grainger here to see you, masse."
"Thank you, Millie. If you will excuse me?"
"I am ready, Diana," Lyon said, and rose.
"I have been riding your mare, Diana," Patricia said as Diana also rose. "She is something of a brute, isn't she?"
Diana paled, then flushed. "No, she is not."
Lyon watched her rush upstairs to change into her riding clothes. He walked slowly toward the library. He wanted to meet the overseer.
"This is my home," Diana was saying to herself as she swiftly changed her clothes. "My home, my mare. If Patricia has hurt Tanis, I will tear her hair out. As for you, my dearest husband, I will make you very sorry for what you did."
21
As always, I am bearable at one moment, unbearable the next.