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Caroline said briskly.
    â€œI do not care for anything, thank you,” Diana said, speaking for the first time.
    Tristan nodded in understanding. “You must be exhausted, Diana. Mrs. Roget, our housekeeper, will show you to your room.”
    He signaled to the short, plump woman who hovered at the end of the vast entrance hall. She quickly came forward and bobbed a small curtsy.
    Diana thanked him again, noting with alarm the increased tension between husband and wife. She felt a momentary pause of regret, knowing she was the catalyst for it, but she felt too emotionally drained to try to rectify the problem. If Tristan did not thoroughly explain her bizarre situation to his wife this evening, Diana decided she would do so herself in the morning before she left. Satisfying her conscience with that notion, Diana wearily followed the housekeeper up the long staircase.
    Silently, the housekeeper led her down the short hallway and opened the door to a corner bedchamber. Two maids were busy placing fresh linens on the large four-poster bed in the center of the room, and a young footman was dragging a copper bathtub before the blazing fire. Diana noted her satchel had been placed conveniently near the bed by another footman.
    â€œShall I have a tray sent up while you wait for your bath to be ready, madam?” Mrs. Roget asked.
    â€œThat would be wonderful,” Diana responded, thinking she would enjoy a cup of hot tea in privacy. She crossed the room and sat in a comfortable overstuffed chair near the window, gazing down at the garden below as the servants bustled about the room. A pretty young maid placed a large tea tray on the table in front of her. Diana wanly smiled her thanks.
    Within minutes the maids left, and Diana sipped her tea while absently staring at the stark trees, their buds just hinting at the splendor the warmer weather would produce.
    â€œMay I assist you with your bath, madam?” Mrs. Roget asked after the footman poured the last of the steaming water into the tub.
    â€œThat will not be necessary, Mrs. Roget,” Diana responded, rising to her feet.
    â€œDon’t hesitate to ring if you need any further assistance, madam,” Mrs. Roget said before she left the room.
    Diana moved slowly about the chamber, her hands automatically undoing the long line of buttons down the front of her gown. She dipped her hand into the bathwater, testing the temperature, and she admired the luxurious size of the bathtub. The slight dampness of her dress and hair permeated her flesh, making Diana suddenly realize how cold she felt. Intent upon soaking herself in the warm comfort of the tub, Diana moved her fingers faster, releasing the fastenings of her undergarments and hastily pushing them off.
    Once naked, she slipped languidly into the hot water, shivering slightly until her body accepted the heat and finally relaxed. She stretched her legs out, letting her aching muscles float on the water’s surface. Heaving a tremendous sigh, Diana looked into the crackling flames of the nearby fire and felt the first tears begin to trickle down her face. Then suddenly, the floodgates broke, and she gripped the sides of the tub tightly with her hands as the hard, bitter tears fell.
    Tears of regret, tears of anger, tears of betrayal—all the pain and anguish came rushing forth, the wrenching sobs shaking her body, and the salty tears cleansing her deep, raw wounds.
    When Diana was finally able to regain control of her emotions, she realized how cold the bathwater had become. She plunged her face into the cooling water and picked up the small bar of lavender-scented soap. Quickly she washed and then dunked her long tresses into the water. She scrubbed her scalp hard and reached over to a nearby bucket, which held clean water to rinse her hair. That too had turned cold, but Diana welcomed its reviving chill.
    Once out of the tub, she quickly dried herself and donned her long-sleeved, high-necked flannel