C*cky Marquess by Annabelle Anders

Chapter 9

The next day, Diana wasn’t feeling quite as confident.

By the time she joined Bethany and Collette in the drawing room for her sister-in-law’s at-home, a good deal of that bravado had abandoned her. Collette eyed Diana suspiciously, likely because Diana was wearing one of her prettier gowns, with her hair curled and pinned up in a more elaborate style than usual. Bethany, however, was all smiles when she glanced up from her book.

“You look beautiful today!” And then her eyes twinkled. “Captain Edgeworth met with Chaswick earlier. He requested permission to court you, and of course, knowing that you fancied him, Chase granted it. The captain promised to return for the at-home today.”

This was good news. It was excellent news. Fidgeting, Diana poofed out one of her puffed sleeves and smiled. “I am so happy.” She shot a significant glance in her sister’s direction.

“But Diana has, unfortunately, already promised to go driving with Lord Greystone.” Collette provided.

“Oh, yes. I forgot about that.” Bethany pursed her lips but then beamed again. “Likely, that’s just as well. This way, the captain will realize he is going to have to work to earn your regard. Chase had his doubts about presenting you to society, but I knew you girls could take.”

It was Diana’s turn to send Collette a not quite admonishing look. “You would take too if only you’d try.”

“Not that I am ungrateful for the opportunity, but I will be quite happy to teach,” Collette affirmed. “Chase says Miss Primm needs someone to teach Latin and French at her ladies’ seminary.”

“That is what you genuinely wish for?” Bethany looked more than a little disappointed. “I was so hoping you’d change your mind.”

It came as no surprise to Diana that Collette would be drawn to such a vocation. She only hated that it would put so much distance between them. She and Collette were more than sisters. They were best friends. Collette had always been more academically minded than Diana—she’d had a quiet air about her, an ability to soothe their mother and Sarah in moments of distress, and many times she had kept their household from falling into chaos.

Diana, on the other hand, tended to stir the pot, rather.

“Collette will make an excellent teacher.” Diana smiled sadly. “And I’ve no doubt she’ll be inundated with respectable offers once she’s had a chance to attend a few of those country assemblies.”

“Teachers don’t marry,” Collette said.

“You don’t have to teach forever.” Bethany pointed out.

Their conversation was interrupted, then, when Mr. Ingles announced the arrival of the first visitors for the at-home. Within ten minutes, the drawing room was filled with both ladies and eligible gentlemen and was bustling with conversation.

Diana had not expected to be on the receiving end of so many bouquets, nor had she expected to feel so overwhelmed by the attentions of not only Lord Edgeworth and the soldiers who accompanied him, but a few other gentlemen as well. None of whom were titled, of course, but bachelors who were related to titles in some way or another, making them quite respectable.

And each time another guest arrived, filling the entrance to the drawing room, Diana checked to see if it was one who might be wearing bright colors and extraordinarily exquisite lace.

She’d been disappointed with each new arrival. Was it possible he’d changed his mind? Surely not! Even if he was swimming in regret after kissing her, he simply wasn’t the sort to break a promise. It would be a breach of honor, and honor motivated these English Lords more than anything.

Not all English Lords, she knew, but certainly the Lords with whom her brother consorted.

“Your eyes are the color of bluebells in spring.” Mr. Tibbons spoke earnestly, but in such a way that it seemed he’d had the compliment memorized. “And your hair, like spun gold weaving through rich English soil.”

Diana raised her brows at that but sipped her tea, smiling at the kind gentleman. Mr. Tibbons, she knew, was a widower with two small children. He was somewhat attractive despite his thinning hair and weak chin.

She glanced to where Captain Edgeworth sat with Miss Mossant and noticed him watching her. After she’d accepted an invitation to go driving with him later that week, manners had compelled her to mingle with the other guests.

The captain smirked as though he knew she was bored with her current companion but then turned his attention back to Miss Mossant.

Before she could summon even the slightest twinge of jealousy, however, Diana forgot all about him when a movement at the door sent a shiver through her.

She did not need to look to see who had arrived. She touched her fingertips to her bodice and steadied her breath.

The fluttering in her chest was all the evidence she required.

Don’t look. She steeled herself to pay attention to Mr. Tibbons’ words. What was he saying? Something about the blush of youth? She nodded and then glanced over her shoulder—the desire to search out Lord Greystone being too strong to resist.

When she captured a glimpse of his dark hair, every inch of her skin came alive.

He wasn’t looking at her, but she could tell by the twitch of his lip that he knew she was watching him.

How was it that in a room filled with guests, he was the only person that piqued her interest?

Diana turned back to Mr. Tibbons, discretely drew in a deep breath, and then exhaled in an attempt to slow her racing heart. It would be so much wiser to keep her sights pinned on Captain Edgeworth, or one of the other soldiers—or even this kind widower, for heaven’s sake. So why did her body respond like this to Lord Greystone?

Was she just like one of those gentlemen who only wanted something they thought they couldn’t have? Was this unsettling feeling so easily explained away?

Was she only going to want him so long as she knew she couldn’t have him?

That would be incredibly inconvenient.

The hair on the back of her neck stood up, and that liquid fiery sensation ebbed from her core to her limbs.

“Pastels suit you, Miss Jones.” Lord Greystone had arrived at her side, and while the room felt as though it was closing in on her, Diana’s companion turned to welcome the marquess into their conversation.

No, Mr. Tibbons wasn’t simply greeting the marquess—he was gushing.

“My Lord!” The widower bowed. “Such a pleasure to meet up with you this afternoon.”

“Timmons, is it?” Lord Greystone, level and practical, dipped his chin in acknowledgment.

“Indeed.” Mr. Tibbons nodded.

Diana smiled to herself. Had he forgotten his own name?

“Just this morning, I was reading your latest article on base number systems. Fascinating notion, my lord. Fascinating, indeed. When you have a moment, I’d love nothing more than to discuss the potential efficiencies of Herschel’s latest theory with you.”

Lord Greystone nodded, and in less than thirty seconds, Diana realized that Mr. Tibbons and her marquess might just as well be speaking a foreign language. Rather than attempt to comprehend what any of it meant, she took the opportunity to appreciate Lord Greystone’s appearance. Although he wore relatively common buff breaches that afternoon, the turquoise jacket, emerald waistcoat, and elaborate lace at his wrists ensured his ensemble was anything but common.

His dark brown hair was combed back and trimmed, and although he was cleanly shaven, tiny black whiskers were visible. Diana’s fingers itched to reach up and feel if his jaw felt rough or smooth, the memory of the unique texture vivid from the night before.

Despite seeming to be engrossed in his conversation with Mr. Tibbons, Lord Greystone’s silvery-grey gaze caught hers every so often.

Those casual glances didn’t feel casual at all.

They felt… intimate.

“…yes, of course, and I’d be more than happy to discuss this with you some other time, but I’ve engaged Miss Diana’s company for the afternoon, and I’d be a fool to keep her waiting.” Lord Greystone’s voice broached no argument as he touched his fingertips to Diana’s elbow.

And when, she wondered incredulously, had her elbows become the most sensitive part of her body? Because the stroking of his fingertips and thumb back and forth over her skin tugged at something deep inside her. When he slowly slid his hand forward, grazing over even more sensitive skin, she squeezed her thighs together.

Was he even aware of what he was doing? He must be! He exerted too much control over himself not to know he could affect her like this.

Diana shuffled her feet, startled that her knees were considerably weaker than they’d been when she’d come downstairs earlier.

“Ah, yes. Yes, indeed, my lord. Capital idea. I quite look forward to it.” The enthusiastic widower was bowing again as he backed away. “And lovely chatting with you, Miss Diana.”

Diana blinked and then smiled, grateful to be excused from making further inane conversation. Furthermore, it was all too apparent that Mr. Tibbons had enjoyed chatting with the marquess far more than chatting with her.

Because, of course, acceptable topics for ladies to discuss with proper gentlemen were limited to the weather and fashion. Her part to play was to nod fawningly at anything the gentleman chose to tell her about himself.

None of that bothered her today, however, because Lord Greystone had come as promised. She spun around to face him. “What are base number systems, and why do you write articles about them?”

The marquess’s eyes widened at her question, and then he shook his head. “You don’t really want to know,” he said.

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to know.” They were something that fascinated him, and Diana found herself wanting to, at the very least, know what they were. Expecting him to dismiss her question again, she was pleased when he pursed his lips and made an honest attempt to provide her with an answer.

“They are a system of counting that make large numbers more manageable. I study the stars, galaxies, and solar systems. Base number systems make it easier to study their distances, their movements…”

“You like to look at the stars?”

He smiled at her. “I had an observatory constructed atop Knight House about eight years ago.” What was it about this information that lifted her heart?

Diana warmed at the passion in his voice. When he mentioned his stars and his math., he didn’t sound annoyed or bored at all. He sounded… human, rather.

“On the roof?”

He grinned. “It wouldn’t do much good in the cellar.” But then he tilted his head. “I can show you sometime, if you’d like.”

He hadn’t meant to issue an actual invitation, she knew, but that didn’t mean Diana wouldn’t take him up on it someday.

Doing so might be tricky, as a proper young woman did not visit a bachelor’s home—not without an entire slew of chaperones, that was.

But Diana might do it anyway.

“I’d like that.”

He glanced around, staring over her head and then into her eyes again. “Edgeworth spoke with your brother,” he said, changing the subject rather abruptly. Perhaps he was hoping she’d forget his impulsive invitation.

That was when she realized why he’d been late. He’d visited with Chase first. Diana appreciated being looked after, cared for, and protected, but good gravy, she’d barely had a chance to learn about Edgeworth’s visit with her brother, herself.

“Does this mean there’s no longer need to pretend an affection for one another?” And why did ending their fake courtship cause her heart to drop into her shoes suddenly? There was no reason for the panic that swept through her.

He twisted his mouth into a not-quite grimace and donned that far away, thoughtful look that was becoming familiar to her. “Let’s wait until he proves his intentions are honorable before we abandon our plan.”

“But you said if he spoke with my brother then…”

“We’ll wait and see.” He always sounded so very sure of himself. “The gossips will have a field day once they see you riding in my curricle today.”

“Bethany said the same thing. I never realized the great significance of riding through the park in a carriage at a specific time with an impressive person. Members that make up the Ton are peculiar, don’t you think?”

He didn’t agree, but neither did he disagree. Diana was reasonably confident, though, that she spied a hint of laughter lurking in his eyes.

She shouldn’t feel so pleased that he wasn’t prepared to abandon their scheme yet—a scheme that had barely begun but had already proven more effective than she’d imagined.

End this impossible attachment now, a voice that sounded all too much like her mother’s whispered a warning that sent a chill down her back. She shoved it away and turned to stare across the room at Bethany’s other guests.

Because being with Lord Greystone was…

It was fun!

Could she demote her attraction to him to a mere friendship? Was that even possible between a girl like her and a gentleman like him?

“Can we go now?” she turned back to face him. “Or must we wait until the driving hour?”

He raised a hand to his chin and stared at her as though trying to read her mind.

“We can always return to the park later on…” she added.

Just when she’d decided he was going to deny her request, he nodded.

“Yes!” Diana barely managed to keep herself from hopping up and down on her toes. “Allow me a moment to fetch my bonnet.” And as she turned to rush toward her chamber, a hint of his quiet laughter followed her.