“Eep.” The cold suddenly rushed back into her bones. “You’re right.”
With one final glance over her shoulder, Diana fled back inside the house before anyone else could stumble upon them.
The wager had seemed such a good idea. An opportunity to prove to Colehaven that he was neither as perfect nor as immune as he believed. And, if Diana was honest, a chance to circumvent the hypocrisy that let men be rakes whilst spinsters were meant to stay demure and sexless.
But she wasn’t certain that either one of them had won the wager after all. Rather than snuff the sparks between them, the night had all but caught fire. Next time…
Diana shook her head. There wouldn’t be a next time. They had both learned their lesson. They would keep their hands to themselves from this moment on.
Probably.
Chapter 12
When Cole had denied any interest in a woman like Diana, the words had been automatic because they’d always been true. He knew what kind of duchess was expected of him. After spending so many years trying to prove himself, Cole would settle for no less than perfection in a wife.
That Diana had overheard him say so… Well, that hadn’t been ideal, but nor had it been untruthful. She would have expected no less.
Except, when his eyes met hers, it was his own tongue that had felt strange forming the words. As if they were no longer true, and the person he was being most dishonest with was himself.
Perhaps that was why he’d just directed his coachman to the Middleton town house. After a brief detour, to prepare a small gift.
Cole strode up the front walk and rapped smartly upon the knocker.
He wasn’t thinkingmarriage, of course. But he also was notnotthinking marriage. After last night.. He’d felt her nipples between his fingers, for God’s sake.
His body tightened every time the memory flashed before his eyes. As it had approximately every five minutes since fleeing the garden.
Five minutes.He’d never be able to hear those words again without reliving Diana Middleton sliding her fingers against his—
“Your Grace,” said the butler. “A pleasure to see you. I’m afraid master Middleton is still abed.”
“I’m here for the other one,” Cole said. The woman he suspected was the real master in this house.
He thought he’d entered into a game of chess, only to discover she’d begun the match years ago and had always been several moves ahead.
“Act of 1815,” Cole muttered beneath his breath. “Minx.”
The butler’s eyes widened. “Excuse me, Your Grace?”
Cole affected a placid smile. “Miss Middleton, if you please.”
“Very well.” The butler motioned him to the front parlor. “I’ll see if she’s receiving.”
Cole settled himself on the couch, then sprang to his feet and hurried to a wingback chair. When it came to Miss Middleton, he did not trust himself anywhere near a couch. Even if she swept into the room dressed in a mobcap and apron.
She entered wearing a gown of dusky rose with white-striped gauze, and her blond hair was pinned in soft, golden loops. She had never looked more stunning.
And her maid… was nowhere to be seen.
“Where’s your chaperone?” he demanded.
She batted her eyelashes innocently. “Do we need one?”
“We need seven or eight,” he said. “At this point, iron manacles wouldn’t hurt.”
The corner of her mouth twitched. “We’ll have to settle for Betty.”
She tugged a bell pull, then perched on the edge of a narrow chair opposite him, also avoiding the couch. “I hope you haven’t come to apologize for last night. I quite enjoyed it.”
