Diana’s halting explanation cut off at the sight of her cousin’s face.
He wasn’t surprised.He wasn’t surprised.
He was sitting there patiently, allowing her to tell her story her way, at her own pace. A shocking, scandalous confession that didn’t surprise him in the least.
“Youknew?” she blurted in disbelief. “How long have you known?”
“From the beginning,” he said with a nonchalant shrug. “I may not be good at chess, but I’m competent at managing my affairs. At first, that included a new ward. Then my affairs included a ward who purloined aprons from the staff quarters and slunk out the servants’ exit. I haven’t been bored for a single moment since your arrival.”
Heat flooded her cheeks. Of course the servants had seen her. She’d assumed they guarded their tongues, given her position compared to theirs. Instead, her cousin had known the entire time.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” she asked.
“Because you didn’t,” he said simply. “Whenever you were ready to talk, you would. Until then, it was my duty to keep you safe. Since you stubbornly refused to take a maid with you on your excursions—”
“I was anonymous,” she protested. “Or trying to be.”
“I made certain never to impinge upon your subterfuges,” he assured her. “I kept to the shadows and daresay became reasonably adept at disguises of my own.”
Someday, Diana might look back on this moment and laugh. Today, she was simply bewildered.
“Why didn’t you read me the riot act?” she asked. “You could have locked me in my room, banished me to the countryside, sent me off to a convent or some sort of asylum for incorrigible, ungrateful wards—”
“Diana.” Thaddeus took her hands in his. “You’re not my ward. You’re an adult woman. Whether I agree with your choices in mobcaps and dukes, this is your home, too. For as long as you want it.”
A thick lump filled her throat, preventing any words from escaping. All she could do was give his hands an answering squeeze and blink away the sudden pricks of heat in her eyes.
“I don’t want to change you,” her cousin said softly. “I just want you to be happy.”
The right words, from the wrong man.
Diana’s shoulders crumpled. She could have the life she wanted, but not the person she wanted to share it with. And no matter how miserable she felt inside, it would have to be enough.
It was the best she was going to get.
Chapter 17
Cole crumpled up the report he’d kept rewriting for the past several hours and tossed the entirety into the fire.
Parliament wouldn’t resume until four o’clock this afternoon. Perhaps between now and then, the best use of his time would be to take himself down to the Wicked Duke and drink until he forgot about Diana.
If enough ale existed in the world to make that happen.
“Still moping?”
Cole jerked his head up in time to witness his sister shove an oversized basket into his study and slam the door without waiting for a response.
He hadn’t told her what happened with the House of Lords or with Diana, so he couldn’t imagine why Felicity suspected him to be moping.
A state difficult to maintain whilst plucking rambunctious kittens from every precarious surface in his study.
Cole leaped up from behind his desk, but it was too late.
The demons had been unleashed.
He looped his arm through the handle of the now-empty basket and began lurching about his study after a swarm of extremely agile kittens.
“I’m shipping you to Australia,” he shouted toward the other side of his closed door. “With these dratted kittens!”
