* * *
Diana managed to avoid the Marquess of Kenwood for the rest of that day and all of the next. Indeed, it was not very difficult to do. He seemed content to stay away from her, too. She almost dared hope that he had decided to give up his mockery of her and his efforts to seduce her.
Almost.But not quite.When she deliberately upset the usual order at table by entering the dining room on the arm of Mr. Peabody, she still found herself sitting opposite the marquess. And from that position it was even harder than usual to avoid catching his eye. Whenever she did so, she seemed to be in the middle of some particularly dull or foolish topic of conversation. And his very blue eyes twinkled at her.
Mr. Peabody was always eager to escort her wherever she happened to be going, it seemed. And when she was not with him, men Ernest hovered at her side, taking his task of knight protector very seriously. She could relax when Ernest was there.
He invited her into the music room the day after her own disastrous visit there, the day she studiously avoided practicing her own duet, though she and Lord Kenwood clearly needed the practice. Ernest, it seemed, was to play the violin, and Angela Wickenham was to dance.
Diana stood at the window, half of her attention on the grass and flowers and blue sky outside, and half on the activity within. Poor Ernest, she thought. He really ought not to be subjected to having to perform in public. He was no violinist, though he insisted that playing the violin was easily his best musical accomplishment.
''But you have a good sense of rhythm, my lord,'' Angela said encouragingly. "That is all I need if I am to dance. Very often, you know, I dance without any accompaniment at all except what is in my mind. So it is a treat to have a violin play for me." She wrinkled her nose and smiled at Lord Crensford.
Bless her heart, Diana thought, and then looked at the girl with more interest. She glanced from the eager little face to Ernest's frowning one and smiled secretly. Bless the girl. So many people could not seem to look pastthe nonetoo handsome features of her brother-in-law and his frequently awkward manner. But Teddy had taught her to see the affectionate and very honest heart behind the outer trappings. And Angela had seen it for herself.
Of course she was very young. Ernest was ten years older than she. There was doubtless some hero worship in that look she was giving him while he frowned over his music.
"Would you like to play it again?" Angela asked. "And I will dance?" She closed her eyes and lifted her arms, waiting for the music to begin.
Diana watched, and Lord Crensford, somehow continuing to play, gaped for the next several minutes as the girl moved to the music. No, Diana thought, awed, she did not move to the music exactly; she became the music. One became almost unaware of the scraping and squeaking of the violin, and saw and heard instead the lithe and supple grace of the dancing figure,whoseemed scarcely to touch the floor as she glided over it, twirled and leaped, every part of her body expressing the passion of the music within her.
"Oh, I say," Lord Crensford said when they had finished.
"Oh, Angela," Diana said, "how very talented you are. That was beautiful."
"You see?" Angela was beaming at Lord Crensford. "You played quite well that time, my lord, because your attention was not wholly directed toward yourself. Shall we decide upon that for tomorrow night?"
"Where did you learn to dance like that?" Lord Crensford was frowning.
She shrugged.' 'Idid not,'' she said.' 'I used to dance when I was supposed to be practicing scales or sketching or doing something else like that. I am afraid I cannot produce music with my fingers or my voice.Only with the whole of me."
Lord Crensford swallowed. "I don't know what the others will think," he said.
Diana looked at him in surprise. ''They will be entranced,'' she said.
"It doesn't seem right somehow," he said."Lester and Michael and Russell looking on and all that.And Jack."
Both Diana and Angela looked blankly at him, and he scratched his head and coughed.
"Shall we try it again, then?" he asked.
Diana watched for a while until her eyes wandered to the window. She felt very guilty. She thought perhaps she owed Lord Kenwood an apology. After all, she was the one who had caused that kiss. Though of course, he had been deliberately provoking her, putting his arms right about her like that while he played their duet.
But she had invited the kiss. And she had participated in it with quite wanton eagerness. She had wanted him. No, correction: she wanted him. Her face burned at the very thought, but it was true. She wanted to experience again what had happened at that inn. But free of the laudanum. Had she only imagined that it was so very, very good?
And she wanted to know what would have come after. Would it have been only what Teddy had done to her at least once a week during four years of marriage? Or would it have been different? Could it be different?
She wanted to know. She ached to know.
And despisedherselfquite heartily.
The man was a rake. That was all he wanted of her. And if he could not have it with her, then he would take it from any available female. Like that chambermaid! How could he have done that, and only an hour after she had left him in the music room? And how could he so shamelessly flaunt his depravity as to kiss the girl and say those words to her in an open doorway where anyone might have seen mem?Where she had seen mem.
She had felt quite sick for the rest of the day.
Oh, she owed him no apology.
And she had been quite right. She must remember her own words and know beyond a doubt that she had spoken the truth. He had nothing to offer her but heartache and emptiness. Even now she ached because of the touches they had shared, and could scarce think of anything else besides him. And yet she was not really to blame for any of those encounters. And her virtue was still intact, she supposed.
