“Perhaps it will all become clear at the house party next week,” Cecilia said. “It will be a good opportunity for Tristan and Grace to get to know each other better, at least, and perhaps spending more time with my brother will allay your fears about him. You have accepted the invitation, I take it?”
Diana nodded. Every ounce of her had wanted to refuse the earl’s invitation to come to his estate for a house party lasting several days, just one week form now. But she knew that if she did so, it would attract attention. Why would she and her sister choose to be absent from such a key event in the season, especially when Grace was ripe for marriage this year? No, they would have to go, and hope that there were no untoward consequences arising from the decision.
But Diana was dreading it all the same. As she and Cecilia walked back to the house, chatting of inconsequential things now, she felt that sense of unease overtaking her again. In only a few days’ time, she would see Tristan again. Not only would she have to fight to protect her sister from his charms, but she would have to work hard to resist them herself. She would not let him make a fool of her, no matter what.
CHAPTER 9
Diana hurried through the familiar corridors of her family home. The sun hung low in the sky, the afternoon drawing to a close, and the orange light cast a warm hue over the estate. The air was thick with the scent of leather and aged wood, and it smelt like home. Her visit to Cecilia had been enjoyable, but as Diana settled down at her desk in the parlor, the weight of responsibility settled heavily upon her shoulders. Her father’s ledgers awaited her attention, and she knew that she had to make some progress today, before a meeting that was planned with the steward the following day. He would want to know their plans to improve the situation, and he was a man who was fond of detail. She tossed her bonnet onto a nearby chair and rolled up her sleeves, ready to dive into the figures that dictated their lives.
As she settled down and began to focus on the task in hand, she reflected on their dwindling finances. The situation seemed to be deteriorating, and she was not sure why. Her father was increasingly leaving the details up to her, and she felt that she had no choice but to try to manage everything as best as shecould. But the estate had seen better days, and there was not much money left. She tried not to think about what they would do if it ran out completely.
As the time passed, the numbers blurred before her eyes as she tried to focus. She was lost in the labyrinth of columns and calculations when the unmistakable sound of the parlor door opening dragged her back into the present.
To her astonishment, she looked up and saw Tristan standing there, framed by the doorway like a figure out of a painting. His presence filled the space, commanding yet casual, as he leaned against the wall with an air of nonchalance. The sunlight streaming through the window caught in his hair, making it shine.
“What are you doing here?” Diana questioned, jumping up from her chair, a mixture of surprise and irritation taking her over. She felt her cheeks flush as she took in his appearance, and the confidence in his stance. Had he no shame whatsoever, to just barge into her room like this, without even knocking?
“I came to see Lady Grace,” he replied, his gaze unwavering as he assessed her from head to toe. “But your butler seems to have forgotten that I was there.”
“Bingham is getting on in years,” Diana defended, though she felt a surge of frustration as she remembered her father’s irritation only a few days ago when Bingham had forgotten to pass on his orders about the horses. “He has been…forgetful lately.”
“Forgetful? He was meant to bring me tea, and yet here I stand, parched as a desert,” he said, a playful smirk dancing on his lips. “Perhaps he has taken a holiday without informing anyone.”
Diana felt a surge of irritation and rolled her eyes. “You should not criticize him. He has worked hard for us over the years. He is not walking away from his duties, he has simply…forgotten something today.” The thought popped into her mind that she might have to do something about this situation with Bingham, if it did not improve. But servants now were expensive, and a replacement butler would no doubt cost far more than they could afford in their current situation. Bingham had not asked for an increase in pay for years, but someone new would surely expect more money. She sighed, the sense of overwhelm that she had already been experiencing for the last couple of hours only increasing.
She paused and looked at the earl, realizing as she did so the situation that they were in. “You should not be here, anyway,” she said sternly. “It is not proper for us to be alone together.” She would have to send for Grace, she thought, although that was the last thing that she wanted to do, for multiple reasons.
The earl stepped closer. “And yet here I am,” he said, looking at her a little intently.
Diana looked down at herself, remembering suddenly her disheveled state. She smoothed her skirts, but realized almost immediately that the effort was futile. Her hair was slightly askew from hours of concentration, and ink stains dotted herfingers. She was in no fit state to be receiving visitors, and she could tell from the look on Tristan’s face that he saw it too.
“Please, do not trouble yourself,” he said, moving even closer, so that he was standing right next to her desk. “I cannot deny that it is refreshing to see you looking more like what I have always imagined to be your natural state, rather than the perfectly composed lady of society everyone expects.”
Diana felt a blush creep up her neck at his words. She had always been praised for her ability to maintain an impeccable appearance. Her parents had always expected her to be perfect, No one had ever complimented her for simply being herself, disheveled and surrounded by stacks of ledgers piled up precariously on her desk.
“You shouldn’t speak so carelessly,” she said, lifting her chin defiantly. “You are simply being your usual improper self, Tristan.”
“Improper? Perhaps. But I would argue that it is a far more interesting way to live.” He took another step closer, and Diana felt her heart quicken. “You should present your disheveled self to the world more often. It suits you.”
“Suits me?” she echoed, incredulity lacing her voice. “You mean to say that I look presentable like this? Hardly.” She could not quite believe what he was saying. Surely he was toying with her? There was no way that she could ever be seen in public looking like this, and of course he must know it. But he would not stopstaring at her, with that intensity in his eyes, and she could hardly tear her gaze away from his face.
“Presentable?” He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “No, I meant that you look…real. There’s a certain charm in your disarray, Lady Diana. It’s refreshing, a welcome departure from the air of studied perfection that so often surrounds you.”
Diana’s breath caught in her throat. She had never been one to entertain such compliments; in fact, she had very rarely received them, especially not from someone like Tristan. She could not take it seriously, what he was saying. He seemed to delight in teasing her at every turn. It could not be possible that he really meant what he was saying.
She felt the heat rise in her cheeks, a mixture of embarrassment and something else she couldn’t quite identify. “You are insufferable,” she said, trying to mask the fluttering in her chest by pretending to be feeling irritation, and irritation alone.
“Perhaps I am insufferable,” he said, stepping even closer. “But you cannot deny that there is something captivating about this moment. Just you, me, and the fading light of the day.”
Diana opened her mouth to retort, but no words came. Instead, she found herself caught in his gaze, an electric tension hanging in the air between them. She resisted the urge to step back, to escape the intensity of his stare.
“My Lord,” she finally managed, her voice steadier than she felt. “You shouldn’t be here. It is entirely inappropriate. Someonecould come in at any moment and see us here alone, and then there would be a scandal, which I am sure that neither of us want.”
“Maybe so,” he replied, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “but I sense that you worry far too much about scandal, and far too much about what other people think.”
“You do not understand,” Diana bit back, feeling her frustration rising up again. “But then, I would not expect you to. A man like you does not have to worry about these things, in the same way as a young lady does. And I have to think about Grace, too, and her reputation. But you have shown already that you don’t care about these things.”
Tristan raised an eyebrow. “I have done nothing scandalous in my whole life.”
