Diana smiled, feeling a moment of relief as the conversation took a turn to other things. However, even as the conversation flowed, Diana found it increasingly difficult to ignore Tristan’s presence. His glare had not softened; if anything, it had intensified. Every time she looked across the room, she met his gaze, and it seemed that there was a tempest brewing within him, just beneath the surface.
Her mind raced as she tried to imagine what he was thinking. He had made himself perfectly clear when they had spoken previously; he was going to marry Grace, and he saw her as nothing more than a sister-in-law. And yet, in the maze when they were alone, he had betrayed something else, in the way he had held onto her hand in such a determined way. She could not make sense of it. Perhaps he had just been playing with her, seeing if he could get a reaction out of her. He always said thatshe was too prim and proper – maybe he was just trying to shock her?
There was a part of her that longed to stride across the room and challenge him, to confront him about his silent judgment. Why should she not chat to another gentleman, when he was on the verge of becoming engaged to her sister? Or at least that was how things seemed.
But another part of her was paralyzed by the notion of drawing attention to herself and to the connection that there was between them, that forbidden attraction that she had scarcely admitted even to herself. No, she thought, she would simply have to ignore it. She turned back to Lord Anthony, promising herself that she would focus her attention on him and him alone for the rest of the evening.
“You must tell me about your home, My Lord,” she said. “I am sure you have hosted many fine gatherings yourself.”
Lord Anthony smiled. “Indeed, Lady Diana. I would be delighted to tell you more about it. And perhaps one day, you might even visit me there.”
They chatted amiably until the gong sounded for dinner.
“Might I escort you to the dining room, Lady Diana?” Lord Anthony said, offering her his arm.
She nodded. “I would be delighted.”
He smiled and began to lead her across the room. “I do hope that we shall be seated close together, and then we can continue our delightful conversation over dinner.”
Diana allowed herself to be led into the dining room, resolving to try to relax and enjoy the rest of the evening. But still she felt the weight of Tristan’s gaze sitting heavily on her heart, even now that she was no longer within his sight. Why did his opinion matter to her so much? Why did the sight of him glaring at her and her companion stir something deep within her? There was much unresolved between them still, but Diana had no idea how to make things right, not least inside herself and the turmoil of her own feelings.
Tristan felt a flicker of satisfaction as he looked around the dining room. The long mahogany table was set elegantly, with candles flickering in ornate candelabras, casting a warm glow over the gathering of guests who filled the room with laughter and conversation. As the host, he was seated at the head of the table, and he had a good view of everyone as they began the first course.
As the guests began to eat their soup, Tristan’s gaze flicked across the table, landing on Lady Diana, who sat a few places down. She seemed to be enraptured in conversation with none other than Lord Anthony Stoke.
He had watched them together in the drawing room, and now he was regretting having seated them together at dinner. It hadseemed like a good idea at the time, but now he wished he had placed her elsewhere, and he was beginning to wish that he had not invited Lord Anthony at all. Diana’s laughter rang out like music, her eyes sparkling with delight as she leaned slightly toward Lord Anthony. It was clear that she was enjoying his company. Each smile she offered him felt like a dagger to Tristan’s composure, twisting the irritation that simmered within him into something more visceral.
“Tristan, whatever is the matter?” The voice of his grandmother, the dowager countess, interrupted his dark thoughts. She sat to his right, her sharp eyes keenly observing her grandson’s demeanor.
“I am quite well, Grandmother,” he replied, his tone clipped as he attempted to maintain a facade of indifference. “There is nothing at all the matter with me.” He took a sip of his wine, willing himself to focus on the conversation at hand, yet his attention kept straying back to Diana, whose laughter seemed to grow louder with each passing moment.
“You are lying to me,” she replied, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “You appear more like a thundercloud than an earl hosting a dinner party.”
“I assure you, I am perfectly fine,” he insisted, though the tension in his jaw betrayed his agitation. “It is merely the raucousness of the party that is bothering me.”
“Raucousness, you say?” she mused, her voice dripping with skepticism. “I have never known you to be disturbed by noiseand jollity at a party, not once in your whole life.” She followed his gaze towards where Lady Diana was sitting. “Perhaps it is something else that is causing you such discomfort.”
Tristan clenched his fists beneath the table, resisting the urge to glance at Diana again. “I am simply keen to ensure that all our guests enjoy their evening.”
The dowager chuckled. “Well, I can see that you do not wish to talk about what is really going on in your troubled mind, Tristan,” she said. “But I trust that you will work out a solution to whatever it is that is bothering you.”
She turned away and began to chat to the gentleman who was seated on her other side, and Tristan breathed a sigh of relief. His grandmother always seemed to see right through him, no matter how hard he tried to conceal his feelings, but he did not want to speak to her about Lady Diana, and the infuriating distraction that she had become.
His eyes drifted towards her again and he watched as she smiled at Lord Anthony, then took a delicate sip of her soup. He could scarcely bear it any longer. But there was nothing to be done. He would focus his attention on Grace, and Grace alone, he resolved, and then perhaps he would finally forget all about her sister. Because no good could come of allowing himself to dwell on Lady Diana and her enchanting laughter and bewitching smiles.
CHAPTER 19
“Tristan, I think that you are going to have to do something about your bad mood,” Alistair said. He took a sip of coffee and looked at Tristan across the breakfast table. “You are the host of this party and if your grandmother and I are both noticing your ill temper, you can be sure that the other guests will also take note soon. And then people will start to speculate about what is the matter with you, and I am sure that you do not want to invite gossip.”
Tristan huffed. “I am not in a bad mood!” he insisted. “I do not know why everyone keeps saying so.”
Alistair laughed. “Well, it is obvious. You are taciturn and scowling and you would not even smile when Lady Bretherton played the pianoforte so beautifully last night.”
“Perhaps you are right,” Tristan sighed. “Her playing was delightful, but it did nothing to shift my ill humor. I know that Ineed to do something different today, at any rate. Things cannot carry on as they are.”
He glanced around the room, which was still almost empty. The hour was early, and most of the guests had not yet made an appearance. He thought of Diana momentarily, wondering when she would come downstairs. He hoped that she was feeling better from whatever it was that had ailed her. He had noticed, amongst all the hubbub of the previous evening, that she had retired rather early, despite her evident enjoyment of Lord Anthony’s company. He was not sure quite what to make of that. The man had kissed her hand before she walked away, and the memory of it stirred something in his chest as he thought of it. He blinked, then forced himself to shake the thoughts of her away. Why was she the first thing that popped into his head, the moment he allowed himself to relax his mind? It was almost like some kind of reflex that he could not control.
He looked out of the window. The sun was high in the sky, casting a warm glow over the gardens. “I think it will be a fine morning for a walk,” he declared, getting to his feet and crossing the room to the dresser, and helping himself to a plate of scrambled eggs and toast. “I shall ask Lady Grace to accompany me.”
