He sat straight beside her, and with a searching glance along the table, Diana realized that none of the other guests seemed overly concerned with their exchange.
“What did you do?” she turned to ask him.
“I blamed her, of course.” His lip twitched as he fussed with the lace that draped over his wrist.
This gentleman wasn’t nearly the stoic he pretended to be.
Hearing Captain Edgeworth laugh at something witty that his other dinner partner must have said, Diana pounced on the opportunity to glean further instructions from the marquess.
“What should I say to him?” she whispered. “What should I do?” Her mouth suddenly dry, she scooped up her glass and took a healthy swallow of the wine. It was sweet, and she savored the flavor even after she swallowed.
Her brother never watered down the wine he served to his guests.
“Inquire how long he is going to be in London.” She only caught his words because she was listening so hard for his answer.
She nodded and then turned away from him. Even though she would address the captain who sat to the left of her, she was almost equally aware of Lord Greystone, who had initiated a conversation with the older woman on his right.
“How long will your regiment be in London?” Diana asked Captain Edgeworth.
He leaned back, allowing Miss Faraday to be included in their conversation. “As a military man, we never know for certain. But for the time being, I’m hopeful we’ll not be called back until season’s end—possibly later.”
He was proud of his vocation, deservedly so, and she could see that in his expression. He was just the sort of man she could respect in a marriage—a man with courage and strength and, best of all, no title.
He also had purpose, which would keep him out of trouble.
Purpose was something most aristocratic men lacked in spades—excepting, of course, one gentleman’s inclination to outshine all the ladies in their finery…
She sighed in resignation. Because, ironically, Lord Greystone’s tendency toward bright colors and lace was growing on her.
Not that it mattered.
“Where was he stationed before returning to England?” the whispered question sounded from behind her.
“Oh!” She blinked as she realized the marquess was assisting her in moving her conversation with the captain along.
“Where was he… where were you stationed?” Diana tilted her head because, of course, she must be fascinated to hear of this hero’s military accomplishments.
“West Africa, but I’m afraid I cannot be any more specific than that.” Diana shivered at the implications of such secrecy. As he expanded upon the workings of the military in general and then in greater detail, however, her attention wavered.
Behind her, Lord Greystone was participating in a lively conversation with the others in their vicinity. Diana found herself smiling at the anecdotes they shared involving Lord Major Cockfield, his twin sisters, and their older brother, the Duke of Blackheart.
Who she was certain was pretending to be the Marquess’s butler. She’d mentioned her suspicions to Chase, but he’d only laughed at her. Likely, the duke’s predicament had to do with one of their ridiculous gentlemanly wagers. Perhaps Lord Greystone would provide her with more details when he took her driving tomorrow.
With a start; she realized she was quite looking forward to it.
“Are you one of those ladies who would be willing to follow the drum, Miss Diana?” Captain Edgeworth ceased to speak in general but had focused his midnight blue eyes on her.
She ought to be swooning. Truly.
Why wasn’t she swooning?
“I’m not against the idea,” she answered. “Although I suppose there is something of a romantic appeal. Traveling new places every day… seeing the world…”
Captain Edgeworth frowned. “Romantic moments in the field are unfortunately far and few between.” Listening to him regale her and Miss Faraday with the hardships of moving about with a regiment, Diana winced slightly to herself.
She’d mostly just imagined the excitement of traveling to different places, meeting interesting people, and having her husband return from battle looking magnificent in victory and then sweeping her into his arms.
She had not considered that her floor would be dirt or sometimes mud, nor had she imagined sleeping out of doors, in a tent, throughout grueling winters. Even worse was Captain Edgeworth’s description of the African climate. He explained, in great detail, how the humidity and heat left one’s clothing constantly clinging to a person’s flesh, sometimes causing raised bumps, which were barely discernable from the numerous tiny spots left by mosquitos.
