Chapter 15
Diana lay in her bed, staring at the shadows on the ceiling contemplating Collette’s tantalizing suggestion that she visit Lord Greystone at his home, away from the prying eyes of theTon.If Diana dared go through with such madcap idea, she couldtalkwith him.
Although a mere conversation wasn’t likely to solve anything.
Greystone had not confessed their indiscretion to her brother, nor had he attended the Pinkerton’s Musicale that evening. In fact, two whole days had passed now without so much as a glimpse of her favorite aristocrat.
Although she’d heard he had been seen driving Lady Isabella through the park the day before. Diana hated that her belly curdled at the thought.
He had honored her request not to go to her brother and confess what they’d done, and for that, she was grateful. But she hated to admit even to herself—she was also disappointed that he hadn’t. Not that she could marry any man under such circumstances—especially not a marquess. She knew her limitations, and stepping into the role of a marchioness was one of them.
Trouble was…
She missed him.
And it troubled her more to think he was reverting to his staid and somber self to court Lady Isabella. He deserved better. He deserved more. He deserved to have fun.
Of course, she was the best person to provide that fun.
Diana heard the door creaking open but wasn’t concerned because she could just make out the shadow of her sister.
“You’re still awake,” Collette whispered before closing the door behind her.
“I am,” Diana rolled onto her side and then edged over to make room for her sister to join her. They’d begun having secret late-night talks when they were little and were yet to break the habit.
“You’re thinking of doing it, aren’t you.” Collette’s voice was more than a little exasperated. “Diana, you can’t.”
Sneaking out of Byrd House to visit Lord Greystone late at night would be highly improper and possibly dangerous.
“Remind me why not?”
Collette lay on her back, staring up at the same shadows Diana had been watching alone the moment before.
“Aside from being seen driving withher.” Collette turned her head to stare through the dark at Diana. “And then he wasn’t at the musical.”
It had been a dull evening indeed.
“Nor were Lord and Lady Huntly.” Collette added.
“Or Lady Isabella.” Diana had noticed their absence as well. How could she not? “But then again, neither was Lord Westerley, or Mr. Spencer, or—”
“Diana,” Collette interrupted. “You were the one who begged him not to speak with Chase. And now he has made his choice.”
“Has he?” Diana sighed and rolled over, tucking her hands beneath her cheek. “Or have others made it for him?”
“He isn’t one to follow his passions, Diana. He isn’t like you, is he?”
Which was precisely why he needed her.
“It’s arrogant of me to think that I know him all that well--to think that I know what he needs better than himself and his aunt and all those dead people… but,” Diana raised her hand to her heart. “I feel this pain for him, deep inside. It’s as though my heart understands what he needs, and what he really needs is…”
“What?”
“He needs… me.” Diana felt foolish the moment she said the words out loud. But Collette wasn’t laughing. She was staring up at the ceiling again. “But he cannot marry me,” Diana said. “And I cannot marry him. Not really.”
“He is a very proper gentleman, and you…”
“I am not very proper at all.”
