The maid frowned. “I’m sorry, your ladyship. Have I laced you too tightly?”
Diantha wondered if she would ever get used to having a title. “No, my stays are quite comfortable.”
In fact, they squeezed tightly, but she ignored the discomfort. “I have never thought this color flattering on me. Why my mother insists that I wear it so often is a mystery.” She crammed the matching hat on her head. “I would rather have worn yesterday’s dress again.”
“But, ma’am, imagine what all those papers would say if you wore the same dress two days running.” The servant handed her a pair of kid gloves.
Grumbling, Diantha descended to the drawing room on the first floor. It did not help her mood to see an echo of her dissatisfaction in Kieran’s eyes when they met, although he said nothing, doubtless out of good manners.
After the footmen loaded their luggage onto the carriage, they climbed inside for the drive south to the docks on the New Jersey side of the river.
She gazed out the window at small landmarks she and her brothers had picked out years ago: a tree leaning over the road like a giant, an ancient rock fall beside their route. Her throat tightened at the realization that she would not see them again for years, if ever.
“It’s difficult to leave home?” His lordship studiedher as he leaned back on the cushions, legs crossed. “I don’t blame you; it’s beautiful.”
Surprised at his perception, she considered how best to express her feelings. “Cliff Heights was never exactly a home. We only stayed there during the summer, or visited for Thanksgiving.”
Absently, she watched the dappled sunlight play over his features as they drove through the woods. “Mama would send us here with our governess and tutors when she visited her friends at Newport. We always knew we would experience a degree of freedom here that was never permitted us at other times.”
“I think as a peeress, you will find yourself free to do a great many things.”
She stared at him, thinking of hours spent memorizing rules of etiquette and precedence for the British nobility. “I fear I have never seen your title as anything but an encumbrance.”
He straightened up, brows snapping together. “My family’s title predates the union of Great Britain in 1707, and we can trace our line back to the days of Robert the Bruce. Those are hardly burdens.”
She arched a brow. “And I suppose your lineage is why you ended up seeking help from my father.” He glared at her as though searching for a rebuttal. “Sarcasm is unbecoming in a lady.”
She sniffed. “Snobbery is unattractive in a gentleman.” She subsided then, pleased at scoring her point.
They did not speak again until theColumbia’siron hull rose beside them on the dock. Kieran cleared his throat.
“We’re going to be in close quarters for the next week. Don’t you Americans have a saying aboutburying the hatchet?” He held out a hand. She took it, marveling at the warmth she felt even through her kidskin gloves.
“I’m not entirely displeased with my choice of bride, you know.” She gasped with shock at the blunt words before realizing he was teasing her. Even in jest, however, they hurt.
His eyes filled with remorse, and he moved to the seat beside her. “Forgive me, Diantha. At times I forget that not everyone shares my twisted sense of humor. Truly, my words weren’t meant to wound you.”
He squeezed her hands gently. “I only meant that despite our difficult situation, I think we can make happy lives for ourselves.”
Lives, plural, she thought with a wry smile. She had always secretly hoped to find someone who wanted to make a single life with her. But that dream had died yesterday. As Granny said, this was the only path open to her.
The aristocratic mask had dropped from Kieran’s face, and she believed he meant what he said. She nodded.
Leaning forward, he barely swept his lips over hers. “Thank you. I will be sure to guard my tongue in the future.”
“Diantha!”
They both jumped as her mother’s parasol rapped sharply against the window. Her family had arrived while they conversed. They now stood outside, waiting for a servant in Quinn livery to open the door.
Kieran’s whisper caressed her ear as he assistedher out. “We are quite sure she’s not coming with us, correct?”
Aware that her mother would have invited reporters and photographers to observe their departure from a respectful distance, she answered through a fixed smile. “If she is, I’m throwing myself overboard.”
His shoulders shook at her hissed reply.
Fortunately, her father soon monopolized the conversation, describing the ship in glowing terms for his son-in-law’s benefit. “Five thousand tons, and four-hundred-and-sixty feet long, bow to stern. It might not compare to yourGreat Easternfor size, but my goal is to provide passengers with the most comfortable passage on the seas, not stick a mess of cabins on top of a cargo ship.
“My idiot sons told me I was cracked to take out three perfectly good cabins and make them into a suite. Ha!” He clapped Kieran on the back. “We’ve sold it for every crossing in the next year, and at a higher price than all four cabins together.”
