“My sentiments exactly, your lordship.” The comtesse shuddered, and changed the subject.
After twenty minutes of general conversation, she sighed. “I must take my leave before long, but I should like to invite the two of you to dine with me this evening, if you are free. I would enjoy a longer talk with dear Dianthe.”
Before he could open his mouth to accept such a singular honor, Diantha spoke. “I fear his lordship is engaged to dine with friends this evening.” Although her voice sounded properly regretful, when she looked at him a spark of anger replaced the laughter that had danced in her eyes.
“I am sure they would understand if I sent them a note, my dear.” He fixed his gaze firmly upon hers, willing her to be silent. She raised one eyebrow and turned her back to him.
“As you can see, his lordship is everything that is obliging, but I am under the impression that these are very dear friends, since he is meeting them while on his honeymoon.” He did not miss the emphasis on the last three words. “Under the circumstances, madame, I could not possibly ask him to beg off.”
The old woman regarded the two of them through narrowed eyes. Kieran immediately stood to assist her as she heaved herself to her feet with the help of her stick. “By all means dine with your friends, Lord Rossburn. I entertain often and you shall come another evening.” She faced his wife. “My dear, before I take my leave, I insist you show me over this delightful little house.”
Regally, she extended her hand for Kieran to kiss, and swept Diantha before her out of the room.
He stared after them. Something had just happened, but he had no idea what.
The comtesse wasted no time in demanding that Diantha show her the boudoir. As soon as she settled into a cushioned chair, she fixed her bright eyes on the younger woman. “Now, tell me at once what is wrong between you and that delicious young man.”
Diantha gulped once. Then the entire story burst out of her about their awkward engagement, thesenhora, Kieran’s flirtation, and his refusal to accept the realities of married life.
“Ah.” Uttering the one syllable, her friend closed her eyes and sat quite still.
“Madame?”
Only an upraised finger answered her. Interpreting the gesture as a sign to remain mute, Diantha waited. At last the comtesse opened her eyes.
“Ma fille, it is my experience that a husband is like a new pair of shoes. They are not going to change into another kind, and they are never comfortable.” She bestowed a smug smile on the younger woman. “But you can break them in.”
“That’s all very well as far as it goes, madame, but I don’t think my husband will take well to ‘breaking in.’ “ Diantha pleated and unpleated a fold of her twill skirt.
“Child, you don’t tell them what you’re doing!” Slender fingers detached Diantha’s hand from herskirt and squeezed it affectionately. “Stop that. You’ll cause a permanent crease.”
The comtesse sat back and scrutinized her from head to toe. “In truth, I must ask why you’re wearing so unflattering an ensemble. The fit is impeccable, but the only yellow you should ever contemplate wearing is pale lemon. And even that would require great caution.”
“Thanks to my mother, I have exactly three becoming gowns in my trousseau, and one of those is unsuitable for daytime.” Diantha did not hide her bitterness. The comtesse had met Mrs. Quinn.
The older woman cleared her throat. “I am sorry to say it, but your wardrobe might account for thesenhora. Although from what I have seen, Lord Rossburn’s charm has doubtless helped him conquer any number of female hearts.”
“Doubtless.” Diantha echoed the word, staring at the patterned rug under her feet. She lifted her gaze to find the comtesse regarding her with half-closed eyes.
After a sharp nod, as though confirming something to herself, the older woman rose from her chair and paced the room. “What we need is a plan of attack. Starting with your wardrobe.”
“I agree, but I can’t very well burst in on Monsieur Worth and tell him his clothes look dreadful on me.” The master couturier’s ego matched his genius.
“You shall not burst in at all. You shall write him and ask if he might see you for fittings tomorrow—I am certain he will not refuse the former Mademoiselle Quinn. I presume you have a generous allowance?”
Diantha calculated mentally. “Not enough for an entire new wardrobe at his prices. Perhaps I could purchase a few items from a less expensive modiste.”
The comtesse blanched. “After the journals have puffed off your dresses from Worth? Fatal,cherie!”She considered. “No, we shall just have to select essential pieces, starting with a ball gown. You should receive your invitations tomorrow for the one I am holding in Sabine’s honor.”
The two made a few more plans before she escorted her guest downstairs and bid her good-bye with a warm embrace. Through the open library door, she noticed Kieran’s dark head as he sat reading, but she did not go to him.
With a lighter heart than she had known in months, she hurried up the stairs. According to the Comtesse de Pontrevault, she had some things to do.
Chapter 7
In the ensuing days, Diantha could not help but give thanks for the comtesse’s plans. They kept her occupied enough to avoid brooding over Kieran’s frequent absences. Although he treated her with punctilious courtesy, he spent much of his time away from the town house near Avenue Montaigne.
Having heard back from several school friends, she arranged to meet them for shopping or luncheon or walks in the city’s famous parks, but that left many hours open to take umbrage at his defections. On one particularly bad afternoon in the Luxembourg Gardens, she witnessed the galling sight of her own husband strolling along in company with a beautiful woman of noble ancestry and rather less elevated morals.
