The drive that afternoon proved more entertaining than Kieran expected. The realization that Diantha at least took an interest in events beyond society drawing rooms heartened him, and as theytooled along the rue du Bois, he introduced subjects of discussion he found interesting. Although she did not pretend to follow everything he said about agriculture and horses, she listened attentively and even asked a few timid questions.
“I am terribly sorry to keep pestering you, but my education is unremarkable, except that I was allowed to listen to my brothers’ mathematics lessons.” She colored a little as they drove through the dappled shade cast by the leafy canopy above. “It seems that I have inherited Papa’s gifts in that area, and it tickled him to encourage it. Mama was appalled.”
“Of course she was!” He burst out laughing, and after biting her lip, she joined in.
Over the next several days, while they did not spend every moment together, they did seek each other out more often. She encouraged him to tell her more about his estate than he had intended. He suspected her attentiveness to be based in the duties that came along with her title, but he appreciated the effort.
He even mellowed enough to tolerate the presence of Sir Harry Emerson at a small party his wife put together for dinner and the Opera on one of their last nights in Paris. At close quarters, the factory owner turned out to have a self-deprecating wit, which Kieran enjoyed; and a keen enthusiasm for music, which startled him.
His own interest in the arts extended little further than admiring a pretty opera dancer, and he listened to the spirited discussion of the evening’s performance with increasing boredom. He did bolt to attention when Diantha stood up at the start ofthe second interval and requested the older man to escort her to inspect the grand staircase.
Only the request from the Comtesse de Pontrevault to accompany her to visit a friend in a distant box prevented him from trying to follow the pair. After gritting his teeth through ten minutes of gossip, he forced himself to slow to her pace on the return to their box.
Diantha and Sir Harry came up the stone and gilt staircase, their heads close together. Kieran hung on to the shreds of his temper as passing strangers smiled at the handsome couple. Emerson carried himself with a natural dignity, and his wife looked quite elegant in a low-cut gown of deep rose with touches of black sarcenet ribbon. The diamond aigrette glittered in the light of the chandeliers overhead. He had indeed paid a visit to Cartier, and more diamonds flashed at her neck and her wrists.
As they neared, he strained to hear their words through the chattering throng.
“Do you think you could do that?” His wife looked up at Emerson with puckered brows.
“I’ll have to put the word out to my contacts.” Emerson caught sight of them and patted her black-gloved hand where it lay on his arm. “Lord Rossburn. Madame, did you enjoy speaking with your friend?”
As they strolled down the crimson carpeted hallway after the performance, he asked her about the conversation with the older man. A slight flush rose to her cheek but her expression remained tranquil. “Sir Harry is merely executing some commissions for me, since we leave Paris shortly.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Something you do not entrust to me.”
“As you characterized a visit to the Louvre as being dragged to a musty museum filled with pictures of the dead, no, I do not trust you to find paintings I might like.” Giving him a nervous smile, she changed the subject quickly, leaving him to wonder what she hid.
She did not refuse his advances that night, and as always, her wholehearted response to him touched him deeply. They stayed awake for a while afterward, and he found himself speaking of his home, Duncarie.
She stroked a hand over his chest. “You’re anxious to get back.”
“Yes.” He thought her loveliest like this, lips swollen and dark blue eyes dreamy, with her silken skin pressed against his as he held her. “Going away to school was always a wrench.”
She sighed. “I always envied my brothers because they were allowed to leave. My year at finishing school was the most wonderful of my life, except for being away from my grandmother.”
“Would it be excessively uncivil to say I like you a lot better now that you’re away from your mother?” He grinned down at her, expecting her to make a sharp retort.
Instead, some of the light died out of her eyes. “Yes it would.” She dropped her gaze to the linen pillowcase. “But then I like me better now, too.” She rolled onto her side, facing away from him. An invisible barrier rose between them that did not dissipate when he ran his fingers down her back.“I should like to go to sleep now, Kieran. There’s a great deal to oversee before we leave.”
As had become his habit, he stayed with her until she fell asleep, even dozing himself.
When he roused, the candles had guttered out. The temptation to stay the night next to her warm body teased at him, but he resisted it. He did not wish to face the recriminations when he eventually lost interest in her. Careful not to wake her, he slipped out of bed and shrugged into his robe. Picking the pyjamas off the floor, he felt his way in the dark to his door.
He feared he resembled his father too strongly to be good husband material. Better not to hurt her any more than was necessary.
Lord and Lady Rossburn left Paris a few days later. They stopped in London to allow Diantha to meet some of Kieran’s friends and relatives who had gathered for the Season. At first, she enjoyed attending dinners and balls free from her mother’s domination, but she resented condescending remarks about her family’s mercantile background.
She particularly dreaded the final dinner party of their stay. A “family party” hosted by the excruciatingly correct Duke and Duchess of Folkestone, connections of Kieran’s mother, it promised to be deadly dull. To bolster her morale, she and Florette selected her toilette for the evening ahead of time, going over every detail in the days previous.
Now she stood in the center of her room while Florette scrutinized her appearance. They had decided on a gown of rose-colored velvet that enhanced her complexion and eyes. The Rossburn parure had arrived from Scotland and diamondsglittered attractively against her brown hair. The matching pieces adorned her neck, ears, and wrists. After a last twitch of her hem, the servant stepped back. “Milady will do great credit to us this evening.”
Diantha prayed for patience. The maid’s determination to present her to London in the best light possible verged on the rabid. “How gratifying.”
As she descended to the landing above the entry hall, Kieran’s voice floated up. “Dammit, Diantha, we should have left ten minutes ago!”
“I’m terribly sorry for the delay, but we should still arrive in plenty of time.” She offered the apology a little breathlessly, for Kieran stopped shouting as soon as she appeared. Now his appreciative gaze lingered on the swell of her breasts, exposed by the gown’s low neckline. She rubbed her thighs together under skirts, embarrassed at a rush of moisture under the aqua heat of his appraisal.
He cleared his throat. “You do look very well this evening, but we are late.” Signaling to a waiting footman, he took her wrap and settled it around her shoulders.
