Then, at last, she turned away, lifting her chin as she crossed the room. He watched her go, his eyes following the silver silk of her gown as it brushed softly against the polished floorboards, the faint sound lingering in the silence she left behind.
Even after she disappeared through the doorway, he remained where he was, still looking toward the place she had stood, faintly aware of an odd reluctance to let the moment end.
He did not remember marrying her. He did not remember the coldness he had shown her. But as he stood alone in the candlelight, he knew this with absolute, terrifying clarity: whatever man he had been before, he had been a fool to walk away from her.
And this time, he would burn the world down before he let her go again.
CHAPTER 4
“Must you position yourself so far away, Diana, or have you decided to conduct breakfast like a diplomatic summit?” Lady Salford’s question was crisp with amusement, but the underlying command was unmistakable.
Diana had barely crossed the threshold of the breakfast room when the observation landed. She had chosen the seat at the far end instinctively—the one bathed in morning light, removed from the solid, masculine presence already occupying the head of the table. She had not realized the movement was so transparent.
She did not look at her husband.
“I find distance improves civility,” she replied calmly, though her fingers tightened faintly around the back of the chair. “It prevents unnecessary collisions.”
Lady Salford’s silver brows lifted. “Collisions are the privilege of marriage, my dear. You will sit beside your husband. I refuse to be the cause of estrangement.”
If only the old woman understood how layered their estrangement truly was.
Diana forced her feet to move. Each step toward him felt like approaching a hearth she had once stood too near and been burned by. The breakfast room was bright with early sun; the tall windows cast pale gold across linen and polished silver. The scent of tea and toasted bread mingled with the faint, clean trace of him, all clean linen, soap, and something musky.
He was already seated, posture relaxed, one hand resting idly near his cup. He looked entirely at home.
As though he never left.
He rose the moment she approached.
His coat was dark and cut impeccably across his frame, the linen of his shirt crisp against bronzed skin. There was something unstudied about him this morning, a faint looseness in his hair that softened the hard geometry of his jaw.
He pulled the chair back for her, the gesture smooth. She lowered herself carefully, aware of the proximity of his body. She averted her eyes from him because she didn’t know how she could calm her pounding heartbeat otherwise.
As she adjusted her skirts, his fingers brushed hers. The contact lingered just long enough to register—the pad of his thumb grazing the sensitive inside of her wrist before retreating.
Her breath faltered.
She told herself it was nothing but a courtesy, a performance for Lady Salford. Yet her skin felt branded where he had touched her.
“Thank you,” she said, though she did not look at him as she spoke.
If she had, she feared he would see the way her pulse had leapt at so slight a contact.
“My pleasure,” he murmured when she thanked him, the words low enough that only she heard the subtle edge beneath them.
Lady Salford watched them both with thinly veiled delight.
“There,” she said approvingly. “No stiffness. I will not have it. Affection must not shrink under observation.”
Diana reached for her teacup before her face said something it shouldn’t. Affection had not existed in this house for a year. And yet now, seated so near that the line of his thigh nearly brushed her own, she could not deny the undercurrent thrumming beneath her ribs.
“You must tell me,” Lady Salford continued, spreading marmalade with brisk authority, “how your courtship began. I have been denied every charming detail.”
Diana’s spine straightened almost imperceptibly. Beside her, she felt Alexander shift with a kind of alert readiness, as though he sensed the trap before she did.
“At my uncle’s townhouse,” Diana said smoothly, but Alexander also answered simultaneously, “At a ball.”
The words landed together and broke apart in the air.
