He watched the man closely, searching for some anchor of memory. There was none. Only the faintest sense of irritation—irrational perhaps, but sharp all the same—at the way the man’s gaze skimmed past him and settled on Diana as though assessing merchandise.
“And our dear Diana,” the gentleman continued, turning fully toward her. “You have conducted yourself admirably in His Grace’s absence. London speaks very highly of you.”
Diana’s smile did not waver. “Uncle,” she said evenly. “Aunt.”
This is her family.
Alexander’s attention sharpened.
The woman stepped forward at once, her jewels catching candlelight in gaudy flashes. Her perfume was heavy, cloying. “My sweet girl,” she exclaimed, clasping her gloved hands together in theatrical affection. “You must not hide yourself from us. We have missed you dreadfully.”
Diana inclined her head with flawless courtesy. “You have been in London the entire year.”
The statement was mild. The meaning beneath it was not.
The aunt laughed too brightly. “Oh, you know what I mean. We have missed you.”
Alexander felt her words grate against something in his chest. He did not know these people. He did not remember negotiating anything with them, but something about their tone was familiar.
Diana’s body had not relaxed. If anything, she seemed more contained now, as though bracing herself.
Her uncle turned back to Alexander, smile tightening almost imperceptibly. “We were naturally anxious when you left so soon after the wedding. Family must think of such matters.”
Alexander nodded once, the motion measured. “Indeed.”
He could not afford to misstep. He did not know what history stood between them. He did not know what version of himself these people expected to see. So, he offered them the only thing he could reliably perform: composure.
“And yet,” the uncle continued smoothly, “our Diana has borne the Season with admirable dignity.”
Alexander glanced down at her briefly. Her gaze remained fixed ahead, polite and unyielding, but he could see the tension along her jaw, the way her fingers tightened around her fan.
He shifted Diana a fraction closer to him. The movement was subtle, but it was unmistakable in its meaning. He did not know what these people had done. But he knew Diana was enduringrather than enjoying it. And he felt anger rise, unfamiliar in its source.
He masked it at once. “You speak as though she required supervision,” he said mildly.
The uncle’s brows lifted in faint surprise. “Merely guidance. A young lady does not navigate London alone without assistance.”
Diana did not move. Alexander did not look at her again. If he did, he might react too quickly, and he did not yet know enough to strike cleanly.
He forced a faint smile. “My wife has never required guidance in my presence.”
The aunt laughed again, fluttering her fan. “How charmingly protective.”
“I trust,” the uncle went on, voice lowering just slightly, “that business no longer demands such prolonged absences.”
Alexander felt something cold and decisive settle in his chest.
“I have revised my priorities,” he replied.
Diana’s breath hitched faintly beside him.
The uncle’s eyes narrowed a fraction, reassessing.
“Well,” the aunt interjected brightly, “we shall expect to see you both at dinner soon. We must reclaim some semblance of familial closeness.”
Diana’s fingers flexed once.
“We shall see,” Alexander answered before she could speak. He kept his tone pleasant, but he would not promise these people anything.
