Alexander finally glanced down at Diana. He felt the minute tremor in her breath, and something in him hardened with certainty.
He would not keep her here, pinned between politeness and old humiliation.
“Forgive us,” he said smoothly. “I must reclaim my wife. The next set is about to begin.”
Only once they had put several bodies and chandeliers between themselves and her relatives did he slow. The tension beneath his palm had not eased. If anything, it had hardened into something colder, quieter.
They were finally clear.
He turned toward her, angling his body so that they stood half-shielded by a column. He opened his mouth to ask what hadpassed between her and those two people, what history he had stepped into without knowing?—
A voice cut cleanly through the moment.
“You are not escaping so easily, Alexander.”
CHAPTER 6
“You are not escaping so easily, Alexander.”
The words were bright and merciless, cutting cleanly through the fragile, heated quiet beneath the marble column.
Diana felt Alexander’s body shift subtly forward beside her, as if he was bracing for impact. His hand did not leave her waist. If anything, it settled more securely there, warm and solid against the silk of her gown.
Lady Salford appeared before them with triumphant delight, her silver curls bouncing, eyes alight with mischief.
“Do not imagine,” she continued, tapping Alexander lightly upon the arm with her fan, “that you may hide in corners like a conspirator whilst I am besieged by women who demand to inspect my grandson and his bride.”
Diana could not help the faint curl of her lips. “Inspect, Grandmother?” she asked sweetly.
“Oh, far worse,” Lady Salford replied, lowering her voice dramatically. “An appraisal.”
Alexander inclined his head with exaggerated resignation. “Then by all means, let us submit ourselves to examination.”
His tone was dry, but there was a glint in his green eyes that made Diana’s pulse quicken.
He was amused. He was enjoying this. And even from the little time she’d spent with him, Diana knew that when Alexander enjoyed himself, he grew bolder.
Lady Salford looped her arm through his and seized Diana’s free hand with surprising vigor. “Come along, both of you. If I must answer questions about your devotion, I shall not do so without the visual evidence.”
Diana allowed herself to be led across the ballroom, acutely aware of the whispers rising in their wake.
“Look at them?—”
“He has not taken his hand from her?—”
“After all those rumors?—”
The air seemed warmer with every step. Alexander’s palm rested firmly at the small of her back now, guiding her through the crowd. It was an open gesture, almost protective, yet there was something in the way his thumb pressed lightly against her spine that felt distinctly private. Possessive.
She told herself it was for show. It had to be. And yet her skin tingled beneath the silk as though it were not the fabric he touched, but her directly.
They reached the semicircle of dowagers, a glittering tribunal of pearls, diamonds, and sharp, appraising eyes.
Lady Salford beamed as though presenting a prized exhibit. “Ladies, allow me to introduce my grandson, the Duke of Rosewood, and his charming wife, the Duchess. Alexander, Diana, these are dear friends of mine: Lady Weatherford, Lady Pennington, and Lady Markham.”
“So, this is the Duchess of Rosewood,” Lady Weatherford declared, her gaze sweeping over Diana’s figure with clinical interest.
Diana dipped into a composed curtsey. “I am honored, my lady.”
