“Why not?”
“Because you only have one hat.”
Lady Salford considered this. “Hm.”
Then she handed the ribbons to the shopkeeper. “I will take them all.”
Diana shook her head in disbelief. “You are incorrigible.”
Lady Salford winked. “And proud of it.”
She picked up a soft golden ribbon and held it against Diana’s hair.
“Oh.” Her smile softened. “This one suits you.”
Diana felt a strange warmth spread through her chest as the older woman pressed the ribbon into her hand.
“For you,” Lady Salford said simply.
Diana’s throat tightened unexpectedly. No one had done something so simple and kind for her in a very long time.
“Thank you,” she said quietly.
Lady Salford merely waved the gratitude aside with the casual ease of someone who considered kindness an ordinary matter rather than something deserving ceremony. Yet Diana carried the warmth of the gesture with her as they stepped back out onto the street, the ribbon tucked carefully in her hand.
They continued along the lively pavement at an unhurried pace, pausing now and then before a window display or exchanging quiet remarks about the people passing by. The outing had settled into a comfortable rhythm, the sort of easy companionship Diana had rarely experienced before.
After some time, Lady Salford slowed once more, her attention caught by another shop just ahead, a small pastry shop tucked into a quiet corner of the street.
The air inside smelled richly of butter and sugar. They settled at a small table by the window while a tray of pastries appeared before them.
Lady Salford immediately reached for the largest one.
Diana laughed. “You are supposed to pretend to hesitate.”
“Why?”
“Because ladies must maintain appearances.”
Lady Salford bit into the pastry.
“My dear Diana,” she said cheerfully, crumbs scattering slightly, as she gestured to the tray. “What is life without sweetness?”
Diana smiled. And as she took her own pastry, she realized something quietly surprising.
For the first time since Alexander’s return, she felt peaceful.
CHAPTER 11
“Where is my wife?” Alexander did not raise his voice when he asked the question, yet he still couldn’t hide his impatience behind his words.
He had not meant to sound quite so sharp, yet the moment the sentence left his mouth, he realized that the question had not been born from idle curiosity.
He had been waiting longer than he cared to admit.
The footman standing near the door straightened immediately. “Her Grace has not yet returned, Your Grace.”
Alexander leaned back slowly in his chair, his fingers resting loosely around the stem of his wineglass while his gaze drifted toward the untouched place setting across the table.
