Diana lifted her chin. “I require nothing.”
“Liar,” Georgina said with fond bluntness.
The young baroness sat opposite her, her dark hair gathered neatly at the nape of her neck, her pale eyes warm despite the teasing in her voice.
Martin rose from his seat then. He was taller than the others, his auburn hair catching the lanternlight as he straightened, the color almost copper against the night air.
“At least permit me to fetch you another drink before you continue denying all human needs.”
Diana exhaled a faint laugh. “You are too observant.”
“I am merely attentive,” he shrugged, crossing toward the small side table where fresh glasses had been set
He returned moments later, offering her a fresh glass. His fingers brushed hers briefly as she accepted it—warm, steady, entirely respectful.
“You have been admirable this year,” Martin said quietly, so that only she heard. “Do not allow the whispers to convince you otherwise.”
Her throat tightened unexpectedly. “Thank you.”
He held her gaze a moment longer, his expression kind, concerned, not pitying.
“You have never lacked strength,” he added. “But strength need not mean solitude.”
It did not. But she didn’t have the option of companionship.
She smiled faintly. “It is a comfortable companion.”
“Is it?”
Before she could answer, the gravel at the edge of the lawn crunched beneath approaching footsteps.
Alfred, the butler of Rosewood House, paused just beyond the circle of lantern light and bowed.
“Your Grace.”
Diana turned her head lazily at first, expecting some minor inquiry. “Yes?”
The butler hesitated. The pause stretched thin. Then?—
“His Grace, the Duke, is at the door. He requests an audience with you, Your Grace.”
Silence fell over the table.
Diana felt it before she truly understood it—a violent, unmistakable jolt that shot from her chest to her fingertips. The glass in her hand trembled, the dark liquid inside rippling dangerously close to the rim.
For a moment, she thought she had misheard.
“The Duke?” Georgina repeated faintly.
Martin straightened at once. Benjamin’s expression hardened with immediate protectiveness as Emma’s hand found Diana’s wrist.
“Does he mean—” Emma began.
But he did.
Diana’s breath shortened abruptly, shallow and sharp. Her heart began to pound with such force she felt it in her throat. The garden air pressed too tightly against her skin.
He was here after a year. Without warning. Her heart reacted before pride could intervene.
