“You are rather self-possessed,” she muttered softly to her reflection, repeating the answer she had given him earlier.
It had not been an answer at all, and she knew it.
Her cheeks warmed faintly at the recollection. She had spent the remainder of the afternoon carefully avoiding looking at him directly, though that had not prevented her from noticing his presence beside her, nor the occasional accidental brush of his hand against hers that had sent the same unsettling spark up her arm each time.
Diana set the brush down with a quiet sigh.
She rose from the chair and moved toward the bed, smoothing the folds of her nightgown as she walked. The silk was cool against her skin, and she welcomed the softness of it as a small distraction from the restless thoughts still circling her mind.
Perhaps she was imagining things. Still…
She moved toward the hearth and knelt briefly to adjust the small iron screen before the fire, watching the flames stir and brighten slightly as the embers shifted.
Still, she could not quite dismiss the way he had looked at her.
Diana rose again and crossed the room toward the dressing table to remove the final pin from her hair. The long dark strands fell loose over her shoulders as she set the pin aside, and for amoment she simply stood there in the quiet glow of the firelight, her mind wandering once again to the memory of the afternoon.
She could almost hear his voice again. Her pulse fluttered.
Then, suddenly, a knock sounded at the door.
Diana froze.
The sound was soft, restrained, yet unmistakable in the silence of the late hour. For a moment, she simply stared at the door across the room, her hand still resting against the edge of the table as the quiet knock echoed faintly through the chamber.
Another followed.
Her pulse quickened.
It is far too late for casual visitors.
She moved slowly toward the door, her bare feet silent against the carpet as she crossed the room. The flickering firelight trailed behind her, casting long shadows along the wall as she approached the handle.
Diana paused. Her hand hovered there for a moment as a small, curious thought slipped through her mind.
Could it be?—
She opened the door.
Alexander stood in the corridor.
She simply stared at him. He looked different from how she had seen him throughout the day. The formal coat and waistcoat he had worn earlier were gone, replaced now by a simple white night shirt that hung loosely over dark trousers. The sleeves were rolled slightly at his forearms, and the relaxed state of his dress made him appear less like the composed duke who commanded attention at dinner, and more like a man who had stepped from his chambers on a sudden impulse.
In one hand, he held a bottle of wine. Balanced carefully in the other were two glasses and a small box tied neatly with ribbon.
Diana blinked.
Alexander regarded her with calm amusement, as though appearing outside his bedchamber at such an hour were the most natural thing in the world.
“Good evening,” he said.
His voice carried that same warm amusement she had begun to recognize whenever he was enjoying himself.
She looked at the objects in his hands again.
“Are you hosting a gathering?” she asked.
Alexander’s mouth curved. “I thought perhaps you might like some company.”
