Diana frowned slightly. “Lady Salford…”
“Oh, my dear, do not look so concerned.” The older woman reached across the table and squeezed her hand warmly. “I am merely going to pay a little visit.” Then she added with unmistakable mischief, “And besides… You two might enjoy a little peace and quiet.”
Diana felt the words settle somewhere low in her chest, warm and unsettling all at once, as though the older woman had just announced something far more terrifying than a simple visit.
Across the table, Alexander’s gaze moved slowly toward her. He did not say anything, and the silence between them suddenly carried an entirely different weight.
Diana became acutely aware of the quiet breakfast room, the sunlight warming the polished wood of the table, the faint rustle of leaves outside the open window. The ordinary details of the morning felt strangely vivid, as though the world had sharpened around the realization that they would soon bealone.
Lady Salford rose from her chair with brisk energy, entirely unaware—or perhaps entirely aware—of the effect her announcement had produced.
“Well then,” she said cheerfully, smoothing the front of her gown. “I must begin preparing at once. I have neglected Lady Harrowby long enough.”
Diana stood as well, instinctively. “You are leavingtoday?”
“This afternoon.” Lady Salford winked at her. “One must not keep old friends waiting.”
Then she swept from the room with lively determination, leaving behind a silence that felt suddenly enormous.
Diana sat back down slowly. Alexander had not moved, his eyes still fixed on her face. The realization made her pulse stumble.
“You look troubled,” he said at last.
“I am not troubled,” she replied too quickly.
His brow lifted slightly. “Of course you are not.”
She reached for her teacup, more for the sake of occupying her hands than because she wished to drink from it. The porcelain felt warm against her fingers, grounding in its familiarity, yet the simple gesture did little to steady the uneasy stir in her chest.
Peace and quiet, indeed.
The hours slipped past far more quickly than Diana would have liked. The household moved through its ordinary rhythms, servants crossing the corridors, trunks being carried down the staircase as Lady Salford’s cheerful voice rang out while she issued instructions.
When at last the dowager’s carriage rolled down the gravel drive that afternoon, the house felt changed almost immediately. Quieter.
The liveliness Lady Salford had carried with her seemed to vanish the moment the gates closed behind the departing carriage. The echo of her laughter faded into the high ceilings and long hallways of Rosewood House, leaving behind a stillness that felt larger than the building itself.
By late afternoon, the light had softened into a warm golden haze that settled gently across the gardens. Diana sought refuge there instinctively, carrying a book with her as she stepped onto the winding path that led toward the fountain.
The garden had always been her sanctuary.
The air smelled faintly of roses and damp stone, the slow murmur of water from the fountain blending with the quiet rustle of leaves stirred by the breeze. She settled onto the smallbench beside the basin and opened her book, letting the familiar weight of it rest in her lap.
For a time, the quiet soothed her.
The pages turned slowly beneath her fingers as she tried to lose herself in the story, letting the steady rhythm of reading calm the restless tension that had followed her since breakfast. In that gentle stillness, the garden felt like a small world apart from the house.
But her thoughts refused to cooperate. They wandered stubbornly back to the house and the quiet that had followed. Back to Alexander.
They were alone.
What would it be like now that there was nothing left to interrupt them? Would he continue to look at her that way across the dinner table? That steady, intent gaze that lingered just long enough to make her pulse quicken?
The thought made Diana press her fingers more firmly against the page of her book.
Closing the book softly, Diana rose from the bench and brushed the folds of her gown smooth as she turned toward the house.
By the time she climbed the staircase and stepped into the long corridor leading to her chambers, the golden light of the garden had begun to fade into the quieter tones of evening.
