Emma shook her head. “No. They are staring because the two of you look entirely too formidable together.”
Diana glanced across the ballroom. Alexander was still speaking with Maxwell and Thalia, his posture relaxed, his attention focused entirely on the conversation.
“You should see him these days,” Diana said quietly. “He is different.”
Emma studied her carefully. “Different how?”
Diana hesitated, then she lowered her voice slightly before speaking.
“He is kinder,” she admitted. “Attentive. It feels as though… as though we are beginning again.”
Emma smiled gently. “And does that frighten you?”
“A little.”
“But does it make you happy?”
Diana’s gaze drifted back toward Alexander again. He laughed at something Maxwell said, the sound warm and genuine, and her heart raced helplessly.
“Yes,” she whispered.
Emma squeezed her hand.
“Then perhaps,” she said softly, “you should allow yourself to see where it leads.”
CHAPTER 18
“Allow me,” Alexander said quietly as the carriage door opened. “Let me help you down.”
Diana looked up from the folds of her skirt just as he stepped out onto the gravel before the footman could move. The lantern light from the house fell across his shoulders, catching the dark line of his coat and the loosened white of his cravat after the long evening.
He turned immediately and offered his hand.
Diana placed her gloved fingers into his palm, and when his hand closed around hers, she felt the steady strength of his grip as he guided her carefully toward the step.
His other hand came to her waist as she descended. It was a simple gesture. Proper. Necessary even, given the height of the carriage and the sweep of her gown. And yet the warmth of hispalm through the silk seemed to send a shiver through her all the same.
Her slippers touched the gravel at last, and for a brief moment neither of them moved.
They stood close together beneath the lantern light, the great house rising behind them while the soft sounds of the London night settled gently around the drive.
Diana was too aware of how near he still stood.
The scent of sandalwood clung faintly to him. His hand lingered a bit longer at her waist before withdrawing, though the memory of the contact remained like a trace of warmth beneath her ribs.
She lifted her gaze to his.
“It was a lovely evening,” she said softly, smoothing one hand along the folds of her skirt as though the small gesture might steady the curious restlessness that had taken hold of her since the ball. “You managed it remarkably well.”
Alexander’s mouth curved slightly. “I had an excellent guide.”
A faint warmth touched her cheeks. “I merely told you who they were.”
“You also warned me which ones required caution.”
“That is an essential service in London society,” she replied lightly.
A quiet smile lingered between them. Standing here in the calm darkness of Rosewood House was much more intimate than the crowded ballroom had ever been.
