She herself felt close to the other woman already, but did Isabelle truly feel the same way? Would they continue to grow closer still?
At least Isabelle lived nearer to their home than her sisters did. And Matthew seemed to like her a great deal. And from what she knew of her already she would certainly like to know more.
“And who is this, then?” a sharp voice interrupted her musing, and she looked up into the narrowed eyes of a man who was unmistakably the uncle that Matthew had mentioned previously.
His resemblance to John was uncanny, though there was a harshness to his looks and manner that she certainly had not seen in his son.
“Uncle, this is Diana, my wife.”
“Diana? What is the meaning of this? Your wife was to be Lady Marigold.” His uncle sounded… furious at the change, and she attempted to smooth things over with a bright smile and a low curtsey, though her station did not dictate such a move.
“My Lord, when Matthew called on us to meet my sister, we all decided that she was not quite ready for the responsibilities of a duchess. As such, it was far more pleasing to all parties that Matthew take a wife who could manage his household and ensure that there were no troubles along the way.”
It appeared that his uncle wished to say something more, but at that moment, the door burst open and Diana’s family was suddenly spilling through it.
“Diana!” Marigold yelled and practically raced to her side before realizing that her sister was not alone. “Oh! I beg your pardon.”
She quickly dropped into a curtsey that John and Isabelle returned. Though John stared at her a little longer than necessary before reaching out his hand to bow over her own and press a kiss to the back of it.
Marigold blushed and giggled, and both Isabelle and Diana raised an eyebrow at their antics. But it was over in a moment, and Marigold once again turned her attention to her sister, though perhaps with slightly redder cheeks. Still, she did not look at John again as she squeezed Diana’s hand and her other sisters approached, curtseying and then pulling Diana into a tight hug.
Matthew stood behind all of them, watching them with a strange look on his face. One that Diana could not quite understand but gave her pause just the same. And she wondered if he was missing his parents at that moment.
But John and Isabelle stepped closer to him, and there was some mumbling and talking while she tried to catch up with her sisters. It had, after all, been some time since she had seen them, and there was a great deal to talk about. The party being only a small part of that.
Chapter Thirteen
“The house is beautiful!” Valery gushed, staring around her in amazement. “Such a lovely décor in the garden and all of those windows.”
“My, but how dreary it looks inside,” Arabella added, and their parents immediately scowled at her.
“Do not insult the Duke by disparaging his home,” the Earl admonished.
Diana laughed. “You would not insult him. He does not care for decorative things in his home. This is the way he likes it. And actually, the flowers and watercolors are my own doing. He would much rather they be gone as well.”
“That one is actuallymyown doing,” Valery teased.
The sisters smiled, though their parents still seemed frustrated with them.
“Indeed. There are few that I actually made,” Diana admitted. “But that is because you all know how poor my watercolors are in comparison to yours.”
“Yours would be much better if you had spent nearly as much time on your painting as you did in that garden,” her mother replied.
The Earl turned toward Diana with a frown. “In the garden? I thought I had put a stop to that rubbish when you were young.”
“Father, I am wed now. There is no need for you to admonish me on my habits when they have done me no harm,” Diana replied calmly.
Her father still looked unhappy, but he also knew that there was no reason to be upset with her—at least not like this.
“You seem so happy, Diana,” Marigold observed.
Diana could only smile even wider at that. “I believe that I am. Much happier than I would have expected,” she admitted.
Things seemed to be going quite well, and since the day they had spent searching for a new home, it seemed they had only continued to get better.
Diana and Matthew had supper together every night, and they would generally have at least something to say to one anotherduring the meal. Though Matthew was not the sort to chatter endlessly or share a great deal, he truly seemed to be trying.
The cook prepared more of Diana’s favorite dishes. Matthew listened or tried to when she spoke about inane things and when she spoke about the household as well.
