“With relief. It has certainly gone some way toward regaining their trust—although I still have a long way to go with that as you would expect after years of rule by fear.”
Oh, how he wished his evening trousers or coat had pockets so he could shove his fidgeting hands in them. Instead, he clamped them behind his back and resisted the urge to rock on his heels like an admiral inspecting the fleet. They were barely three feet apart now, yet it still felt like miles and he loathed it. Giles wanted the easiness back. The sparring. The sarcasm. The connection. But thanks to the cognac, they had ruined that relationship by shifting the dynamic between them until neither of them knew quite where they stood. They weren’t enemies. Yet they weren’t friends anymore, either, because they had crossed that boundary, and tragically, they could never be lovers, no matter how much she tempted him. An affair with Diana would never be enough, and thanks to theDirty Secret, forever was impossible. At least it was if she wasn’t interested…
“Do you think we should discuss what happened between us? Do I need to apologize?” He held his breath as he watched her reaction, silently hoping he would see hurt at the suggestion despite knowing his precarious situation dictated they should never repeat it.
“No…No!” She waved her initial indecision away with a flick of her wrist and an over-bright smile. “A definitive no to both. All water under the bridge, Giles. Probably best forgotten.”
“All done and dusted.” He should have been relieved but wasn’t. “A moment of madness in a fraught situation.”
“Absolutely! I cannot think what came over us. What were we thinking?” She held up her palm. “Don’t answer that. Because we weren’t thinking, were we?” Her tinkling laughter almost sounded convincing. Almost—but not quite. Something in her eyes gave her away, making him wonder if she was as disappointed as he was that they were both prepared to leave it at that. “Emotions were high, neither of us had slept properly in days, and we were both pickled by Dalton’s potent nightcap.”
She wanted to blame the brandy. The coward’s way out but he was too scared of the alternative to call it. The cowardly route was certainly easier than the I-wonder-if-you-might-consider-breaking-the-law-by-becoming-my-duchess route that his addled mind and yearning heart were currently seriously contemplating and to hell with the consequences. “I found out later it was fifty years old.”
“That explains it.” She pulled a face as if the mere memory of their indiscretion horrified her. “That cognac was almost as old as both of us combined.”
“Indeed.” Something inside him was dying. Probably hope. “No wonder we lost our heads. As if you and I…” He pulled a face of disgust that she instantly copied.
“Heaven forbid.”
“Even if I wasn’t in such a precarious position and I was able to offer something—which obviously I cannot—I’d have to be a fool to have a romantic entanglement with a headstrong and opinionated harpy like you. Talk about incompatible.”
“We come from different worlds.” She nodded, playing with the tassels of her shawl for all she was worth. “Not that I have anyinterest in a romantic entanglement, either, but if I did suddenly feel the urge, it wouldn’t be with a privileged idiot such as you. I barely like you.”
“And I barely like you, too, harridan.” The forced chuckle grated like rusty nails in his throat. “Thank goodness you feel the same! It will be a relief to get things between us back to normal. We’ve been much too polite and cordial of late and that is unsettling.”
“Agreed… I felt compelled to be nice to you after what happened to your father, but I much prefer tolerating you on sufferance.” She nibbled her bottom lip again then offered him another fake smile. “Thank goodness we finally agree on something. I was dreading you coming here and plighting your troth, then having to turn you down and breaking your heart in the process. That would have made things so awkward.”
Because this wasn’t? Giles nodded anyway. “I was terrified my superior skill at kissing might have turned your head and that you’d been swooning away for me for months. I was convinced I’d have to fight a duel with Hugh because I had broken your heart and shattered all your girlish hopes of a Valentine’s wedding.”
She laughed. A loud, brittle sound that echoed around the empty terrace. “My heart is as detached as it always was, I have never swooned in my life and I still loathe weddings. St. Valentine’s Day, too, for that matter. But I am glad we had this conversation. After two months of worrying about it, I feel as though we have finally cleared the air.” If that was the case, why did it still hang heavy between them like a shroud? “Vee is delighted you are home.” The abrupt change of subject came out too fast, making him hope against hope she was lying through her teeth just like he was. “She has really missed you, though goodness knows why, and bored mesilly about it on the carriage ride here. As has Hugh. They are both thrilled you’ve returned. He lamented your absence daily.”
He should have left it at that. Brushed it all under the carpet where it belonged and set things back on an even, if awkward, keel, but irrespective of what his sensible head and prudence cautioned, his mouth decided to disobey. “And what about you, Diana? Did you miss me, too?”
Chapter Sixteen
“I—I…” As she floundered at his unexpected and forthright question, Diana almost—almost—confessed the unpalatable truth. That not only had she missed him, but not a day passed that she hadn’t worried about his welfare or recalled his kiss. Fortunately, a sound behind them saved her from herself. She grabbed his sleeve and yanked him behind the topiary then pressed a finger to her lips. “Shhhh!”
“We are hiding now because…?” Giles mimicked her covert stance despite being bewildered by it.
“Because I just overheard Lady Pamela Beckett and Lieutenant Rory Fitzherbert arrange to meet out here.” Admitting she was working was better than admitting she cared about him.
“That is hardly worthy gossip, Diana, let alone anything scandalous enough forThe Tribune, when everyone knows Rory Fitzherbert has been head over heels in love with that girl for the last year.”
“Or so we all thought—but while you were gone, Lady Pamela became engaged to Lord Stifford. They are due to marry tomorrow—on Christmas morning.” An unlikely and hasty turn of events that not even Diana had foreseen.
He frowned, perplexed. “Why on earth is she marrying him?” Why did Giles always smell so… alluring, drat him? And why did his whispered, deep voice still send distracting shivers down her spine when she was determined to double her efforts not to be distracted by him? “Stifford’s an odious little boor who I am convinced wears a corset under his coat as I am sure I have heard it creak a time or two when we’ve played billiards. He cheats at that, too, which is another reason I don’t like him.”
“That’s as may be but he is her choice and clearly the lieutenant is unhappy with it because he was fuming when I heard him, and demanded she meet him outside immediately to discuss it.” It had been a nasty, hissed conversation as he had accosted her outside the retiring room. Diana hadn’t heard the actual words, but the tone raised her bloodhound’s hackles. “He made her cry, Giles.”
“So you are here more to protect Lady Pamela than write a story, aren’t you?” She was. She had been that frightened woman in the presence of a bigger, stronger man, but her upbringing in a very different sort of environment from Mayfair meant she knew how to fight back. The genteel Lady Pamela wouldn’t have a clue.
Giles studied her with interest. “I am starting to think that my Goddess of the Hunt is as much a rescuer as she is a Kicker of Hornets.” He prodded her arm as if she were a strange, mystery substance rather than a woman. “I also suspect there lurks a soft center beneath your hard-as-nails exterior. That you are more a rose cream than a nut brittle.” He peered at her face, his mere inches from hers thanks to the limited space behind the Buxus, and her stupid pulse ratcheted up beneath his gaze. “How do you plead?”
She didn’t deny it. “She was crying, Giles. Frightened. I couldn’t ignore that.”
“Why on earth would she be frightened of Rory? I’ve known him for years and he wouldn’t hurt a fly, let alone the woman he adores.” As two male boots approached, Diana pressed her finger to her mouth again and glared before she mouthedBe quiet!The feet did not stop at the edge of the terrace but instead jogged down the steps into the garden and disappeared down the path.
When her companion failed to see the urgency of the situation, she tugged at his sleeve. “Weneedto keep an eye on them, Giles. For her sake.”
