To be fair to her, even when at her most meddlesome, Olivia hadn’t. Right from the outset she had sensed interfering in her career would be the catalyst that pushed Diana away and had cleverly constructed a compromise that had suited them both without the need to ever discuss it. So long as Diana traveled to and from the newspaper in one of the Standish carriages, what she did in the long hours in between was tactfully ignored for the sake of family harmony. In return, Diana kept her work private when in Olivia’s world. It was never mentioned outside of their close-knit family circle, not even hinted at, which also worked in her favor because it gave her the anonymity she needed to do her job properly. In short, they had created an unspoken status quo that worked for everyone.
Of course, that would change in a heartbeat if any of the family learned she often left the safety of those offices to investigate the Sentinel’s controversial stories.
Diana flapped a hand at her hair. “Please don’t do anything too rigid or use the curling iron.”
Olivia beamed as she ran the brush through her tangled locks. “I wouldn’t dream of it. Those tight, constrained ringleted styles all the young gals favor wouldn’t suit you at all. You are too unique and mature for all that. How about something like this?” She twisted her hair up so loose curls dangled a little to one side exactlyhow Diana liked it. “Something seemingly artless and simple—but with a bit of panache?”
“That’s perfect.”
“Good. Because we want you to look pretty foryou—and not because Giles is coming to dinner, too.”
Diana pulled the expected face. “Again? Wasn’t his tiresome company all day yesterday and Christmas Eve enough? At this rate he’ll be moving in.”
“He is on his own, Diana, and I worry about him.” Olivia spoke around a mouthful of pins. “He wasn’t quite himself yesterday, did you notice? Not during that delicious moment when he swept you off your feet, of course, because that was the pure, unadulterated, naughty Giles we all know and love—” Her eyes widened with mischief. “But before that magnificent effort under the mistletoe, and after, he seemed distracted. Troubled even.”
Diana schooled her features as if she were considering it. “Perhaps he is still a little preoccupied with the burdens of being a duke? From what he told us about his planned modernizations and renovations, he is swamped with work in Shropshire, so a little preoccupation is hardly a surprise. Let’s face it, such responsibilities and decisions must have come as quite a shock to a man who had nothing to worry about beyond deciding which garish waistcoat to wear or what food to put in his bottomless stomach next.”
“I do not believe that shallow version of Giles for a second and neither do you. A great depth of character hides behind that polished veneer, alongside a forward-thinking business mind. A man with fluff for brains doesn’t amass a stock portfolio like his by chance. According to Jeremiah, our favorite, flippant duke has fingers in all sorts of lucrative pies from shipping to steel andsteam engines and was independently rich before he inherited.” A fascinating snippet of information that begged some more serious digging. “He’s philanthropic, too.” Diana knew that already from his plans for the estate. “The Reverend Smythe from Vee’s orphanage let slip over too much sherry last summer that Giles gave him a thousand pounds toward building it on the strict proviso his donation remained between them.” Olivia poked a pin into her creation. “He’s a good person, Diana—but a private one. The sort whose world could be falling apart and he would still ruthlessly hide it behind a smile.”
More proof, if proof were needed, that Lady Olivia Peabody was as sharp as an ax. “Did he mention anything concerning when the pair of you were alone?”
“Irrespective of what you might believe to the contrary, Giles and I do not have that sort of relationship. I daresay I would be the last person he ever confided in.” Lying when the older woman was brushing her hair, her canny blue eyes staring intently at her reflection, didn’t come quite as easily as it usually did. “Did he say anything to Hugh?”
“No—but we both noticed he was unusually quiet. Not quite so…”
“Glib? Irritating? Exasperating?”
“I was going to say entertaining.” Olivia smiled. “But your adjectives sound much morepromising. There is more frisson to be had in exasperating than there is in entertaining—and the frisson between the pair of you since his return has been palpable.” She wafted an imaginary fan in front of her face. “It is a mystery to me why you both fight it when we all think you go together very well.”
“Do you ever stop matchmaking?”
“Somebody needs to nudge the pair of you in the right direction, and I am starting to see obvious glimmers of partiality in both of you after your prolonged separation. But then absence always does make the heart grow fonder. Giles, certainly, could barely take his eyes off you yesterday. Especially after that kiss…”
Diana huffed heavenward even though that knowledge warmed her. “I have no control overhiseyes and no interest in them, either.” And if he was staring, that was probably down to his dire situation and the urgent need for her help rather than anything else.
“Yours wandered to his a time or two, as well.”
Only because Diana was worried about him.
Obviously.
Mostly.
They were looks of concern. At least a great many of them were. There may have been the odd stray, improper glance that fell outside those strict, acceptable parameters, fueled by the brief kiss which had thrown her wildly off kilter, but the second she caught one, it was nipped in the bud. Every time her stupid lips tingled with awareness, she repeated the same mantra she always had, even though it seemed less and less effective. She didn’t need a man, had never desired that sort of restriction in her life, and especially didn’t desire him.
She didn’t.
Even if parts of her—like her wayward lips—were beginning to question that resolve.
“My eyes wandered to his no more than they wandered to anyone else’s in the room. How many times must I reiterate I have absolutely no romantic interest in Giles? You said it yourself, I am fiercely independent and would resent anything that curtailed that. A man in my life would ruin everything I have worked for.”
“If you say so, dear.”
“The last thing I need is a husband laying the law down and telling me what to do.”
“Does Jeremiah tell me what to do? Does Hugh tell Minerva? Of course not! They wouldn’t dare.”
“That is because they are exceptions.”
