Page 68 of Earl, Enemy, Husband?

A street lamp sent shards of sparkles across his face for an instant. He leaned forward. ‘You are wearing all the diamonds.’

She had donned them on the spur of the moment because the gown was so stark in all aspects except the fabric, and it needed something more.

‘I am.’

He leaned back, a gleam of white teeth caught very briefly showing his pleasure. ‘I thought you did not like them.’

She shook her head. ‘What woman would not like them?’ Lady Standish would be gnashing her teeth…a pleasing thought. ‘They did not suit the other gown.’

He chuckled a warm, companionable sound. ‘I did not buy them to suit the gown, I chose them to suit the wearer.’

‘I thought you said it was a way to display your newly acquired wealth? To regain your reputation.’

‘Partly true, but the moment I saw them, I thought of you.’

She could not help but be pleased that he had thought of her at all: such weakness.

‘Then I thank you, for they are perfect with this particular gown. It will do them justice, as you will see.’

He laughed. ‘There is no complimenting you at all, is there.’

She felt herself blush and was glad that, in the dark of the carriage, while diamonds might sparkle and teeth might gleam, a surge of an ugly red blush would not show at all.

They arrived. The house had lamps in every window and, while it was difficult to see very much of the outside architecture upon their approach, the porte-cochere arched overhead in the classical style, with doric columns supporting the roof some twenty feet above. It led through enormous, ornate double doors to a grand entrance hall where a butler and a bevy of servants waited to take their outer raiment.

They joined a queue of arrivals awaiting their turn for attention. No wonder Graydon’s mother had referred to this as the event of the season and a triumph that they had received an invitation. Especially since it was this duke who had declared Graydon’s father persona non grata all those years ago.

As they waited in the queue, Graydon looked a little grim around the mouth.

‘Surely you are not nervous?’ she asked.

His expression eased. He patted her hand where it rested on his arm. ‘Not in the least.’

‘Fibber,’ she whispered.

He smiled then, the rare, winsome smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes and curved his lips slightly upwards. He looked younger, kinder, less guarded. As always, it made her heart jump in a sweetly painful way.

A footman approached to take their cloaks. Graydon removed hers from her shoulders and shrugged out of his. When he turned back to take her arm, she held her breath. Would he approve?

She had seen the fabric for this gown when she’d been out shopping with Cole. She had bought it on a whim and had had the dressmaker create a dress starkly lacking any kind of adornment.

His eyes widened. His gaze ran down her length and back up to her face. He shook his head.

She froze. Had she made a terrible mistake?

The silk shot through with silver that caught the light with every breath needed nothing, the dressmaker had said. It was as plain as a shift and as sumptuous as a diamond-encrusted court gown.

‘You look…’ Again he shook his head, but the smile broadened and there was such warmth in his gaze it stoked heat in her belly—manly appreciation for a woman. No one had ever looked at her in quite that way.

‘I don’t have the words,’ he whispered close to her ear. ‘“Beautiful” is too weak a word. “Amazing” is too trite. You make me proud to be your husband.’

She closed her eyes on a quick, in-drawn breath. His admiration was almost too much to bear, no matter desperately she had wanted it.

He took her hand and together they walked to where the butler waited to announce their names.

For once in her life, she felt special.

When the butler announced them, Graydon felt as if every eye in the room turned to watch their entry.