“We are indeed in the same social circles, Lady Diana. How fortunate.”
“Have you nothing more gallant to say? As I learned from both your poetry recitation at Lady Talridge’s and your card to me, you express yourself well enough in verse.”
Heaven might love a duck, but now, Albion gave a silent prayer of gratitude to this Saint Valentine fellow. “I regret it did not arrive on the proper date.”
“It sounds as though it came in February. Alas, it got lost in a stack of letters and mistakenly returned. Even so, better late than never, wouldn’t you say?”
He should respond in kind to her coquetry. Had that not been the point? Albion Higgins. A fool to the bone, but now a fool only for love. A lovesick pup eager to emulate one of the dashing knights of English folklore.
His thoughts tumbled clumsily over one another.Albion wanted to lose himself in Diana’s expressive eyes, to forget everything else but to take her in his arms for a tumble. He imagined his hand around her slim waist as he guided her to the bedchamber and the many delights they could partake of therein.
His claws retracted, and a low growl in his throat erupted. Lascivious thoughts clamored for release.
“Cat got your tongue, my lord?” Diana tapped him lightly on his forearm with the base of her fan. “If you cannot compose some impromptu ode in my honor, we should walk the grounds. You might offer to remove your tail coat so I won’t ruin my shoes should we encounter a puddle of mud from the recent rain.”
“I should think you a more equitable-minded woman,” he said, regaining his composure. “You have adorned yourself in blue and buff. Are those not the colors of the Whigs? Your American cousins might prefer a bit of red and white with the royal blue.”
“Much as I admire our American brethren, I am still an Englishwoman.” She smiled and snapped the fan open with her left hand, revealing exquisitely painted figures of a lord and lady in Georgian garb. Ladies’ fans and their many communicative tricks fascinated him, for the Hidden Realm had nothing of the sort. Her eyes, visible over the fan’s lace trim, regarded him with intriguing intensity. “As such, I shall strive to be amusing. Is that not how an English woman behaves when in the presence of a comely gent?”
Her gaze shifted to the tapestry overhanging the gazebo on the other side of the round garden, a mirrored match to that hanging from Lady Bellingham’s domed ceiling inside, depicting a maiden in the robe of a past era and the unicorn she was taming. “Keen that. I saw the like at Harding Howell and Company.”
Albion lowered his voice. “My brother said something similar when we were here last. He thinks it a ruse to make Lady Bellingham’s family line seem more ancient.”
“Your brother is a clever fellow. And speaking of, where is His Grace?” She looked about once more. “I thought I saw him with Countess Jessup. He regarded her most fondly if I might be so bold. Like a gentleman in love, I should say.”
Albion returned her smile. He’d a fleeting idea that a double wedding with the two Orcan brothers betrothed to human women would be pleasing. That was all stuff and nonsense, of course. Diana could not have been more explicit about refusing his proposal. He could hardly read such a future into the simple act of acknowledging he existed.
Lady Diana Stewart was stunning and vivacious, but he recognized an undercurrent today because he had felt it in himself almost constantly since he’d arrived in London. She was putting on a show for his benefit. Not mean-spirited, but false nonetheless. Diana’s manner suggested a performance.
“You seem shy today, Lord Albion. How astounding after you crafted a most extraordinary card for me.” Diana closed her fan slowly and tapped it with her finger. “And here I slipped away with the express intent of thanking you. I would not like to think my Valentine was but one of many that you sent out to the ladies of London. One hears things, you know. Why, I imagine several women’s hearts are breaking merely by way of catching a glimpse of you in the company of another.”
“You are the only lady to whom I directed such a card.” His voice trembled. Deuces if she didn’t make him nervous.
She gazed down at her delicate silk slippers. Albion had a sudden urge to bow low before her and plant a kiss on each of the dainty blue rosettes adorning them.
When Diana looked up again and licked her lips, this simple yet exquisite gesture shot sparks of fire through him.
“You’ve a talent for art. Has anyone told you as much?”
“Flattery will get you everywhere, madam.” He allowed his eyes to sparkle. Diana had prudently rejected his proposal. But they might enjoy some agreeable mischief in one another’s company.
“I hope you consider my words more than mere flattery, Lord Albion. I have mulled over our conversation at the Wayfarer’s Respite.”
His arms swung around, and his hands met behind his back. “Lady Diana.” Albion squeezed his hands into fists to steady himself. “You told me you appreciated plain talk. Pray tell. What is on your mind?”
Despite the recklessness of his proposal, he would not retract the offer. Blast it all. He didn’twantto retract it. But he had no further tolerance for games. If Diana wished to revisit that discussion, she would have to say so.
Initially, Diana intended to extend this conversation before arriving at its underlying purpose. Then again, patience had never been one of her virtues. She refolded her fan. If he wanted her to speak plainly, she would honor the request.
“I now see how precarious our reputations stand. Not just mine but my sister Lillian’s. I could leave London if need be, but then Lillian would be left to suffer.”
“You suffer as well.” Albion wasn’t grave, exactly, but cautious.
“I have taken time to reconsider my response to your proposal. On reflection, I find my position unsustainable. Which I could bear if it did not hurt my sister. She deserves none of it.”
“Your misfortune makes me worthy?”
Diana bit her lip, wishing she could withdraw that last comment. “Let me try again.”
