“I thought the Queen’s Drawing Room didn’t begin until two.”
“Yes, but there will be a dreadful line of carriages, so it’s best to go early.”
He arched an eyebrow. “How early?”
“Noon?”
He groaned. “I shall see you then.”
“No, earlier than that, because you must change clothes.”
“Fine. Eleven.”
She beamed at him. “Perfect!”
When she turned to go, he stopped her with one hand. “You may have to dress me after all, Diana. Because you’re right, that barely leaves me time to do what I must.”
She looked down her nose at him. “Then you’d best hurry, Your Grace, hadn’t you?” And resisting the urge to watch his reaction to that, she walked away smiling.
Chapter Seven
Standing next to his friend Foxstead, Geoffrey watched for Rosy from a corner of the Blue Drawing Room. He’d already had his fill of St. James’s Palace. Too many strangers, too many odd looks from people wondering who he was, too many feathers, and definitely too many glittering diamonds. He simply didn’t belong here.
Worse yet, Lady Diana was alone in the first of the two carriages he’d been forced to bring to accommodate two women in hoop skirts. He told himself there was no safer place in London at present than the streets around the palace. But it still nagged at him that he’d left the lady alone.
As if reading his mind, Lord Foxstead said, “You know, you no longer have to stay. No one does. The ladies will be quite a while, judging from the long line of them waiting in the corridor as I came in. I’m leaving myself. You could join me at White’s for a glass of brandy. It’s close enough to walk, and I’m sure Mrs. Pierce has matters well in hand with Lady Rosabel. The widow will make certain your sister arrives home in plenty of time for the dinner.”
Bloody hell. He’d forgotten there was still to be a dinner at Grenwood House tonight, with thirty guests and dancing afterward.Intimate dinner entertainment, my arse.
“Thank you, Foxstead,” he told the earl. “But I think I’ll wait for my sister in the carriage.”With Lady Diana. Whom you ought to be avoiding. And who draws you to her as a lodestone draws iron.
“As you wish. Either way, I’ll see you this evening. But if you change your mind about joining me at White’s, simply tell the porter you’re a guest of mine and he’ll show you right in.”
They walked out together, talking about plans for the Teddington Lock. Fortunately, Foxstead would pass nowhere near Geoffrey’s carriages, so the man wouldn’t see Geoffrey joining Lady Diana. Geoffrey wasn’t certain why it bothered him to think of her being seen, except that he didn’t want tongues wagging about him and her when nothing more than an innocent kiss lay between them.
Right. Completely innocent.
Geoffrey sighed. He’d best find a way to keep from ruining her. He wasn’t entirely aware of the details, but he felt fairly certain that sitting alone with a man in a carriage was a sure way for a woman to find herself taken off the rolls of society. If not for Elegant Occasions, she’d already be banished from society completely, so he didn’t want to destroy her business as well.
He and Foxstead parted, and he went on to the carriage where Diana was awaiting her sister. As he approached and the footman leaped down from his perch, Geoffrey signaled to the man to stay where he was. Geoffrey wanted to catch Diana unawares. She seemed always to be in control and he wanted to see the real Diana.
Alas, he was doomed to be disappointed. When he peered inside the coach, she was reading what looked like a magazine, with the windows fully open. Her back was straight, not a hair was out of place, and even her skirts were unruffled.
Then she licked her finger and turned the page, and his lust for her reared its ugly head. Literally. Damn. He should leave before she saw him.
He didn’t. “You should at least close the windows. If only for safety’s sake.”
Her head whipped around, and she blushed as she shoved the journal under a shawl he’d assumed was Rosy’s. “I should think with so many footmen about and half the palace guard nearby, it would be safe.”
“I suppose,” he said. “What were you reading?”
“Oh, nothing of consequence.”
“You seemed very engrossed.” Before she could stop him, he reached through the open window to whisk the magazine out from under the shawl.
She set her lips in a prim line. “You have a bad habit of sneaking up on people and stealing their things.”
He smiled. “Not people. You. I’m still trying to figure you out.” Then he focused on the magazine. Or rather, theJournal of Civil Engineering. No wonder she blushed. He lifted his gaze to her. “Admit it. You were reading my article.”
