A Virgin for the Rakish Marquess (In War and Love #3)

Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

Fair Market Value

D iana was ready to leave the charity event altogether by using the great excuse of every lady of the ton—the headache that was met with fake sympathy and no further questions. But then she spotted Elizabeth, and some of her bitterness ebbed.

Elizabeth had a light about her. She was a force of nature, and Diana was happy that she was part of her life. So, the event became much more bearable as they talked and gossiped.

“I wonder where Stephen went,” Elizabeth said merrily.

“Weren’t you together just now?” Diana pointed out. “Anyway, since you are on the lookout for my family, make sure we steer clear of Herbert and Selina.”

Elizabeth chuckled and patted the arm Diana had linked with hers.

They were standing near the refreshments table, since both prudently decided that this event could not and should not be suffered with an empty stomach.

“That bad, dear?” Elizabeth asked her.

“My siblings are atrocious tonight,” Diana huffed.

Elizabeth arched an eyebrow.

“Except for Stephen,” Diana hastened to add.

“Better.” Elizabeth nodded.

“I haven’t had the chance to talk to him, after all. I am sure that exception would be quickly overturned should that happen. Anyway, for now, Selina and Herbert are the vicious ones.”

“Yes, well, I imagine that is hardly news to you.”

Diana bit into her game paté and toasted bread as if they had offended her.

Oh, this is so good.

Horrible or not, Selina had a fine taste, and everyone in the ton envied her, since she had managed to snatch the best cook in the whole of London.

And let’s not forget the pastry chef.

Diana made a mental note to step toward the pastry stand later and fill a cute porcelain plate with the famed chocolate custard tart.

“I am telling you,” she said, not ready to allow savory treats to distract her from the menace Selina could be. “I am sure that they are up to something. Plotting behind my back, snickering and whispering.”

Elizabeth studied her with that sharp look that left nothing hidden. Diana swallowed and cowered under that soul-drilling look.

“That is basically their default disposition, Diana. Are you sure you are mad at them and not something else?”

Could it hurt anyone in the family to be more ignorant?

Of course, Herbert and Selina were the bane of her existence, but her foul mood was caused by something else entirely.

No, not something. Someone.

The main reason Diana was stuffing her mouth, the main reason behind her exhaustion, was none other than him . It took all her will to power the sheer effort of pointedly ignoring him.

Not because he hovered near her—he did not. Not because he sought her out—he hadn’t. Not because he acknowledged her existence after their exchange earlier—because, blast it all, he had not done that either.

Diana knew deep in her soul that she should have been glad that his teasing was just that, a teasing and nothing more. She had no interest in being tangled in dangerous games with a rogue. She should have been thrilled that not even once did his gaze turn to her.

Now, she had to convince her mind that this was all a good thing. She had to warn the part of her that was trapped—even if for a brief second—off that treacherous heat between them. She had to caution the bits of her that were snared by the rasp of his voice and the devilish smirk that darkened his blue eyes.

So, what if he was acting as though their exchange was nothing more than an amusing sidenote of his evening? Such was the way of a rake. His attention fleeting. Flaring one moment and disappearing the next.

“There is something else you are not telling me!” Elizabeth was quick to read her face and thoughts.

Diana summoned the spirit of her governess and schooled her expression to that impassive politeness. But Elizabeth narrowed her eyes at her in a way that said, “Nice try.”

There was no chance under the gracious sky that Diana would utter to another breathing soul what had transpired in the book section of the auction. Still, her eyes drifted to the table that was part of her trap for a few seconds. The other being his unbelievably tall body.

Diana! Get a hold of yourself!

Lucky for her, at that moment, she saw movement behind Elizabeth.

“Oh, look!” Diana blurted. “The auction is starting.”

She could care less for the auction, but when one saw straws, one ought to grab at them.

Elizabeth turned with interest and grabbed her by the arm to pull her to the ballroom.

But the chocolate custard tart …

Still, Diana thought that no amount of chocolate would be enough to risk resuming their conversation, so she followed reluctantly.

The master of ceremonies stepped up on a small dais and started the bidding on some tea set, and Diana lost all interest.

One after the other, the items were auctioned off, and the evening became an endless chain of number counting, thrilled voices, clapping— lots of clapping—and enthusiastic ladies and lords stepping on the dais to be thanked and to enjoy their moment. Most of the items were sold as the evening progressed.

Diana was ready to quietly slip away from Elizabeth’s side and enjoy the empty-of-people and filled-with-desserts drawing room when she saw Selina step onto the dais. Propriety demanded that she stay and clap as her sister gestured to the crowd to calm down so she could talk. So, she gritted her teeth, forced a smile, and stayed put.

“Ladies and gentlemen.” Selina’s voice echoed through the room. “Thank you so much for your contributions, which will be given to a good cause. Now, before we conclude this evening, there is one last item up for auction.”

A slight hum rippled through the guests. There was no mention of another item in the printed program. Diana felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. Then, cold sweat ran down her spine when Selina’s eyes found her in the crowd.

No, no, no.

Selina smiled. To everyone else, that was a poised, beaming smile worthy of a lady of her standing. But Diana was not everyone else. She knew that sly smile. Whatever came out of Selina’s mouth next was not going to be anything good.

“I present to you,” Selina announced with unrestrained glee, “five promenades with none other than our jilted wallflower, Lady Diana!”

Diana froze. Her pulse quickened, and her cheeks flushed. Her eyes were trained on Selina, who had the gall to keep smiling. Her breath caught, and she wished she could faint at whim, like most ladies of the ton. But all she could do was keep still in the sea of silence.

A silence that quickly turned into gasps and then became a tidal wave of murmurs as all eyes swiveled toward her. Diana was pinned beneath their scrutiny, her heart slamming against her ribs.

This can’t be!

Not even in the novels that Selina so avidly read was there a world where this had truly happened. Her sister didn’t just publicly auction her off like an unwanted parlor ornament. Without her consent! Still, Selina’s delighted expression, mirrored by Herbert’s smirk, said otherwise.

Diana opened her mouth, then closed it, then opened it again, but no sound came. What was she supposed to say when her own sister betrayed her like that?

For the third time that evening, she looked for straws to grab at—an act that became tiresome.

She turned to Elizabeth, seeking help.

Elizabeth looked appropriately horrified. “Oh dear,” she murmured.

“ Oh dear? ” Diana repeated, her voice strangled. “That is all you have to say?”

“What else am I supposed to say?” Elizabeth asked, her words partially drowned out by a sad, reluctant round of applause.

“I don’t know,” Diana sputtered. “Perhaps remind me of the fact that sororicide is a crime. Though, I am sure I can make my case before the court.”

“Well…” Elizabeth smiled. “You can plan that after the bidding is over.”

Diana refused to shift her gaze to the dais. One reason was the very realistic fear that she would run up there and strangle her sister. The second was to be spared the embarrassment.

Indubitably, no one would bid. No gentleman of good standing would wish to parade about town with her once, let alone five times. Herbert and Stephen and, of course, Richard would have to bid to save her from the humiliation. She hoped Herbert would win so she could push him into the lake at St. James Park.

All thoughts of dessert were pushed to the back, and all that remained was the wish that the pot of custard was there so she could throw herself into it and die in chocolate heaven.

Alas, she had to stay there and endure the proceedings. She shut herself out of the process, deciding that if she wished it hard enough, the whole thing would just go away. She heard voices, loud gasps, and the light tone of her sister, but she refused to let anything register. She didn’t want to hear the whispers and the pity mixed with cruelty.

How could Selina do this to me?

“Calm down,” Elizabeth muttered with a fake smile.

“This is me being calm, given the circumstances,” Diana hissed.

“Now, now,” Elizabeth warned. “It is almost over.”

“Almost?” Diana despaired.

“Oh.” Elizabeth’s eyes widened.

“What? I thought you were supposed to be quite eloquent. Please clarify that oh immediately.”

But Elizabeth didn’t get the chance to explain herself further, for Selina announced loudly, “Congratulations, Lord Crawford!”

No.

Diana could hear her heart beat in her ears, and she was fairly certain that it would soon burst out of her chest and flop onto the polished floor.

“Diana.” Elizabeth squeezed her hand.

This can’t be happening.

Diana forced herself to remember her status and not cause a scene. And by scene, she meant running out of the ballroom, out of the Seymour estate, out of London, and out of the country if need be. Instead, she collected the tattered remnants of her sanity and looked up.

Yes, running out of the country sounds like a marvelous idea!

Because the moment she tore her gaze away from her shoes, on which she had been focused during the auction, she was met with his eyes.

The Marquess approached her, the crowd parting for him like the Red Sea. And why wouldn’t they? He looked like a feral beast even in his refined attire and the controlled way he carried himself.

As he stalked toward her, her breathing quickened. The air between them thickened, charged with something dangerous. His eyes were locked onto hers, and she felt herself burning under that scorching look. Burning with anger and that other thing that was too scandalous to even think about.

Still, all of this is a game for him.

Diana made sure to feed the fire of anger. He had purposely avoided her, and now that her troublemaker of a sister gave him the opportunity to torture her on a silver platter, he gladly took it.

By the time he stopped before her, Diana was glad that her anger was stoked enough to suppress all other emotions.

She raised her chin first because she had to. The man was extremely tall, after all. And she wanted to show him her defiance. His games were not appreciated.

“My Lady,” he said with a taunting smirk.

“Congratulations, Lord Crawford,” Diana drawled. Then, she added in a lower voice meant only for his ears, “You will regret this.”

The look in his eyes lost all mirth and turned predatory. Diana’s resolve faltered. Never before had anyone looked at her like that. It was as if… as if he was ready to devour her. And with dread, she realized that she didn’t mind being devoured.

His sarcastic chuckle brought her back to her senses. She was ready to say something clever, a witty remark, a polite goodnight, anything that would get him to step away from her, but he was faster.

He took her hand, slow and deliberate, and lifted it to his lips. At first, his breath made the hairs on her arm stand up as if to meet his lips. But then he did not simply brush a kiss over her knuckles. His lips lingered, warm and firm, pressing into her skin harder than propriety dictated, long enough to make her pulse spike.

“I did warn you, My Lady,” he purred darkly. “You should have been more careful to not get caught by a man like me.”

Diana lost all coherent thought. She racked the drawers of her wit to find something, anything to say, but it was futile. All her being was currently taken up by a warmth pooling in the pit of her stomach.

Five promenades with him?

She blinked, trying to process it, and then realized, with growing dread, that she wasn’t sure if she should laugh or run.