Chapter 10
“Good heavens, child, you look as though you have been sentenced to the gallows rather than invited to breakfast.”
Diana froze halfway down the last step.
Lady Salford sat at the breakfast table like a small but determined general commanding her post, a silver teapot in one hand and a plate of toast in the other. Her bright eyes immediately fixed upon Diana with unmistakable amusement.
Diana forced a polite smile as she approached the table. “Good morning, Lady Salford.”
“Grandmother,” the older woman corrected immediately. “You are my granddaughter, and I refuse to be addressed like a distant acquaintance.”
Diana hesitated for a brief moment before sitting. “Good morning… Grandmother.”
Lady Salford beamed at her with such bright approval that Diana had the strange sensation of having accomplished something far greater than merely addressing her correctly. For a fleeting moment, Diana felt almost as though Lady Salford had presented her with a medal rather than a simple greeting.
“There,” Lady Salford said with satisfaction. “Much better.”
Diana lowered herself into the chair and reached for the teacup waiting beside her plate, curling her fingers around the warm porcelain in the quiet hope that the heat might steady the restless flutter that had taken hold somewhere in her chest. It had been there since the previous night—a strange, unsettled awareness that refused to quiet itself no matter how firmly she tried to focus on other things.
It was impossible to pretend she did not know the cause.
She could still feel the warmth of Alexander’s mouth against hers, the firm pressure of his lips, the low intimacy of his voice as he leaned over her in the library with nowhere for her to retreat.
Tell me how you would prefer your husband to behave.
The recollection struck her with such force that Diana nearly dropped the teacup.
She managed to catch it before it slipped from her fingers, though the porcelain rattled faintly against the saucer. Clearing her throat quickly, she lifted the cup and took a careful sip of tea, hoping the simple action might conceal the sudden rush of warmth climbing into her cheeks.
Across the table, Lady Salford was watching her with unmistakable interest, her sharp eyes gleaming with the unmistakable curiosity of someone who missed very little.
“Has my grandson already ruined your morning before even appearing?” she asked.
Diana’s breath caught. “No!” The answer came too quickly.
Lady Salford’s eyes narrowed slightly in delighted suspicion. “Oh my.”
Diana looked down at her plate, determined to focus on the harmless slice of bread before her rather than the dangerous memory of Alexander in the library.
“Alexander is occupied this morning,” Lady Salford continued cheerfully. “He informed me he has some business meeting with the estate manager.”
Diana nodded faintly. “Yes. Mr. Cartwright.”
“Exactly so.” Lady Salford poured more tea into her own cup. “Which leaves us with a perfectly pleasant morning to ourselves.”
Diana stiffened slightly. “Oh, I would not wish to impose on your time—”
“Nonsense.” The older woman waved a dismissive hand. “It is a beautiful day. The sun is shining. The streets will be lively.” Her eyes sparkled. “We are going out.”
Diana blinked, certain she must have misheard.
“Out?” she repeated.
Lady Salford regarded her as though the answer was perfectly obvious. “Into London, of course.”
Diana hesitated, her fingers tightening slightly around the handle of her teacup as the suggestion settled in her mind.
Under normal circumstances, she would have welcomed such an outing without a moment’s hesitation. She had always enjoyed walking the lively streets of London, pausing before shop windows, listening to the hum of voices and carriage wheels.
And yet the thought of leaving the house today stirred an unexpected unease within her.
Alexander was somewhere in the house.
Diana lowered her gaze quickly to her plate, determined not to betray the sudden rush of heat rising along her neck.
She had spent the better part of the night reminding herself that the man who had looked at her that way was not truly the husband she had married. That once his memory returned, the cold and distant Duke who had abandoned her on their wedding day would return as well.
And yet the problem was not merely that Alexander had changed. The far more troubling truth was that she had changed as well.
She was no longer certain she trusted herself to stand in the same room with him without revealing something she had spent the past year carefully burying beneath stubborn pride and wounded dignity.
The way her heart had responded to him in the library, the way her breath had faltered beneath his touch, had shaken the fragile control she had built around her feelings.
The thought of leaving while he remained in the house stirred a resistance she did not care to examine too closely. She did not know whether she dreaded seeing him again or dreaded the possibility of not seeing him at all.
“I fear I may have several duties here,” she said politely.
Lady Salford stared at her. “Duties?”
“Yes.”
“What duties?”
Diana opened her mouth, intending to offer some polite explanation that might allow her to decline without appearing rude, but she did not manage to speak a single word before Lady Salford leaned forward across the table.
“You are inventing excuses,” the older woman declared.
Heat rushed to Diana’s cheeks. “I am not—”
The older woman clapped her hands suddenly. “Excellent. That means you truly need to go out.”
Diana stared at her. “Grandmother—”
“No arguments. I have lived sixty-five years and survived three physicians telling me I ought to rest quietly at home. I refuse to begin obeying them now.”
She stood decisively. “Finish your tea. We leave in twenty minutes.”
Somehow, twenty minutes later, Diana found herself stepping into the bright London sunlight beside a very triumphant Lady Salford.
The street bustled with the pleasant chaos of a lively morning.
Carriages rolled past in steady rhythm, their wheels rattling against the stones while well-dressed ladies drifted between the shopfronts like bright flowers blowing in a garden.
Gentlemen lingered outside cafés, merchants called out cheerful greetings, and somewhere nearby a violinist played a lively tune that floated through the warm air.
Diana inhaled slowly as they stepped out onto the street, the fresh air filling her lungs in a way that felt unexpectedly cleansing after the quiet tension of the morning.
The sunlight rested warmly against her face, soft and golden, and for a moment she closed her eyes, allowing the simple sensation to anchor her in the present.
To her surprise, the tight knot that had lingered in her stomach since breakfast began to loosen little by little.
The bright liveliness of the street, the murmur of passing conversations, the rhythmic clatter of carriage wheels against the paving stones all carried a familiar energy that felt oddly comforting.
Diana found herself grateful for the distraction.
Lady Salford slipped her arm through Diana’s with casual familiarity.
“Now then,” she declared brightly, her eyes scanning the street with eager interest. “Let us see what mischief we can find.”
They had barely taken ten steps before the older woman stopped so abruptly that Diana nearly walked straight into her.
“Oh!”
Diana caught herself just in time, blinking in confusion. “What is it?”
Lady Salford raised one hand dramatically, pointing toward a shop window across the pavement as though she had just discovered a hidden treasure.
“Look at that dress.”
Diana followed the direction of her finger.
Behind the polished glass of the display window stood a mannequin dressed in a gown of pale blue muslin, the fabric so soft and airy that it seemed almost to float in the sunlight streaming through the glass.
Delicate white lace traced the neckline and sleeves with graceful precision, while the skirt fell in gentle folds that suggested movement even in stillness.
It was simple. Elegant.
Lady Salford let out a delighted gasp beside her. “Diana, you must try it on.”
Diana laughed nervously, shaking her head as she glanced toward the shop door. “I cannot simply walk in and—”
“Nonsense.”
Lady Salford had already turned and was marching toward the entrance with determined enthusiasm. Diana hurried after her before the woman could disappear inside alone.
The small bell above the door chimed softly as they stepped into the shop.
The air within carried the pleasant scent of lavender and fresh fabric, and the quiet rustle of folded muslin and silk filled the room like the soft whisper of distant conversation.
Bolts of cloth lined the shelves in careful rows, their colors blending together like a painter’s palette, while neatly arranged gowns hung along the walls waiting to be admired.
A young shop assistant curtsied politely. “How may I assist you, ladies?”
Lady Salford gestured grandly toward the window. “That dress.”
The assistant brightened. “An excellent choice.”
Before Diana could gather enough composure to object again, the shop assistant had already taken the gown from the display and placed it carefully into her hands while guiding her toward a small, curtained alcove at the back of the shop.
Lady Salford stood nearby watching the entire process with unmistakable satisfaction.
Diana stepped behind the curtain with a quiet sigh, the soft blue fabric draped over her arm.
For a moment, she simply stood there, studying the gown in her hands.
The muslin was lighter than she had expected, the delicate lace along the neckline finely worked in a way that suggested subtle elegance.
It was beautiful. Diana could not deny the small flicker of curiosity that stirred within her at the thought of wearing it.