Chapter 18
“Allow me,” Alexander said quietly as the carriage door opened. “Let me help you down.”
Diana looked up from the folds of her skirt just as he stepped out onto the gravel before the footman could move. The lantern light from the house fell across his shoulders, catching the dark line of his coat and the loosened white of his cravat after the long evening.
He turned immediately and offered his hand.
Diana placed her gloved fingers into his palm, and when his hand closed around hers, she felt the steady strength of his grip as he guided her carefully toward the step.
His other hand came to her waist as she descended. It was a simple gesture. Proper. Necessary even, given the height of the carriage and the sweep of her gown. And yet the warmth of his palm through the silk seemed to send a shiver through her all the same.
Her slippers touched the gravel at last, and for a brief moment neither of them moved.
They stood close together beneath the lantern light, the great house rising behind them while the soft sounds of the London night settled gently around the drive.
Diana was too aware of how near he still stood.
The scent of sandalwood clung faintly to him. His hand lingered a bit longer at her waist before withdrawing, though the memory of the contact remained like a trace of warmth beneath her ribs.
She lifted her gaze to his.
“It was a lovely evening,” she said softly, smoothing one hand along the folds of her skirt as though the small gesture might steady the curious restlessness that had taken hold of her since the ball. “You managed it remarkably well.”
Alexander’s mouth curved slightly. “I had an excellent guide.”
A faint warmth touched her cheeks. “I merely told you who they were.”
“You also warned me which ones required caution.”
“That is an essential service in London society,” she replied lightly.
A quiet smile lingered between them. Standing here in the calm darkness of Rosewood House was much more intimate than the crowded ballroom had ever been.
Diana drew a slow breath.
“Well,” she said gently, glancing toward the wide steps of the house. “I should say goodnight. It has been a long evening. And a very successful one.”
Alexander inclined his head slightly. “I am glad you think so.”
“I do.”
Neither of them moved, something unsaid lingering in the air. Then Diana turned toward the house.
She had barely taken a step across the gravel when his hand closed around her wrist. “Do not say goodnight yet.”
The simple command went through her with such immediate force that she nearly stumbled.
She turned slowly and, for a heartbeat, she could not speak.
His hand was firm but not harsh, his thumb resting lightly against the inside of her wrist where her pulse had already begun to leap beneath his touch. The warmth of his skin seemed all the more shocking for the coolness of the night.
Alexander’s eyes held hers with a quiet intensity that made her breath catch.
“What for?” she asked at last, her voice softer than she intended.
Alexander’s mouth curved in that faint, private way it did when something pleased him more deeply than he wished to show the world. “I have a surprise for you.”
The answer only sharpened her awareness. A surprise.
Diana ought, perhaps, to have refused him. It was late. They had only just returned from an evening that had left her nerves strangely bright and her heart disconcertingly full. Instead, she stood there, her hand still in his, impatience growing inside her.
“What sort of surprise?” she asked.
“Will you come and see?” he smirked, and she heard the amusement in his voice.
Diana looked at Alexander and knew, with a clarity that was both thrilling and deeply alarming, that she wanted to say yes before she had even decided to.
He was watching her too closely not to know it, and that realization sent a flush through her.
“You are becoming very bold, Your Grace,” she murmured.
“Only with you.”
Something in her chest gave a soft, helpless flutter. She hated how easily he could do that now, how a few words in his low voice could reach through all the sensible layers she had built over the past year and touch something raw and unguarded beneath them.
Diana lifted her chin, aware that her pulse was still racing beneath his fingers.
“Well?” she said, because she could not bear another second of that look without either fleeing or saying something reckless. “Must I guess where you are taking me?”
He released her then, though not before his thumb gave the smallest passing stroke across the inside of her wrist, so fleeting she might have believed she imagined it if the sensation had not gone straight through her.
“No,” he said. “Though I confess I would enjoy watching you try.”
He offered her his arm, and she took it. And together, instead of mounting the front steps toward the house, they turned toward the gardens.
The path was silvered by moonlight and edged with lanterns, their soft glow guiding the way through trimmed hedges, sleeping roses, and the dark silhouettes of shrubs bowing in the light breeze.
Diana’s skirts brushed against the gravel with every step, and Alexander’s pace remained carefully matched to hers.
When the curved glass outline of the greenhouse came into view, Diana slowed.
It stood luminous against the dark, every pane catching candlelight from within until the whole structure seemed to glow like something half dreamed, half enchanted, a jewel tucked into the sleeping gardens.
Warmth already pressed faintly at the glass from the other side.
She looked at Alexander, then back at the greenhouse.
“Is this where your surprise is?”
“It is.”
She could barely contain herself from jumping inside to see what it was.
He opened the door for her, and she stepped inside.
Warmth enfolded her at once, rich with the scent of damp earth, greenery, and faintly sweet blossoms from the climbing vines trained carefully along the far wall.
The pool at the center reflected dozens of candles arranged around the room, their small flames turning the water into liquid gold and trembling light.
Near the pool, spread over the grass and tiled floor in a wide, elegant arrangement, was a supper laid out upon blankets and fine linen.
Diana stopped dead.
There was wine already breathing in a crystal decanter.
Covered dishes giving off warm, delicious scents.
Fresh fruit, delicate pastries, and the little sugared almonds she favored but rarely allowed herself.
There were the lemony greens she liked with fish, the soft cheeses she always chose first when she thought no one was paying attention, and the tiny mushroom tarts Cook only made on special request because most of the household preferred heavier fare.
The sight of it struck her more forcibly than all the glitter and music of the ballroom had. Her chest tightened so suddenly she almost mistook it for pain.
He had done this for her. Not simply arranged a supper, but remembered. The almonds. The tarts. The greens she always chose first. And suddenly the earlier gifts returned to her mind—the necklace, the ribbons, the sapphire dress—each one another quiet proof that he had been paying attention.
Alexander had been watching her face. She knew it without looking, because she could feel the weight of his attention like fire on her skin.
When at last she did turn to him, she found him standing very still, his gaze fixed on her with something quieter than triumph and far more dangerous.
“You arranged all this?”
“Yes.”
The simplicity of the answer undid her more than some elaborate declaration might have. “Why?”
“Because you deserved more than a crowded ballroom and polite waltzes,” he looked almost startled by the question. “And because I wished to have you to myself for an hour without the entire ton observing how often I look at you.”
Diana forgot to breathe.
The honesty in his voice stripped the air between them of all gentler pretenses. She could think of nothing to say that would not reveal too much.
Alexander’s expression softened.
“You are touched,” he said quietly.
“I am,” she admitted, though even that seemed inadequate for what was moving inside her.
Something warm entered his eyes then, almost relief. “Good.”
She looked back at him, still struggling to understand how a man who remembered nothing of his life could make her feel so acutely seen.
Her gaze moved again over the spread. “You remembered all this.”
“You noticed.”
“I always notice.” He crossed to the blanket and held out his hand to her. “Come. Sit with me.”
She let him help her down, her skirts pooling around her over the thick blanket while the candlelight flickered over the silk of her gown and across his face. He poured her wine first, then his own, and handed her the glass.
For a little while, they simply ate.
The dishes were exquisite, exactly as she had expected they would be, though every familiar flavor seemed sharpened by the intimacy of the setting.
The wine was rich and smooth. There was only candlelight, soft grass, warm water, and Alexander across from her with his coat discarded to one side, his posture relaxed in a way she had once believed impossible in him.
They began, almost inevitably, with the evening itself.
“You were too adequate tonight,” Diana said at last, setting down her glass and giving him a look meant to be severe but which she suspected lacked conviction. “I hope you know that.”
“I had no wish to embarrass myself.”
“You charmed people.”
He lifted one brow. “Are you accusing me of charm now?”
“I am accusing you of being entirely too capable.”
A shadow of laughter passed across his face. “A grave offense.”
Diana smiled. She could not seem to help it in his presence now, and the realization struck her with a sweetness that was only half joy and half peril.
“I was proud of you,” she said before she could stop herself.
The words hung between them, and Alexander’s expression changed.