Chapter Three
Trentmore House
St. James’s Place
Mayfair, London
Why the devil do I continue coming to these events?
Once more, Nathaniel was cooling his heels at yet another rout in Mayfair. While he’d chatted with friends and exchanged greetings with a few acquaintances, there was absolutely nothing to hold his interest.
Of course, there’d been delightful discussions on issues of the day, and he usually adored joining in a spirited debate, but for whatever reason, he suffered heavily from ennui. Nothing seemed to spark enthusiasm in him, and he couldn’t quite put a finger on it.
To be fair, things would have been better if his best friend had come with him, but since William wished to hover about his parents’ home for obvious reasons, Nathaniel was on his own.
If he were a decent sort, he’d attend to the duties of his title and make inroads into charming his way through the petticoat line, especially since more than a few ladies were casting calf-eyed gazes at him.
However, the thought of hooking the notice of an innocent—cheeky or otherwise—left him with a bad taste in his mouth after what had occurred three nights ago.
With the shake of his head, he slowly left the drawing room in pursuit of something more erudite or exciting. Hopefully, either could be found within the townhouse; otherwise, he’d simply remove to his own to save him from being killed by dullness.
Humming a rambling bit of a tuneless song, Nathaniel made his way down to the lower level.
Though there were a few people meandering the corridor outside the library, he hoped they didn’t wish to linger in the room itself, for he wasn’t in the mood to be social.
Which was quite odd because usually he worked the room as if he were a politician.
Tonight, though, he couldn’t summon enough wherewithal for all that.
What is wrong with me?
Perhaps too many things pressed in upon him right now, so when he stepped into the library, the atmosphere inside was quite pleasant as he let himself accustom to the quiet and the dimly lit interior.
It was a rainy night outside, and someone had pushed one of the windows slightly open to admit the unique scent of petrichor.
God, that was one of the best fragrances, and one of the most underrated.
A handful of candles were lit about the room, but the illumination was such that they left shadows clinging to the ceiling and into the corners, leaving behind the mysterious feel from the rain outside.
When he came further into the room, he frowned as his gaze fell onto a woman who occupied one of the leather wingback chairs. She had a book in her hand, and she held it fairly close to her face, perhaps because she might not be able to read words close without reading spectacles.
Was she vain or had she merely forgotten to bring them, not figuring she’d need them during a society event?
Interesting, that. Then an elusive combination of scents teased his nose—rose, perhaps a splash of citrus, and a hint of something sweet like vanilla but not quite that.
It drew him toward the woman in an effort to identify the notes.
Threads of silver glimmered in her black hair in the low light, and those tresses had been arranged in a simple chignon with the curls twisted and gathered behind her head by a duo of crushed-diamond-encrusted combs.
“I beg your pardon. I don’t wish to disturb your reading enjoyment, but I find your perfume quite alluring.” At least it wasn’t a lie.
“Oh, thank you.” When the lady glanced up at him, he was immediately taken aback by the dark sapphire pools of her eyes; he’d seen them before. Of course he had, for they were the same as his best friend, William.
Shit!
Was this his older sister? “Never say you’re Lady Diana Sammerson?”
A pleased smile curved her lips that were neither thin nor full. “Well, I was once upon a time. I’m Lady Diana Woodbine currently, or the Dowager Lady Atterbury, if you’d rather.”
He snorted. “No one who is as lovely as you should ever be referred to as dowager.” Flirting came as natural to him as breathing.
“Ha. Thank you for that.” Then her eyes widened as she took in his face, moved her gaze up and down his person. “Lord Holdcraft, Nathaniel Grossbeck?”
“In the flesh.”
“Good heavens, it’s been an age since I’ve seen you!” Genuine pleasure infused her tone.
Though it was difficult to study the whole of her form due to her sitting in that leather chair, her gown of raspberry silk was the exact shade to bring life to her pale skin.
The color put him in mind of spring flowers, and paired with the enticing scent, he could easily envision her walking in gardens somewhere, bending to smell a spring bloom.
And with the teasing band of thin lace around the low, rounded bodice as well as the bottom of the short, puffed sleeves, she was everything feminine and delicate.
What sort of a woman had she grown into? And was she the same woman now that she’d been when she’d married Atterbury?
“Indeed.” How serendipitous. She was just the thing he needed to bring interest back to the evening. Excitement buzzed at the base of his spine. “It is good to see you again. I’d no idea you had returned to London, but William said he expected you soon.”
“That is quite true.” A bit of sadness shadowed her eyes.
“I did, indeed, come in anticipation of my father’s impending death.
Unfortunately, Papa is clinging to this mortal coil, but we expect him to let go at any time.
It is merely a matter of waiting.” She had a much more descriptive way of saying that than William had.
“You have my condolences all the same. I remember your father as a man who loved the out of doors, and he embraced his role of earl with joy.” That was something he’d envied about her father.
“Sometimes it is hell growing older. For many reasons, but one of the worst is the fact we begin to lose the people that we love.”
She nodded. “It rather is.”
“Oh, and belated condolences for the loss of your husband.”
“There is no need.” The lady waved away his comment. “As we grow older, we also lose those we didn’t really love at all as well.”
Yes, clearly, she was a different woman. Another tidbit of interest that he tucked away to comment upon at a later date. “I see.” Oddly, wanting to prolong the unexpected meeting, he asked gestured to the book she still held. “What are you reading this evening?”
“Poetry from Burns. There is something about it I adore.” When she met his gaze again, her eyes twinkled in the dim illumination.
“There is so much imagery involved, so much hope and struggle, when he talks about the overcoming of such or even love…” She shook her head.
“I’ll admit, my heart gives a little flutter. ”
How charming. “That’s what I think as well, with the exception of the fluttering heart.” Daring much, he gave her a wink. “Poetry is something of a hobby of mine.” How easy it was to converse with her. Was that due to the fact he’d known her long ago or a testament to the woman herself?
Surprise entered her expression. “Do you write it? I never heard my brother say that about you.”
An unexpected chuckle pulled from his throat. “I do not. It seems I haven’t either the courage to set pen to paper or a compelling enough subject. So I spend my time reading others’ work, and have been quite happy to do so.”
Though seeing Diana again was a good start. Perhaps an ode to her lips was in order.
“I understand that. As much as I might wish to try my hand at writing poetry—or even prose—I wouldn’t know where to start.
” The way she moved her hands, the fact that she had a habit of tilting her head ever so slightly to the side when she talked, the intentional inflections of her voice, how deep blue her eyes were all worked to prove captivating.
“It is difficult, this wavering on the edge and not knowing what to do, but I’m hoping I’ll find a subject to inspire me more sooner rather than later.”
The lady nodded even as she frowned, and he couldn’t stop himself from dropping his gaze to her mouth. “What are you doing down here? I assume you are a guest for the rout. Why aren’t you mingling? Especially since popular gossip holds that you always have a new woman on your arm each week.”
One of his eyebrows rose. “Why aren’t you?”
“Touché.” Lady Diana allowed a slight smile, and he wished it were full so he could see the whole effect.
“As much as I want to reenter society and perhaps put myself back into circulation, I found I wasn’t prepared for the noise or the crowds.
Or even how the younger set act much differently than I did at their age.
” A string of laughter escaped her throat, and it was just as captivating as the rest of her.
“I fear it will take a few outings to acclimate myself to the changes society has seen since I was last mired in it.”
“That is a good observation, though. The young ladies these days border on bold and fast. They’d rather leave nothing to the imagination.” However, this lady was far too fascinating to merely leave her in peace. “Do you mind company?”
“Of course not. We can catch up. There are twenty plus years since we’ve seen each other, and much has happened within those years, I’ll wager.”
“Indeed, and in your case, it seems as if those years has made you into a mysterious widow with stories to tell.” With a nodcock idea in his head, Nathaniel strode to the door and softly closed it, making certain he locked it before joining her at the grouping of furniture.
“And in my case, I’m afraid the time has passed, and it hasn’t made me any better than I’ve ever been. ”
What a sad commentary on my life.