She remembered it fondly because she had quite fallen in love with the hero, and she had often imagined herself whisked away by him, even long after reading the book. It was a story of romance and deceit and fighting for love, and Diana pictured herself in the maiden’s place, waiting for her unidentified knight to rescue her, only to find out her true knight was right beside her the whole time.
She slid it off the shelf and carried it to the gardens, where she would take some air and some rest.
And find a little peace.
She marched from the stone terrace, over the well-kept lawn and through a little copse of trees. Just at the far edge, there was a bench, the moonlight shining bright upon it, still strong despite the lanterns and candles that lit the area. She almost scampered towards it, excited to be sitting down and in her own bubble of peace.
Tucking her gown in, she sat sideways on the bench, her feet dangling off the edge as they so often did on her own bench, and she opened the book to read. It was peaceful there, the music and noise from the ballroom muted and hampered by the trees. The air was still warm despite the late hour, and her ears were filled with the sound of crickets.
As soon as she opened the first page, she fell into another world, her thoughts spiraling, and she sighed happily.
This is where I love to be.
It was at around three or four pages in, however, that she realized she was picturing the hero quite differently to how she usually did. Now, the face she saw was not that of a handsome stranger, but instead the face of the Duke of Gallonon. She growled in frustration and let the book fall to her lap.
Has he now ruined my favorite novel as well as knocking me over?
She found him positively infuriating, and her attraction to him more so. She had barely spoken to him and he had somehow wormed his way into her thoughts. She forced herself to put him out of her mind, instead imagining a golden-haired hero with blue eyes who was somewhat shorter than the well-built Duke.
It was no good, though. Her newly pictured hero just didn’t fit, and her mind wandered again and again to the Duke of Gallonon.
“Lord Gallonon, it is excellent to see you in such good health.”
Isaac turned to find the Duke of Renwald sat just behind him, and he swiveled around on his stool, glass of brandy in hand. Renwald grinned, a sprite perched upon his seat, although he looked as though he’d taken a glass or two too many. Isaac liked him, he always had, for Lord Renwald was a personable fellow with a kind heart and a willingness to chat with anyone. He had become somewhat of a mascot at these soirees—never a dancer but always there, and willing to dispense advice or humor depending on your needs.
“Renwald, good evening. And you seem very well this evening, too.”
He took a sip of his brandy, watching the Duke over the rim of his glass. His eyes sparkled in the candlelight and Isaac watched him curiously.
“You look happy with yourself. Having a good evening?” Isaac asked. He was intrigued. The Duke so rarely looked full of life.
“That’s what dancing with beautiful young ladies will get you,” the Duke said with a laugh. “I think I may have found the key to everlasting life, you know. It’s been so long that I had quite forgotten how invigorating dancing can be.”
“Indeed,” Isaac replied. “And if the lady is desirous, then all the better I’d say. Although I’ve never seen you dance.”
“Plenty of ladies here tonight I desire. ‘Tis a shame I cannot stay on my feet long enough to woo them,” the Duke said with a chuckle.
“Of that I have no doubt, Renwald. You are lecherous old goat at times.”
“There’s no other way to be, lad,” Renwald said. “They are not so beautiful for no reason. It is their lot to desirous. And are you enjoying yourself?”
Isaac’s eyes darkened, a flash of something fierce running through them. How could he have a good time when he had a job to do? He was not here to enjoy himself, he was here to do something very important. He needed to find Lady Celine again, to begin his wooing in earnest, but he wasn’t sure he could face her again.
He had no doubt that her nervous chatter would calm somewhat if he made an effort to converse with her properly, but he found he did not have the energy to even try, not at that moment, anyhow. What he really wanted to do was to find that enigmatic Lady Diana again, to listen to the lilt in her voice and watch the perfect features of her face displaying her emotions so clearly and openly.
“It’s all right, I suppose,” Isaac said, unable to hide his true feelings from Renwald. The Duke looked at him knowingly, his eyes urging him to reveal all. “It does sometimes feel like it is the same party on repeat, don’t you think? And there are so many people here this evening.”
“There always are at these sorts of things, isn’t there? Nothing like a ball to get everyone out of their doldrums. The men want to see the newest beauty on offer, while the ladies are out for the gossip.”
“That’s rather a pessimistic view of things, Lord Renwald,” Isaac said, genuinely surprised. He had always thought that, but he didn’t realize others did too.
“Are you telling me I’m wrong?” the Duke asked. He laughed loudly, and Isaac couldn’t help but chuckle along. “And it doesn’t stop me from enjoying myself, shallow as everyone may be.”
“No,” Isaac said. “I don’t suppose I am telling you you’re wrong, but not everyone is like that. There are some good souls here. Aren’t there?”
“I’m sure,” Lord Renwald replied. “And if nothing else, there is brandy.” He held his glass up as though in toast, and Isaac returned the gesture before throwing back the dregs from his glass.
“Good brandy at that.”
They lapsed into a companionable silence, and Isaac looked out at the dancers, so gleeful in their movement and their chatter. He marveled at how carefree they were, at how easily they smiled. He had never been able to do so, not since the day his father had died.
“Lord Gallonon, if I could give you one word of advice, it would be to let go of your old hurts. Revenge is one thing, but you cannot let it eat away at you until that is all you think of.”
“Revenge?” Isaac blushed, although in annoyance or confusion he could not be sure. How did he know that was what I thought of? “What are you talking about?”
“You and that brother of yours,” Renwald said, scowling at the mention of Thomas. “You never did recover from your Father’s terrible demise, did you?” He shrugged, calm and collected, and he eyed Isaac.
“We’re doing quite well enough, thank you,” Isaac said, not allowing his gaze to match Renwald’s He cleared his throat. “Father’s death was tragic, but it was also many years ago. Thomas and I have quite another life now.”
“Tell me then, Lord Gallonon, why are you yet to take a wife? For that matter, why aren’t you even dancing, as others of your age do?”
“I have been dancing,” Isaac said, a little affronted and his brow furrowed. Lord Renwald had a habit of getting to the crux of a matter without even realizing it. “But can a man not take rest when he needs it?”
“Of course, My Boy,” Lord Renwald replied with a laugh and a slap of his knee. He had returned now to his light humor, his serious expression gone but lurking beneath the surface of his jollity. “But don’t rest too long, not if you want to find yourself a wife. Otherwise you’ll find yourself raggedy and old and alone, like me.”
“You’re not such a bad role model to follow,” Isaac said with a laugh, pleased the conversation had moved on from talk of his father.
“So tell me, Lord Gallonon. Has anyone taken your fancy this evening? There are certainly plenty of beauties to choose from.”
Isaac’s thoughts immediately went to Lady Diana, but he pushed her image away and replaced it with one of Lady Celine.
“I rather have eyes for Lady Celine,” Isaac said, trying sound as casual—and as genuine—as he could. It would not do for others to see his reticence at wooing the young woman.
“Lady Celine, ey?” Lord Renwald said with an approving nod. “She certainly is beautiful, and quite a charmer too, from what I could get from our short conversation.”
“Yes,” Isaac replied, “she certainly is.”
“But you should be so lucky.”
Isaac turned sharply to Renwald, who looked at him with raised eyebrows.
“What do you mean, I should be so lucky? Do you not think I would make a good match for her?” Isaac felt the panic pulsate within him. Thomas would be angry if he did not succeed in getting Lady Celine’s love.
“I have no doubt you would be a good match for her, My Boy,” the Duke replied kindly. “But you are not the only one with eyes for Lady Celine, and I rather suspect she has the pick of the bunch. If you really want to pursue her, I suggest you do not waste any time.”
Isaac felt his gut twist. If he did not win her over, their plan would be a failure and he couldn’t allow that to happen. He wouldn’t allow himself to let down the family name. If only he had not been so caught up in thoughts of Lady Diana, he would have progressed by now.
“I dare say you are right,” Isaac replied. “I think I shall go in search of her now. Thank you for your advice, Lord Renwald.”
Isaac stood and bowed to the Duke.
“You are quite welcome, My Boy. Good luck—I fear you will need it!”
Isaac wandered from the refreshment area and although he suspected Lady Celine would be dancing still, he convinced himself that the garden was the best place to first look. He needed, if nothing else, a breath of air and if he told himself she might be there, he did not feel so guilty for not whole-heartedly following the plan.
The gardens were spectacular, especially in candlelight. Despite the dark, the flowerbeds popped with color and shapes: daffodils and peonies, hollyhocks and wisteria. They stretched on for acres, winding around the lawns and more, each section its own celebration of life and summertime.
Isaac adored it. The castle was well-known for its gardens, the head gardener renowned for his talent in a way servants so very rarely were. He meandered down the path, the gravel crunching beneath his feet, and into the small copse ahead, letting his mind wander over all that had happened that evening.
Renwald was right. He needed to be at the forefront if he was to win over Lady Celine, and yet he could not quite force himself to do so.
Soon, he told himself, as though soon was enough, but in truth, all he could think of was Lady Diana. And then, as though leaping from his mind, Lady Diana was there, a mirage on the bench in front of him.
He took a step back into the copse, panic overcoming him and he hid himself in the trees. He willed his heart to be still. It beat so hard he was positive even she could hear it, and he closed his eyes to calm himself, to slow his breathing.
He peered at her through the gaps in the trees, so peaceful on her own, her eyes following the words on the page. She looked even more beautiful that she had in the ballroom, her mind in another world and a look of complete calm and happiness settling over her face.
What is she doing here?
And she was alone, too. He felt a panic rise in him. She could not be there alone, without a chaperone. It wasn’t right. It made him nervous, especially with the inappropriate thoughts he was having, thoughts of her lips upon his, of touching her in ways he had never touched anyone. She was incredibly beautiful, after all. It would be difficult for any gentleman to resist the temptations on offer.
Except he was stronger than that. He forced the lustful thoughts from his mind and focused on preparing himself to talk to her instead.
He took a step forward, unsure what to do, but a twig snapped beneath his foot and she turned around in fear.
“Who’s there?” she called.
Goodness, she is even beautiful in fear.
He stepped out from the trees, showing himself completely, an apologetic look on his face.
“I’m sorry for disturbing you, once again, Lady Diana.”
She looked infuriated, breathing heavily through her nose and her eyes glaring at him.
“You should be more careful when you sneak up on a lady, Your Grace,” she said, her voice taut with annoyance. “There is always a chance she knows how to fight.”
Chapter 9
“And do you?” he asked, looking at her with bemused amusement.
“Do I what?”
She was annoyed that he had dared interrupt her, and yet curiously, she wanted him to stay. Just being near him made her tense with anticipation and it was a sensation she couldn’t deny enjoying, even if she didn’t understand it.
“Know how to fight?”
“Perhaps I do,” she said, trying not to smile, “or perhaps I don’t. If you are not more careful in the future, perhaps you shall find out.”
Her heart thundered in her chest and her breath stopped as she watched him, his expression teasing, his eyes searching. He approached her just as the hero of her book declared his love for the maiden and although Diana had been imagining the Duke’s face in place of the hero’s, she had not been expecting him to pop up in front of her.
And looking so handsome, too.
He smiled, broad and amused, and he took a step closer, braver now. Her mouth hung open in anticipation of his words, of their conversation to come.
“And what is so funny?” she demanded, feigning irritation so he didn’t think it so easy to win her over.
Even if it is.
“Nothing, I…” he faltered, his words concerned, then he looked directly at her. “You are like no other lady I have ever met.”
“And that is funny, why?” She tried to scowl at him, but she could feel the corners of her lips turn up, almost without her wishing it.
“May I join you?” he asked, pointing to where her legs were spread across the bench. She looked at them for a moment, considering his request with her lips twisted, then swung them around to the front of the bench to give him space.
“You may,” she said, her voice austere but her eyes sparkling with all that may be ahead of them.
She watched as he walked around, his strides wide and his body moving with such grace, such style. He looked so perfectly turned out, fashionable and yet with such comfort and sophistication. She watched the way his legs moved, the muscles in his buttocks contracting in his tight trousers. She gasped at her own brazenness and quickly looked away, but she could not get the image from her head.
Her lips fell open, just a touch, and she expelled her breath all at once. To watch him made her feel hot all over, the sensation prickling all over her skin. She blinked, surprised and unused to such a feeling, and she cleared her throat, forcing herself to stop thinking in such an improper manner.
“I do not find you funny, as such,” he said once he was seated. “But there is something about you that…I don’t know, it’s hard to put into words. I’ve never before met a lady who can so draw me. I hardly know you and already, you fascinate me.”
Please, please, don’t let my cheeks be flushed.
“Well,” she said, not quite sure where to look for fear of courting danger and a new prickling heat. To look at his face would leave her catching her breath, and to look at his body was to think of those parts a lady should not consider. Yet to look at the ground or anywhere else would be rude. Instead, she let her eyes rove all over this place, and this made him smile even more. She cleared her throat and tried again.
“Well, that’s very sweet of you indeed.”
“I don’t mean it to be sweet, My Lady,” he said, “Only to be the truth. But I’m glad you find it so.”
The pause after that was an awkward one, neither quite sure what to say. Diana fiddled with the ribbon that stuck from the bottom of the book, and she chewed on her bottom lip, her mind racing for some sort of topic of conversation. When she finally thought of something to say, he began to speak at the very same time. They laughed, looking into each other’s eyes and sharing their amusement.
“Please, you f
irst,” he said, looking down, embarrassed.
“I was only going to ask why you are in the gardens. Surely you can find someone to dance with?”
“Yes of course,” he said, a little too quickly. “But I felt I needed a little air. To clear my mind. And the gardens here, they’re simply sublime, don’t you think?”
“That is certainly true,” she said, and as he looked at the flora around them, she could not stop staring at his face.
The gardens were indeed sublime, but so was he. She marveled at the proportion of him, each part of his face just the right size for the rest. His beard, so neatly trimmed, gave him a distinguished air, and he seemed so perfectly groomed.
Games of Desire for Lady Hellion: A Steamy Historical Regency Romance Novel Page 7