She was everything he had hoped for. Not only was she beautiful with her vibrant green eyes and her barely tamed mane, but also her wit was infectious, and her smile artless. Heaven help him if she should laugh.
It would be deep, it would be unrestrained, it would be the undoing to all of his self-control.
He needed to back away, to release her hand and behave like a gentleman.
"Miss Dianna." He spoke softly, his eyes never leaving the sensual curve of her lips.
"Lord Southridge," she replied, but her lips tipped up slightly as if concealing some mysterious pleasure.
It was intoxicatingly seductive.
Without a thought, his lips began to bend upward, even as he tried to stifle the smile.
"I believe you're finding some secret amusement at my expense, Miss Dianna," he teased thankful to be distracted from the more passionate endeavors in which his mind had previously engaged.
"Never," she scoffed, with her chin defiantly lifted, a wicked gleam in her eye, and a teasing grin.
"I find that hard to believe."
"You're an astute man."
"Indeed I am. I'm pleased you agree."
"Ah! I'm not to agree with you, if you'll remember. If I do then you're likely to meet your maker by throwing yourself off the balcony." She nodded towards the balcony rail.
"I did mention that, didn't I?" His smile broke free at her teasing manner, and the way she simply brought light into his world.
"You did, and I take my charge seriously. Therefore, I must adamantly disagree."
"With what?" he couldn't help but ask.
Her expression froze then her green eyes danced with merriment as her plump lips pressed together as if suppressing the laughter that he so desperately wanted to hear.
"You know, I have no idea." She chuckled, which turned into more of a giggle.
Which made him smile wider and chuckle as well.
And that must have tipped the scale, because a moment later her laughter freed itself of the careful decorum she was so desperately trying to keep about herself. The sound echoed off the stone walls of the balcony, lilting and unapologetic, brilliant and artless. In a word, perfect.
At least to him.
Which is why he kissed her again. As natural as breathing, he pulled her in, giving in to the temptation of releasing her hand only to press into the small of her back and pull her in tighter. She was soft, her body pliant and curvaceous.
The kiss, which he'd started softly, was only a source of temptation. Unable to call forth his self-control, he leaned in, tasting the curve of her lips with his tongue till her surprised gasp allowed him to caress her teeth. She froze, and he paused but didn't break the seal of their lips.
He was gloriously surprised when she mimicked his actions and her velvet tongue tentatively touched his.
And the world exploded in flames.
Or maybe it was just him. But bloody hell, he was going to die happy.
Regaining control, he tasted her, committing her flavor to memory and knowing it would haunt him for the rest of his days.
Hopefully those days would be spent with her.
But more importantly, the nights.
Yes.
Each and every night.
Her passion matched her hair, colorful and vibrant, unafraid and bold. She was unflawed.
Never had he wanted someone so badly.
"Dianna Trowl!"
Which was good, seeming as he was just discovered in a rather compromising position. At least he was already planning on marrying her. Maybe not exactly making an offer tonight… but there was no time like the present.
But he couldn't help a slightly satisfied well of emotion within him. She was indeed compromised.
By him.
It was frightening and delightful all at once.
And to think, he was bored not an hour ago.
Ha.
"Dianna Trowl, I swear…" The woman seemed to pause and reconsider what she was about to say. Her gaze landed on him, then narrowed. "My lord."
"Lady…" He waited for her to fill in the blank as he released Miss Dianna and bowed.
"Trowl," she growled.
And he had the distinct desire to take a step back.
But he didn't, because he felt the slightest tremble from Miss Dianna, and he wasn't about to abandon her. After all, it was mostly his fault.
His fault, but it had all been started by her dress. So maybe a bit of her fault too.
"Lady Trowl, may I beg an audience with your husband?" He never wasted time beating around the bush once his mind was made up.
"Er, yes?" she replied, her eyebrows shooting up till they almost disappeared. "Brilliant. I shall call upon you tomorrow. Good day." He paused, glancing down at Miss Dianna and debated for just a moment. He didn't want to leave her, but didn't see any other option now that his intentions had been stated.
So he leaned down to whisper in her ear. "I was going to ask for your hand anyway… just so you're aware."
Her vibrant green eyes flashed with wonder, then desire, then rested back upon wonder.
He could get lost in those eyes.
But right now, with her mother watching with open curiosity, it wasn't the time to play out his desires.
So with a bow, he left, striding down the hallway and barely resisting the urge to whistle a merry tune.
Tomorrow was only a few hours away.
Chapter Three
I'm getting married! It was the first thought that entered her mind as she awoke, and the last thought she remembered before falling to sleep the night before. Oh, her mother had given her a tongue-lashing that had created quite an impressive headache, but it was worth it.
Lord Southridge. Why hadn't she heard of him before? An earl, no less! Her mother couldn't be angry for long, not with an earl adding to their family tree. But as soon as she finished those thoughts, she felt ashamed. Marrying someone for his title was more common than not, but she didn't want to be one of those people. Marrying a man for his title was rather like, well, not marrying someone because of hair color. Which she understood all too well, you can't control what you're born with.
She wanted Lord Southridge to have that assurance, the same one she wanted to have that he wasn't marrying her just for her green gown.
But she rather thought that it wasn't the gown. Her more romantic side gave in to the dream that it was a love match. Perhaps not yet, but it would be.
She'd make sure of it.
So with a bright disposition, she attacked her day with the fervor that only a determined woman can create, and began to plan. After all, she planned the stir last night with her dress, how hard could it be to create the perfect situation for a man to fall in love?
Even fall in love with her.
"Dianna?" Her mother's voice called from the door.
She winced. Might as well get this over with. Fully expecting another lecture, she squared her shoulders before opening her bedroom door.
"You clever girl!" Her mother reached out and pulled her into a very awkward embrace.
"Er, thank you?" Dianna answered, her voice muffled by her mother's shoulder.
"An earl! How splendid! I had no idea you'd set your cap for the Earl of Southridge!" Her mother released her from the embrace, but rather than let her go completely, she was holding her shoulders. Tightly.
"I hadn't," Dianna replied.
"Oh." Her mother's grip loosened, thankfully.
"Then how did… I… am confused," her mother finished, a tiny valley forming between her eyebrows.
Dianna shrugged. "He liked my dress."
"Your… dress?"
"Yes."
"Well I suppose marriages have been based on less." Her mother blinked rapidly a few times.
"Yes, but I think he rather likes me more than my dress."
"Well of course… one cannot marry clothing, dear."
Dianna didn't reply; she rather thought a comment like that shouldn't b
e validated with one.
"Nevertheless, he'll be here today to speak with your father," her mother added excitedly, her voice rising in pitch as her words came out quickly.
"He did mention that," Dianna murmured, glancing beyond her mother to the hall and wondering if she were ever going to make it that far. Her mother seemed quite determined.
A trait she possibly passed along to her daughter.
"You'll want to look your best." Her mother moved, but it wasn't aside; rather, it was a purposeful stride into her room.
Towards her wardrobe.
Oh no.
No, no, no, no.
Dianna had to think quickly. Her mother could not, under any circumstance, be allowed near her clothing. She loved her mother dearly, but the woman had the fashion sense of a blind woman. Or worse.
Likely, worse.
"Mother!" she shouted then paused as she had no idea what she was going to say next.
Her mother turned, her expression startled and slightly concerned. Probably thinking her daughter was acting a tad unhinged; which was true.
Drat.
"I, er, think I hear someone at the door!" It was the best she could come up with. Of course, that it was quite impossible to know that information from the location of her room was left to be decided; however, it indeed worked and her mother spun around and headed towards the door.
Dianna chose not to remind her that they had servants for that very purpose.
"Are you sure?"
"Er, no but I—"
"One never can be too cautious." She cut a glance to the hall. "I'll go check. Just in case. You—" She glanced back to Dianna and narrowed her eyes. "Wait here. It will not be good if he thinks you've been waiting for him."
Even though she was.
"Yes, mother." Dianna nodded solemnly, silently thanking the heavens that her mother was thwarted from disaster. Rather, she was thwarted from disaster. One could never take too much caution with fashion.
Last season had been a testament of that truth.
There was nothing left to do but wait. Which was miserable, because Dianna was not a patient person. So after her mother didn't appear, she decided it was safe to leave.
Heaven help her if her mother did come back and took up her previous errand and decided to address her clothing again.
Yes, it was best to be far away from her wardrobe… or her room.
So after breaking her fast and enjoying no less than three cups of chocolate — because chocolate was one of the few things of which one could never get enough — she retired to the library.
And waited some more.
And read.
And waited.
And when she felt like she might perish from the boredom, she heard voices.
And footsteps.
And they were walking right past the library, which was her reason for even being in the library, it's location next to her father's study.
So with deliberate calm, she picked up the book she had discarded a few minutes before, flipped it around once she noticed it was upside down, and waited till she heard her father's study door click shut.
Springing into action, she tossed the book on the settee and rushed to the corner grate to listen, willing her heartbeat to be quieter so that she could make out the words exchanged between Lord Southridge and her father.
Chapter Four
Cambridge accepted the offered chair as Lord Trowl sat behind his wide desk. Books and letters were scattered across the surface, momentarily distracting him.
"My wife has informed me to expect your visit." Lord Trowl leaned back in his chair, folding his hands over his chest and narrowing his eyes at Cambridge.
"Yes, I would like to request the honor of Miss Dianna's hand."
Lord Trowl's eyebrows rose. "Direct, aren't you?"
"I see no reason not to be, sir," Cambridge added politely, silently praying the man would simply accept his proposal and send him on his way.
"Why?"
"Pardon?" Confusion furrowed Cambridge's brow. How could he have been clearer?
"Why?" Lord Trowl repeated, a slight trembling in his lips made Cambridge suspicious of his intentions. It seemed like the older gentleman was making sport.
Of him.
Bloody hell. Just want he wanted.
"Because I find your daughter to be delightful company," he explained blandly, not wanting to give the man additional ammunition against him.
"Though I doubt anyone would disagree, I can say the same about my hounds, Southridge. What I want to know is why, after meeting her for all of one evening, you have decided to offer." Lord Trowl stood and paced behind his desk.
"I assume your wife explained…" Damn it, this was going to be awkward. Why couldn't the man simply say 'thank you' and send him on his way! "That I was found in a compromising position with your daughter, sir." He swallowed forcibly. It wasn't that he was fearful, simply… dreadfully uncomfortable.
"Of that I'm aware." Lord Trowl nodded. And then… nothing.
Cambridge nodded. What else could he do?
"So, if I'm to understand you, you wish to marry my daughter because you were so lacking in self control that you kissed her, not knowing her for more than a few hours, if that, and you think she is delightful company, even though you do not have certain knowledge of that fact since you have not been in her company for more than a few minutes? Have I missed anything?" He paused and gazed directly at Cambridge.
It had been a long time since he had felt properly chastened. Eton, first year when he bloodied the lip of a duke's son. He felt even more foolish now.
"What are you saying sir?" Was that a refusal? Even though everything the gentleman said was startlingly — and humblingly — accurate, he felt at a loss in thinking that Miss Dianna, the startling and radiant beauty from the night before, would not belong to him. She was a siren with the brave inclination to go against convention to laugh boldly. There was a light about her — she simply radiated joy.
As he thought about it, he realized he had held the correct response all along.
"Lord Trowl?"
The man paused mid breath as he had almost begun answering the question. With a stern glare, he nodded and waited for Cambridge to speak. Cambridge stood, and walked behind the chair after placing his hands on it, he determinedly squeezed the backrest.
"Your daughter is brave, sir. Her laughter is filled with joy and delight, and it cannot help but draw others in." He paused, gauging the older man's reaction. Lord Trowl tilted his head slightly, his eyes taking on a gentler expression. Emboldened, Cambridge continued. "She has a quick wit, but is kind, able to find delight in small things, things that most people miss, which is a rare attitude to find. While considerate and very proper," he was very careful to add. "She also isn't afraid to speak her mind and converse with intelligence. That, sir, is why I wish to marry her. Not simply to alleviate my honor, which is indeed true as well, but because once I find what I'm looking for, I don't see any reason to not be thankful and grasp it."
Cambridge waited, his fingers aching from biting into the wood, but he remained firm in his gaze.
Lord Trowl studied him. And after what felt like hours of waiting, his expression slowly warming from the cool stare. "You have my permission."
"Thank you." Exhaling a deep sigh of relief, Cambridge decided to take his leave before anything else could happen. He bowed and turned for the door.
"One more thing," Lord Trowl called.
Closing his eyes in dread, Cambridge exhaled a silent sigh, and spun, forcing his expression to be open and polite.
Lord Trowl was, after all, going to be his father-in-law. Damn the man, he knew it too!
"Between you and me…" Lord Trowl walked briskly towards him, pausing before continuing, "I thought you'd want to know why I asked such pointed questions."
Cambridge nodded.
Lord Trowl nodded towards the wall.
Cambridge glanced to the wall, then back to Lord T
rowl. Not comprehending.
"If I know my daughter, which I'd like to think that I do, she is in the library right now and her very delicate ear is pressed up against the grate listening intently." His voice was barely above a whisper.
The words sent a jolt of surprise through Cambridge. He jerked upright as he stared from the wall and back to Lord Trowl.
Lord Trowl chuckled then held out his hand. Cambridge grasped it, noticing the older gentleman squeezed harder than was necessary. "I just thought you'd like to know what you're getting into." He suppressed another chuckle and released his hand.
"Indeed." Cambridge nodded, trying to keep his own lips from bending into a grin. It didn't surprise him; Dianna's predisposal to eavesdrop. Somehow, it fit her perfectly. Shaking his head he turned to leave again.
And was stopped again by Lord Trowl's voice.
"You may stop by the library to officially notify her of your engagement."
"Thank you." Cambridge turned and nodded then left, sighing in relief once he made it into the hall.
After a few steps he was to the next door; because of his curious nature, he peered into the room, hoping to catch her in the act of listening at the grate.
Rather, she was sitting demurely on the settee, a book in her hand and an indifferently polite expression on her face as she stared at the book.
The book, which he noticed, was quite upside down.
Chuckling, he knocked on the door.
Glancing up, her eyes danced with merriment and her full lips spread out in a welcoming smile.
He could get used to that type of welcome.
With a kiss shortly after.
Then perhaps more. But now was not the time to be thinking of that. Especially with the prospect that the grate worked both ways. Just as she could hear the words from her father's study, her father could surely hear them in the library.
The idea was like an ice water bath.
That lasted only a moment.
And as she stood, her day dress displaying the sweet swell of her hips and the slightest curve of her breasts, he sternly reminded himself that one compromising position was enough for a day.
But he was very tempted.
"Come in," she beckoned, her beaming grin fading into a slightly shy smile.
The Only Reason for the London Season Page 2