Page 29

Diana was finally able to sleep.

The Hexters’ ball was one of the most extravagant events of the Season, and no one was missing that. Diana was no exception. She was to be escorted by Herbert, since Stephen and Elizabeth had stayed behind.

“Does this mean you forgive me?” Herbert asked and patted the hand she had on his arm.

“It means there was no one else available.” Diana glared at him.

“How about your precious Elizabeth?”

“Are you seriously jealous of your sister-in-law?”

“You seem to like her more than me.”

“An affection she has won by—I don’t know—by her constant care not to humiliate me in public.”

Herbert smiled and kissed her cheek. He could be quite charming if he so wished.

Diana smiled back. She could not stay mad at him for too long. Plus, she had more pressing matters at hand.

She seemed determined and composed, that same posture she had perfected after years of training and observation. On the outside, she was the same Lady Diana everyone knew. An impenetrable castle of indifference to all the whispers and murmurs around her.

Especially now that she found herself out of the shadows where she usually hid.

She mingled with her hand wrapped around Herbert’s arm. But she was a fraud. Inside, she was anything but indifferent. She wasn’t there to enjoy the full orchestra Lady Hexter had brought from France solely for the ball. She wasn’t there to admire the acrobats that were dancing and swinging over the guests’ heads. Not even the mountain of chocolate truffles in the banquet hall.

No. She was a woman on a mission. She had a plan to set in motion. She had made a decision, and she was ready to act on it. But to do that, she needed to findhim. He was an integral part of the said plan. By Jove, he was the one who initiated the whole thing.

But where was he?

Diana almost swore between clenched teeth.

It figured. The man was an insufferable flirt, trying her, testing the limits again and again, and now that she was finally crossing them, he was nowhere to be seen.

A rotten suspicion crept up her spine under her lilac dress. What if this was just a trick? He could have led her exactly where he wanted her to be, with his charm and his promises, his dark looks, and that devious smirk. All the perfect making of a trap that she willingly walked into. Only to mock her in the end.

Was this all a lie?

She had the gnawing feeling that she was the butt of a joke. That this was all nothing but an exercise in manipulation in which he excelled and she failed.

“Good evening, Lady Diana.”

Her back went rigid. He was there. With that annoyingly perfect timing that was most likely meant to throw her off.

“It sure was.” She turned around slowly.

He was looking at her with fascination.

“Was? I do not dare think I am the reason for that. No, it can’t be.” He seemed unfazed by her clipped answer. “Luckily, I am here to improve your mood.”

The look on his face was all fake politeness, and Diana was ready to unmask him in front of the swooning ladies.

“Lord Crawford!” Herbert was annoyingly giddy. He initiated a discussion with gusto. Diana guessed that it was trivial, judging by the way Lord Crawford’s attention was solely focused on her. He was still playing that game, that same game.

“Lady Diana.” Lord Hexter, their host’s eldest son, materialized before her. “May I ask for your first dance?”

He had been one of her visitors and the only one she did not find completely atrocious. She was ready to turn him down with a smile when she found her hand swallowed in a big, hot palm.

“I am afraid, Lord Hexter”—Lord Crawford was already pulling her to the dance floor—“Lady Diana has promised her first dance to me.”