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She raised an eyebrow. “I must admit that I am intrigued. Which philosopher speaks to you more, My Lord?”

“Judging by the times I have readMeditations,I must admit that Marcus Aurelius is the one I admire most.”

Diana’s eyes widened, and she faltered for a second.Meditations. Her favorite book.

He caught it, her disbelief, ever watching every little change in her face and body. “I see that you approve.”

“I do.”

“You seem surprised, My Lady.”

“Let’s say that I am reevaluating some assumptions I had made hastily.”

His eyes darkened, and his smirk widened. “Everyone sees what you appear to be, few experience what you really are.”

Machiavelli. He was quoting Machiavelli to her, and he managed to make it sound so debauched and wickedly alluring.

“Whereas I…” He was relentless, not letting her catch her breath. “… as you may have noticed, I am not the least surprised to find you so well-versed in philosophy.”

“I feel as if I am obliged to say thank you.”

Diana realized exactly what he just explained to her. He considered her deep knowledge of philosophy a given.

“You’re welcome, My Lady.”

“I gather, then, that you actually studied while in university.”

“Would it ruin the carefully cultivated air of mystery I’ve worked so hard to maintain if I told you I was the captain of Pop? And later, a rather infamous presence at the Oxford Union?”

Diana blinked. “Infamous? What a recurrent theme for you, My Lord.”

“Let’s say my opponents did not leave debates unscathed. Not all wounds are of the flesh, My Lady.”

The way he said ‘flesh’ awakened hers. Their philosophical banter, the way he overturned the poor opinion she had of him without being insulted, and the way he elevated her by not being surprised that she was well-read did things to her that she struggled to control.

“So, you were a formidable debater then, My Lord.”

“A skill that your wit is putting to the test.”

Calling her beautiful or any other of those nonsensical compliments would mean nothing to her. But this man knew exactly what she needed to hear. His praise of her wits made her heart skip a beat and her stomach flutter.

Diana glanced up at him, the blue of his eyes darker than before. Her gaze flicked—too quickly—to his lips before she realized what she was doing and looked away. But it was too late. He hadseenit. And worse, heknew.

“Oh, Lady Diana, what a waste it would be not to see the Chinese magnolia in bloom,” he said far too loudly.

What?

Diana almost lost her balance at the absurdity of his comment. What did Chinese magnolias have anything to do with?—

“A Chinese magnolia, you say, My Lord?” Mrs. Bremford, her chaperone, piped up. “I have never seen one.”

Oh, he is an absolute scoundrel.

Diana slightly shook her head as she squinted at him. He shrugged with a devious smile as he turned to the old woman.

“That is a loss that must be remedied.” James used all his polished charm on the unsuspecting maid. “It is a rare beauty. And it is said that its scent surpasses that of the most intoxicating roses.”

Mrs. Bremford’s eyes shone with excitement. Diana was ready to applaud him for his performance, but he was not done yet.