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“I must admit I am merely joking. If someone were to be banished for such a trivial matter, my dear sister would have been permanently exiled long ago.”

Diana’s expression was soft, though she was trying to summon a not-so-convincing glare. It was her eyes that betrayed her. Those green eyes that sparkled with delight. The same eyes James had seen so full of ire. And melting longing. Now, they were shining with… love.

She loved her brother.

“To have Lady Diana in exile would have been a terrible loss to the world.” James cast a glance at her.

There was something in his voice that made her turn to him. He heard it, too.

“That almost sounded sincere,” she noted.

“Iamcapable of being sincere, My Lady.”

She tilted her head and regarded him seriously, assessing and measuring him. As if she had uncovered something she wasn’t expecting.

James didn’t like it at all. Or he rather hated that he liked it.

“So, Lord Crawford,” Herbert cut in. “Let’s talk numbers.”

James was equal parts relieved and annoyed that Herbert changed the subject.

Diana smiled and got up. “Since I have concluded that my brother remains the same brute he has always been, I shall leave you to it.”

Herbert jumped up and took his sister in his arms, before placing a kiss on her cheek. James ached to touch her too, to give her more than just a peck. He did the next best thing.

He bowed and grabbed her hand.

“Are you attending the Ashford ball, My Lady?”

His question was genuine and also gave him an excuse to hold onto her hand a little bit longer.

“I shall endeavor to be in attendance, My Lord.”

“I will see you there, then.” He smiled roguishly and finally brushed his lips over the thin fabric of her gloves.

After he left Herbert’s much later, James contemplated spending his evening in his club. But he already had a few drinks with the young man, and the conversation was so rich and smooth that he felt sated.

And after seeing Diana, he could barely focus on anything else other than the Ashford ball. Where he would see her again. Sure, they agreed that the lessons were to be conducted duringpromenades, but he was certain he could get her to bend the rules for him.

Rules, he had found, were often more of a suggestion than a hard limit. He could persuade her. Hewouldpersuade her.

So, James ended up back in his study, buried in financial reports. Investments and accounts, ledgers upon ledgers filled with numbers. It sounded boring, but he was used to it from a very young age. In addition, he found solace in the certainty of numbers. There was no room for desire when one added or subtracted. And at the top of that pile was a detailed proposal by Herbert.

“One should have all his agreements in writing…”

Her voice echoed in his head. He smiled to himself. He was mad when he picked her up for their second promenade. He was furious about what his father said and livid with himself that he allowed his father to affect him so much. It was her banter, her wit, and her determination that brought the heat back to his body.

More than heat.

A knock at the door brought him back to reality.

“James?”

It was his grandmother, and it was way past the time she retired to her bed. This meant that something was going on.

He got up and opened the door. He smiled at her and led her inside, pulling a chair to the fireplace. He rang for tea, since he knew her too well.

“Is anything amiss, Grandmother?”