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He lingered near a bank of hydrangeas, breathing in their sweet scent while surveying the gathering. He felt strangely at ease, seeing Diana thrive in this once-daunting social scene. Any gathering hosted by Josephine had the potential to unearth old gossip, but Diana’s growing confidence seemed to brush aside the widow’s usual barbs.

A rustle of silk to his right alerted him that his respite would be short-lived. He turned to find Josephine approaching with a purposeful stride, her gown of deep amethyst catching the light. She wore a faintly triumphant smile, as though savoring the chance to corner him alone.

“Gilbert,” she said, her address too familiar by half, and offered a curtsy that barely dipped her head. “How gallant of you to attend my little affair.”

He inclined his head, more out of ingrained courtesy than genuine feeling. “Josephine.”

She drew closer, dropping her voice to a confidential murmur. “I have been meaning to speak with you. One cannot help but hear so many rumors regarding your…marriage. Of course,” she added with a simper, “you returned so soon after your honeymoon, the ton cannot help but wonder.”

Gilbert stiffened at her insinuation, but forced his tone to remain steady. “Our marriage is no concern of yours.”

Josephine emitted a soft, almost pitying laugh.

“Come now. You do not have to put on pretenses with me. Your union with that little chit” she let the slur hang for effect, “cannot possibly compare to what we once shared.”

A flicker of anger spiked in his chest. He had never cared for Josephine’s sly attempts to reframe their former liaison into something more.

“We shared nothing lasting. And as I said, my affairs are not yours to interfere with,” he said, fighting to keep his countenance cool.

“Why maintain this charade?” She tilted her head, her eyes narrowed in a provocative gaze. “The entire ton knows you wed out of necessity, and that you cannot possibly desire a life with her. Return to me. In truth, I doubt you have even consummated?—”

“Enough.” His voice was icy. “This ‘charade’ as you call it, is my marriage. And my marriage is my own concern. You would do well to remember that.”

“I find it unlikely you have had such a swift change of heart. Why not come by my estate? We can discuss old times. No harm in—” Josephine pressed on, unfazed by his warning.

“Josephine, if you have any sense, you will stop this at once. Do not approach me so carelessly.” He took a deliberate step back, fury flashing in his eyes.

“I only mean to remind you of what you are missing,” she purred. She reached out as if to smooth the lapel of his coat, her fingertips just brushing the fabric.

Gilbert opened his mouth to demand she withdraw her hand, but suddenly, a gentle warmth enclosed his fingers. Diana’s slender, gloved hand slipped into his, and he nearly sighed in relief at her timely arrival.

A swift glance told him she had witnessed Josephine’s blatant gesture. Yet her own bearing remained poised, and she stared at the countess with ironclad authority.

“Lady Halfacre,” Diana said smoothly, “pray excuse me for stealing my husband away. I believe my father and sister have need of us.” Her tone held every ounce of decorum, but there was no mistaking the staunch gleam in her eyes.

Josephine let her hand drop from Gilbert’s coat, her facade of poise deteriorating. She stared at Diana’s joined hand with Gilbert’s, evidently grasping how little ground she now held.

“But of course,” she said, failing to keep the bitterness from her voice. Her gaze darted to Gilbert, as if hoping he might contradict Diana’s request.

Gilbert tightened his hold on Diana’s fingers, offering the widow only the briefest of acknowledgments.

“Good day, Countess,” he said, turning away with purposeful finality.

As they moved off, Diana’s grip on his hand remained reassuringly firm. Once they were out of earshot, she gently released him, though the concern in her eyes had not dimmed.

“I trust her presence did not vex you overmuch?”

“She posed no great trial, thanks to your timely intervention,” he exhaled, steeling his composure.

A slight smile curved Diana’s lips, and she nodded in the direction of her father and Alison, who were waiting for them near a cluster of rosebushes.

“Then let us attend to more welcome company.”

The two continued on, hand in hand for a few moments longer. Gilbert felt the tension in his shoulders begin to ease. Whatever Josephine’s plans, they were now of little consequence. Diana had made her stance clear.

He belonged at her side, and she would not stand for any insolence regarding her marriage. The memory of Josephine’s flustered expression already felt distant, overshadowed by the comforting presence of the woman who shared his name, and whose company he found increasingly indispensable.

They reached Lord Crayford and Alison, exchanging warm greetings amid the chatter and fragrance of the garden. Gilbert, still relishing the relief of escaping Josephine, caught Diana’s eye over Alison’s animated account of her recent riding lesson and offered her a small, thankful smile.