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Another suppressed groan on Diana’s part.

They were all the same. The feigned compliments. The excessive flirtations. That sense that what was said was merely performative, because this little rendezvous had been set up in advance and it would not be Diana’s choice if the marquess chose her as his mate.

Diana was not opposed to marriage. She, like most women of the ton, spent their young lives thinking to the future and what that might look like. She, like most, wanted to meet a man whom she could fall in love with, grow old with, raise a family with and be happy.Why ever not?

The problem was her mother. With five daughters to rear, she had done well to see Diana’s older sisters married off to dukes – a true accomplishment which she spoke of often. And now with Diana as the last to worry about, she had made it her mission to ensure the same. Maybe not a duke, but a man of standing, respectability, one whom she could brag about to anyone unlucky enough to ask.

It was a level of expectation that did not sit well with Diana. She wanted to please her mother. She really did. But she did not want to do it in lieu of her own happiness.

And so it was that she had no choice in her response to his question.

“A dance? Nothing would please me more,” Diana said to the marquess. “Mother, if you do not mind?”

“Please, please. You cousin and I need a refreshment. Is that not right, Evelyn?”

“What?” Evelyn hadn’t been paying attention. Her mind tended to wander, and she was gazing across the garden, likely at a gentleman who had caught her eye. “Oh!” her eyes went wide when she saw everyone looking at her. “Yes... I think?”

“Come, girl,” Diana’s mother sighed and took her hand. “Let us leave them be.”

With little choice in the matter, Diana allowed the marquess to lead them across the garden where a small space set aside for dancing had opened. There were eight couples currently in the throes, and with their addition it made nine.

“I find the waltz a tantalizing dance, don’t you?” The marquess purred as he pulled Diana into his body; his hand found her waist... a little lower than what was expected. “Ordinarily, I do not partake. Leave it to the French,” he chortled, his grip tightening. “But just this one time.”

What else could Diana do but allow herself to be led? And with so many eyes now on her and the marquess, she had little choice but to act as if she was enjoying herself. Which she most certainly was not.

Before meeting with the marquess, Diana had promised herself to be open minded. With her mother’s incessant hounding, she had wanted to be swept off her feet. Sadly, a few moments of conversation and a few more moments of dancing and she knew without a shadow of the doubt that the marquess was not for her.

A shame the same could not be said of the marquess.

“You are quite the dancer,” he complimented her as they moved across the floor. His hand was held far too tightly. His body pressed too closely. And as he spoke, he leaned in as if to whisper into her ear. “My oh my, you aretrouble.”

“I have no idea what you mean.”

“Come now,” he chortled. “Do not play games with me. I wish to be blunt with you, if I may?”

She said nothing, knowing it would make no difference.

“When I saw you earlier, I was captured in ways I knew not possible. I was told that you were a beauty, but I knew not how much...” He pulled away a little, enough to get a better look at her. Typically, his eyeline fell south toward her chest where it lingered inappropriately. “And now that I have seen you, I know that there is nothing in this world that will stop me.”

“St -- stop you?”

“From making you mine.”

“That is...” Diana felt her face pale. “Very forward of you.” She had no idea what else to say.

The smile that reached his eyes suggested he took her comment as a compliment. “I often am, when it comes to getting what I wish.”

The two continued to dance, the marquess eyeing Diana seductively the entire time. He seemed to think that she was as keenly interested in him as he was in her; the smile he wore was as sickening as it was confident. Through the crowd, Diana spied her mother watching them, and she could not have looked happier with herself.

It was all too much. Unfair. Typical, because of course this was bound to happen. A dozen men had been paraded before Diana in the past few years, none anything special, but none as forward and obvious and sleezy as the marquess.

When the dance finally came to an end, Diana was quick to speak. “I am afraid I need to rest a moment.”

“Oh...”

“If you do not mind?” she said with a polite smile. She could see his expression harden and she added, “I will find you once I return. I promise.”

That did it. He smiled broadly, took her hand, and gave it a wet kiss. “I will wait like no man ever has.”