D iana looked around her room at the hotel in Porto and sighed.

While she had enjoyed their journey so far on the SS Lark , she was grateful for a night in a full-size room.

Audrey was in the maid quarters one floor up, and her Aunt Winifred was located next door.

Captain Monroe had planned a busy day of activities for all of them.

Porto, he declared earlier, was one of the best cities on the continent.

Dazzling had been the word that came to mind as they arrived at the port.

The rising sun had given the buildings a golden hue.

Even Devons stated it was beautiful. The passengers, happy to spend a night on land, quickly disappeared into the city.

Diana and Devons’s group of travelers had been whisked away to a hotel that Captain Monroe coordinated for them.

Diana smiled at the thought that, somehow, they’d formed a little group to spend time with during their journey.

Based on Monroe’s actions, Diana suspected he believed Addie’s idea of an all-ladies grand tour was a worthwhile venture.

The captain also arranged to have an acquaintance show them around.

She wasn’t sure if his assistance was business-related or something else.

Diana frowned, thinking about how complicated it may become if she had some type of liaison with him. Still, she was flattered by his notice.

It had been a long time since anyone expressed such interest in her.

Diana looked in the mirror in the corner, acknowledging the changes she saw, staring back at her.

She’d grown up with the strictest rules about appearance and often found herself trying to readjust something or fix something out of place.

Since leaving England, she’d let that go. Her hair, even when worked on by Audrey, had a wild look to it. Probably because the curls that seemed so manageable at home refused to do anything orderly. The sun had given her face color she normally avoided. Diana liked it.

A frown filled her face. She would meet with her mother next week, and she wouldn’t like the changes.

Why did it matter? Diana hadn’t seen her in years.

A nibble of hope bloomed in her that maybe she’d changed.

Diana told herself not to get her hopes up.

Kindness wasn’t natural to her mother. A memory flashed in her mind of her telling Diana who she would wed.

“Diana, I will not explain our choice any further. Lord Hensley will be a duke soon enough. That is what is most important.”

“Mother, he is everything you tell us not to be in appearance. He always appears rumpled. He is not what I envisioned.”

Her mother’s mouth twisted into a sneer. “Did you think you would get someone better? You?”

She flushed. “I thought—”

“At least Clara is beautiful. You are just plain, a plain proper lady.”

Pain shot through Diana at her harsh words. Her mother glared. “Is there anything else?”

“No, Mother.”

Shaking the memory away, Diana reminded herself that at least it had worked out because, in the end, Stuart had been everything she could ever want.

Still, the words had been cruel. Cruelty had been constant from the woman who gave her life.

She shook her head. Why was she thinking about all of this?

She would not dwell on her visit with her mother and her potential return to England.

Diana made her way out of the room and down the stairs before entering the Café Agueda connected to where they were staying.

The cafe was filled with both men and women from all social classes.

Diana spied a woman sketching at a table and, at another, a group of men playing instruments.

Monroe said Porto was a city for artists, and Diana could see why.

She had the urge to sit in the cafe and observe but knew they had a full day of activities.

“What do you think?” Devons said, approaching her.

She swung around and grinned at him. “Is it wrong for me to love it here?”

A curl from her bun must have fallen free because he leaned forward and tucked it behind her ear. “I don’t think so at all. Have you ever been to my club?”

“Just once.”

“Ahh…I remember that night. The day you burst through my doors, ready to find your sister.”

“You must have thought I had taken leave of my senses.”

He shook his head. “That is not what I remember. I remember thinking, ‘What a fierce woman.’”

She blushed at his compliment. At the time, Diana had been frantic with worry about Clara.

She’d been willing to do whatever it took to get help, even entering Devons’s notorious club, the Den.

Getting to know him, she was now skeptical of its notoriety.

He was a good man, even if he liked to pretend otherwise.

“Tell me about your establishment.”

He lifted a black, silky brow. “Why?”

She shrugged. “I’ve only been there one time. I’m intrigued at how infamous of a place it could be after meeting you. I’m starting to doubt the rumors.”

He smirked and leaned in. “Not all sin is evil. Vice can be enjoyed without it causing harm.”

“Can it?” she murmured, her heart hammering. Why did his words cause her to tremble?

Just then, Aunt Winifred walked through the door. “Captain Monroe’s friend is out here, ready to take us on a historical tour.”

Devons stepped back and winked. “Another time I will tell you about my club.”

“I would like that,” Diana said, surprising them both.

And she would, Diana realized, but now was not the time.

She and Devons followed her aunt out the door, where a dapper, short slender man stood.

He beamed when he saw them. “Hello. My name is Senhor Martim Costa. Captain Monroe is a friend of mine and I told him I would show you some of the history of my wonderful city while he does whatever captains do.”

“Lovely,” Diana said.

“Where will we be going first?” Devons asked.

“A place that tells the most romantic story in all of Portugal,” he said, holding a carriage door open.

Diana allowed him to assist her. She was then joined by Aunt Winifred, Mr. Spoor, Devons, and Costa himself. Once settled, he tapped on the carriage, and they lumbered down the street.

“Have you heard of Senhor Pedro?” Costa asked them all.

They all shook their heads, and he sighed, disappointed. “Of course not, but don’t worry, I will tell you about him.”

They all leaned in, excited. Diana glanced at Devons. Well, except for her travel companion, who sat with his ever-present half-amused expression. Diana wondered what it took for Devons to be enraptured or swept away by something.

“Senhor Pedro was the son of King John IV of Portugal, and even though he was married, he fell in love with another woman. Her name was Inés. He loved her desperately. Still, there wasn’t much he could do as he was tied to another woman for life. That is until his wife passed.”

“Did he marry her?” Aunt Winifred asked.

Costa shook his head. “His father was against them marrying and banished Inés from the court.”

“Horrible parents,” her aunt muttered, enthralled with the story.

Diana glanced at Devons. His half-amused expression was still there, but she noticed he, too, now followed the story closely.

Costa continued, “But Senhor Pedro’s love was too strong, and he chose to live with Inés in sin.”

“This is a rather salacious story,” Mr. Spoor said.

Her aunt shushed him, causing Diana to laugh. Costa smiled and said, “All the best ones are.”

The carriage came to a stop, and he jumped out. “Follow me to learn what happened to them.”

They entered a beautiful building, and hanging on the back wall of the grand hall was a tapestry of someone’s life. The lower part showed two large tombs within a monastery.

“So, they ended up together,” Diana stated.

Costa smiled gleefully, and Diana suspected he had told this story more than once. Devons stepped up next to her and said, “I’m guessing they did not.”

Diana frowned, disappointed.

“The king was so worried about his son’s relationship with Inés that he had her murdered. Senhor Pedro was outraged, but he could do nothing about it, so he waited until his father’s death.”

“He must have been quite an angry man,” Aunt Winifred remarked.

Costa nodded. “Once his father died and he became king, he had the assassins killed, some even saying he took part. Then he moved Inés’s remains to the Alcobaca Monastery and made her the de facto queen even though she was dead. They are both buried there.”

“He must have loved her deeply,” her aunt exclaimed.

“He sounds unhinged to me,” Mr. Spoor stated.

Aunt Winifred rolled her eyes. Diana glanced at Devons. “What do you think?”

Devons shrugged. “That it is a shame they couldn’t marry. A lifetime of scandal is a heavy burden.”

Diana knew he was talking from personal experience. He winked at her. “Though Mr. Spoor might be right. Senhor Pedro does seem unhinged.”

She laughed, and everyone joined in. Costa smiled. “I hope you enjoyed my story.”

“Is it true?” Diana asked.

He shrugged. “Perhaps.”

Steps echoed off the stone flooring, and they all turned to see an elegant man entering the hall. He was tall like Devons but not quite as broad. He had a regal, handsome face with a head of black curls.

“May I introduce Count Lorenzo de Messina from Sardinia. He is accompanying the late King of Sardinia’s sister while she handles the king’s affairs.”

The man’s eyes moved around the room before landing on Diana.

He briefly perused her, and a small smile formed on his face.

He was certainly attractive. He bowed to all of them.

“Good afternoon. I will be joining you for dinner and the theater tonight. Did you enjoy the tapestry? I find the story rather dark but also fascinating.”

Diana nodded. He stepped closer to her, taking her hand and raising it to his mouth. “And you are?”

She blushed. “Lady Hensley.”

“Are you here for the tapestry as well?” Devons asked in a growly voice.