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M arcus stayed in Ireland for another week. Lord and Lady Bandon hosted a number of dinners, to which Harrington, Diana, and his fellow officers and their wives were invited. This enabled the duke to see that the society in which his sister found herself was better than he had supposed.

He and Harrington remained stilted in one another’s presence. It was strange seeing two men known for their sardonic wit behaving with such stiff formality. But, Diana mused, it was better than being at one another’s throats.

Harrington’s deployment lasted another nine months, after which the army recalled him to London. Their return voyage was far less eventful than their initial crossing had been.

And so it was on a crisp evening in March that Diana found herself disembarking at the Royal Dockyard at Deptford, with Harrington by her side and Inge trotting at their heels.

Part of her wanted to go straight to Latimer House. She longed to wrap Aunt Griselda in a tight hug and press kisses to Alaric’s perfect, blond head. But she knew that if they went there, Marcus would insist they stay as his guests. And Diana was determined to establish their independence.

She and Harrington therefore took a room at the Pulteney Hotel and sent messages to their respective families informing them of their return, and that they hoped to see them on the morrow.

They slept well in the plush bed. Having grown accustomed to keeping military hours, they were dressed and finishing breakfast at eight o’clock when a footman wearing the Latimer family’s familiar pale blue and gold livery presented himself at the door.

“James,” Diana said, rising from her chair and crossing the room to press his hand. “How wonderful to see you.”

James’s eyes were warm as he bowed over her hand. “My lady. I apologize for the early hour, but they said downstairs that you were already up and about.”

“You were informed correctly. I assume you come bearing a message from my brother?”

“Yes, indeed.” James presented a crisp white envelope with a flourish.

Diana cracked open the seal and found an elegantly calligraphed card:

To Lieutenant Harrington Astley and Lady Diana Astley,

Their Graces the Duke and Duchess of Trevissick

request the honor of your presence

at Latimer House

on Tuesday, the 24 th of March

at two o’clock in the afternoon.

“So formal,” Diana observed, showing Harrington. “And gracious—this is today’s date.” She turned to James. “What is the occasion?”

“Forgive me, my lady. I am not at liberty to say.”

Diana arched an eyebrow. “So mysterious. Well, you may tell my brother that I will be able to attend.”

“I’ll try to make it over as well,” Harrington said, “but I’ve been summoned to Horse Guards to discuss my next assignment. Hopefully, my meeting will have concluded by then.”

James blanched. “His Grace instructed me that I was not to leave until I had extracted a promise that you would both be present.”

Diana exchanged a curious glance with Harrington. “Well, Marcus will have to manage his disappointment. My husband’s career must come before… whatever this mysterious summons might be.”

James turned to Harrington. “With whom will you be meeting?”

“With General James Gordon,” Harrington supplied.

“General Gordon,” James muttered, pulling a small notebook and pencil from his breast pocket.

“His Grace can send the general a note, advising him of the need for your meeting to conclude prior to two.” He nodded to himself as he tucked the notebook away.

“The duke will take care of it. I am sure that he will.”

“James,” Diana said, unable to conceal her exasperation, “please tell my brother that he is not to meddle in army business. It’s unbecoming. This is Harrington’s career!”

James bowed deeply. “Never fear, my lady. His Grace will know precisely how to handle it. I daresay he can smooth everything over by extending General Gordon an invitation to the…” He trailed off, clearing his throat.

“Never mind!” He reached behind him for the doorknob.

“It was wonderful seeing you, my lady! Lieutenant!”

“James!” Diana protested. “I insist that you tell me what is?—”

“Until this afternoon!” James cried, and then the door clicked shut behind him.

Diana rubbed her brow, exasperated. “My brother is a plague.”

Harrington laughed, coming up behind her and rubbing her shoulders. “Your brother is a duke, which I suppose is its own form of pestilence. Are you truly surprised?”

She sighed. “No. Well, you are wanted at Horse Guards. I take it I am not to visit Latimer House before two, but perhaps I will drop in on Izzie and Lucy.”

But much to Diana’s annoyance, none of the Astleys were at home when she called at their townhouse on Cavendish Square.

Their longtime butler, Yarwood, clucked sympathetically when she asked where they had gone, and at such an early hour. “I am terribly sorry, my lady. But I have been sworn to silence.”

Diana bit back her irritation. She knew that none of this was Yarwood’s fault, and Marcus was the one who deserved her ire. “Never mind,” she said brightly. “I shall head to the Nettlethorpe-Ogilvy manse and see what Izzie is up to.”

Yarwood cleared his throat. “My apologies, Lady Diana. But I fear you will find that Lady Isabella is similarly occupied. Unless you wish to spend the morning with Mr. Nettlethorpe-Ogilvy’s parents, I would advise you to give their household a wide berth.”

Diana smiled tightly. “Thank you for the warning, Yarwood.”

Lacking any other way to pass the time, she sent one of the Pulteney’s footmen over to her brother’s stables to fetch her mare, Artemisia, and spent the morning riding in Hyde Park.

That it was not the fashionable hour was an enticement rather than a shortcoming, as the park was empty and this was the only time of day when one was permitted to gallop.

She returned to the hotel to find that Marcus had sent over her lady’s maid, Veronique, along with a few of her old dresses.

She allowed Veronique to dress her in a silk gown and poke and prod her with the curling tongs for what felt like an inordinately long period of time until she looked like her old self, the sister of the duke, the richest heiress in all of England, rather than a humble officer’s wife.

Harrington gave a low whistle when he returned from Horse Guards. Diana smiled as he met her eyes in the mirror. “Do you prefer me in silk and seed pearls, then?” she teased.

He pressed a kiss into her palm. “I prefer you with that smile on your face. Shall we go see what your brother is up to?”

She rose from the padded stool. “Let’s.”

Diana felt her throat constrict as the carriage Marcus had sent for them drove between the familiar pair of lion statues flanking the drive of Latimer House.

It only grew worse as the door was opened by their long-time family butler, Ellery.

When little Alaric ran into the room, arms extended overhead for “Aunt Diynah” to pick him up, she began sniffling, and by the time Aunt Griselda came down the stairs and enveloped her in a hug, tears were streaming down her cheeks.

Lucy and Izzie broke the tension by flying into the foyer, crowing with delight and almost bowling her over in their enthusiasm. And by the time Marcus strolled into the room, Diana was laughing through her tears.

He scowled. “Why are you crying?”

She gave him a baleful look. “Happy tears, Marcus. I am merely overwhelmed at seeing everyone again.”

He leaned close to whisper in her ear. “And you are still happy in your marriage?”

She swiped her thumb beneath her eyes. “Extremely happy.”

He rocked back on his heels. “Good. In that case.” He offered his arm to Diana, and much to her astonishment, slung an arm around Harrington’s shoulders.

Marcus led them toward the turquoise parlor. Diana could hear a hum of conversation behind the gold-and-white gilded doors. She drew their party to a halt. “Marcus, what’s all this?”

He smirked, then nodded for James to open the door. “Your wedding breakfast.”

Round tables draped in pristine white cloths had been scattered throughout the high-ceilinged room. Crystal glinted before each place setting, and Diana saw that Marcus had pulled out the family’s best china, a set of Sèvres porcelain rimmed in blue and gold and adorned with hand-painted roses.

Diana did not have long to admire the décor, because they were immediately mobbed by Harrington’s entire family.

Even Freddie, whom Diana had only met on a handful of occasions, as he was still in his final year at Eton, had come down to London for the occasion.

It was startling to see that little Freddie was now as tall as his brothers.

While Fauconbridge enveloped Harrington in a bear hug, Marcus’s wife, Cecilia, strolled up to Diana with a baby in her arms.

Diana leaned forward. “This must be little Griselda!”

“We’ve been calling her Zelda,” Ceci explained. “Here, take her. She is the most agreeable creature.”

Diana made a sound of pleasure as Ceci handed little Zelda over.

Beneath the three yards of lace she wore, Diana saw she had a mop of honey-colored curls and the same fine, dark eyes as Ceci.

She thought Zelda might protest being taken away from her mother, but the baby immediately returned Diana’s smile, reaching a tiny hand up to touch her aunt’s cheek.

Diana leaned in close to nuzzle her perfect head. “Your Aunt Diana is going to teach you to fence. We shall practice until you are every bit as ferocious as your namesake.”

Marcus strolled over, holding Alaric in his arms. “Isn’t she marvelous?” He smiled at his wife. “I know you will think me conceited, but truly, Cecilia and I produce the most outstanding children.”

Diana gave him a wry look. “Conceited? You?”