TWO HOURS LATER, another soft rap sounded upon Diana’s door. “We thought you might desire our escort to supper. But how lovely you look!” Annalee exclaimed in admiration as Diana joined them in the hall. “I knew that gown would be perfect for you. I could never carry off a style so bold even if I had my slender figure back.” She laid a hand on her expanded waistline with a look of dismay.
Elegantly attired in bottle-green velvet and crisp, white linen, Edward gave a formal bow over Diana’s hand. “You are indeed…dashing,” he said as if struggling for the right word. Noting the spots of color in his cheekbones, Diana knew a moment’s regret for her daring décolletage. She fought the impulse to fetch a fichu, but remembering a certain vivid blue gaze that had fixed upon her breasts, she determined to sally forth with boldness.
“Is there still no word of Reginald?” Diana asked.
“Hew was some considerable assistance in the matter. He said Reggie arrived at Epsom several days hence.”
With no further elaboration forthcoming, Diana prompted, “Where do you suppose he has been all this time?”
“I am given to understand he has been a guest at Clay Hill.”
“Clay Hill? Do you suppose he was uncomfortable arriving ahead of our party and chose to stay with another acquaintance? Who owns the place? Do you know, Edward?”
Edward’s color deepened. “It is the residence of a man who calls himself Colonel O’Kelly.”
Diana was thoroughly befuddled. “I don’t understand. Who is this man to Reggie? And why would he be there when he knew we were all expected here?”
“I only know of him, Diana, and regrettably, nothing good. He is a noted turf man and notorious blackleg. He is also the owner of Eclipse.”
“Then mayhap that explains it. Reggie had entertained thoughts of breeding Cartimandua, although I hear the stud fee for Eclipse is extortionate.”
“I cannot answer, but DeVere, Hew, and I shall ride over after supper and retrieve your errant spouse.”
“Why do we not all go?” she asked.
“Because Clay Hill is no fit place for a lady of good repute.”
“Oh?” She arched her brow with a frown. “And why is that? I would know more of this, Edward.”
“Then I defer to DeVere.” He offered an arm to each lady. “For now I’m famished, so let us descend to supper.”
***
In their brief exchange before repairing to dine, Diana found Caroline, Duchess of Beauclerc jealous, possessive, and overweening with her own worth. Toward Annalee, she was warm, if a trifle condescending, but the moment she laid eyes on Diana, or more aptly, the instant DeVere had, her steely gaze shot daggers. Thenceforth, the duchess sought every opportunity to disparage her seeming rival.
“Do you plan another sojourn in town before your return to the country, Lady P? It seems you had little time to catch up on the latest fashions. I could recommend a number of places to you.” The duchess smiled. “A friseur, perhaps?”
Diana’s hand flew to her hair before she realized she had risen to the bait. While the duchess was undoubtedly more richly attired, stylishly coiffed, and extravagantly bejeweled, Diana knew that her own simplicity of hair, gown, and pearls showed her off to far better advantage. She smoothed back an errant curl and flashed—she hoped—a confident smile. “I know ‘tis the fashion in London and Paris, but as a taller woman, I do not favor the high headdress, Your Grace. Besides, with the daily running of an estate, I have not so much leisure to indulge my vanity.”
Caroline flicked a scathing look over Diana’s gown. “A daring cut for a woman of your proportions. I shall have a footman fetch you a shawl. One would hate for you to catch a chill.”
“I am perfectly comfortable,” Diana replied.
“Nevertheless—”
“You needn’t trouble yourself, Caroline,” DeVere interjected. “As host, my guests’ comfort is my concern.” He turned to Diana with a burning look that made her pulse skitter. “Should you later grow chilly, dear lady, you need only whisper the word, and I shall command every hearth in this monstrosity be lit. I would rather set my entire house aflame than cover such a magnificent…” His gaze raked over Diana’s bosom with an appreciative gleam. “…gown.”
The duchess looked apoplectic. Though Diana tried at first to suppress it, and then to stifle it behind her hand, she simply couldn’t contain the ripples, and for the first time in distant memory, Diana erupted in full-bodied mirth. Although Annalee had warned her of DeVere’s dangerous charm, she never could have imagined her own susceptibility to it. His blue eyes glittering with devilment, DeVere joined in her gale of laugher and forgoing protocol, took Diana’s hand to lead her into supper, leaving his brother Hewett to escort the fuming duchess.