Millbrae Valley thought, but it would likely cause a stir should his family ever find out.
But he would jump that fence when he came to it.
After the play, he took her out for a late supper. She continued to charm him with her openness, her candor. Flirting came naturally to her; it wasn't something she had learned at school, or studied in front of her looking glass.
By the time his carriage drew up outside her home, his decision had been made.
"Thank you for a lovely evening," Rhianna said.
"It was my pleasure," Dallon replied gallantly. He kissed her hand and then, unable to help himself, he drew her into his arms and kissed her.
Rhianna closed her eyes as his lips touched hers. It was a pleasant kiss, gentle, tender. Unbidden came the thought that, while Montroy's kiss was pleasurable, it had no fire. Comparing Montroy's kiss to Rayven's was like comparing the warmth of a firefly to the warmth of the sun.
His arm tightened around her briefly before he let her go. "Will I see you tomorrow night?"
"If you wish."
"Seven?"
Rhianna nodded.
"Good night, Miss McLeod."
"Good night, my lord."
He came for her promptly at seven the following evening, and every night for a week thereafter. They went to a ball at Lord Tewksbury's, to supper in the city, to another play, to the opera.
As much as she enjoyed Montroy's company, she couldn't help feeling that she didn't belong in the crowd he associated with. They dined with barons and counts. Once, she found herself dancing with an earl. On the outside, she knew she looked as though she belonged. The gowns Rayven had bought her were every bit as costly and fashionable as those of the other women. Thanks to the training she had received at the convent, she knew how to behave at the dinner table, which fork to use with which course, but on the inside, she was still a country girl, unsure of herself, in awe of the highborn men and women who were Montroy's contemporaries.
She said as much one night, at supper.
"Nonsense," Montroy exclaimed. "There's no shame in being born poor."
"But..."
"I'll hear no more of it," Dallon said firmly. He took her hand in his. "You're more beautiful than any of them, Rhianna. You have no need to feel inferior simply because your father was a farmer and not an earl. Don't forget, Gaskell wasn't always an earl. Not all of us are born to our titles."
Rhianna smiled at him, reassured, at least for the moment. "Will I see you tomorrow night?" she asked.
Dallon shook his head. "I'm afraid not. I've agreed to meet Tewksbury and Rayven at Cotyer's."
The mere mention of his name caused a sharp pain in her heart.
"Is something wrong?" Montroy asked. "You look pale of a sudden."
"I feel a headache coming on," Rhianna said apologetically. "Would you mind if we went home?"
"Of course not." He summoned the waiter, took care of the bill, and wrapped her cloak around her shoulders.
Minutes later, she was comfortably settled in his coach, a blanket over her lap. She closed her eyes to discourage any conversation and all the while, in the back of her mind, she heard Montroy's voice telling her he was meeting Rayven tomorrow night. She wished she had the nerve to follow Montroy to Cotyer's so that she might see Rayven again, if only from a distance.
She bid Montroy good night and went into the house. Standing at the window, she watched his coach pull away. Overcome by a terrible sadness, she removed her cloak and went into the bedroom she shared with Lanna. Montroy cared for her. He might even ask for her hand in marriage, but she knew she would never love him as she loved Rayven.
Why had he sent her away? After living at the convent in Paris, she understood what it was like to be lonely, to be different from those around you. She knew, from the rumors she had heard, from things Rayven himself had said, that he felt estranged from society, though she didn't understand why. Was there some incident in his past that made him feel inferior?
She told herself it didn't matter, that she didn't care. He had sent her away, first to Paris, and then away from the castle, sent her away and told her, nay, warned her, never to return.
So be it, she thought, blinking back tears she refused to shed. If he didn't want her, she knew someone who did.