Devilish Page 0,27
of last year, or to continue the flirtation after the wedding, but she had expected something. Something she could tentatively build on to reach, at least, an interesting kiss.
Instead, she could have been one of his sisters. In fact, though he'd been scrupulously polite, he'd been somewhat warmer with his sisters!
The dancing party had consisted of four ladies and four gentlemen - a comfortable number, allowing for lines and circles. The ladies had changed partners with every dance, but in such a small group, she and the marquess had met, turned, and passed again and again.
The result?
Not even a look to match the moment when he'd slid that poppy stem down her bodice.
She'd managed to once sit by him between dances - and they'd talked about the weather! She'd learned more than she cared to know about the causes of climatic variations around England, and its influence on national prosperity. She had the lowering thought that the marquess had been deliberately trying to bore her.
As Clara stripped her out of her most becoming gown - deep blue satin trimmed with blonde, and very low in the bodice - Diana accepted that he'd flirted with her earlier in the playful spirit of a country wedding. That was all. She'd read too much into it. The Marquess of Rothgar thought nothing of her. Why should he? They were mere acquaintances.
She slipped into her silk nightgown and sat to let Clara brush her hair. As always, it soothed her and restored her sense of balance and humor.
It couldn't wipe away embarrassment, however. Elf had guessed some of her feelings. Pray heaven no one else had, especially the marquess. She pushed aside the knowledge that the man had a reputation of being devilishly perceptive. Thank heavens he'd be gone soon.
She couldn't entirely crush disappointment, however.
When she dismissed Clara, she drank a glass of water while looking out over her dark domain by the light of a swelling three-quarter moon. Mistress of all she surveyed, yet mistress of no man. She laid the cool glass against her cheek, trying to chill the gnawing dissatisfaction stirred by the wedding, and by a year that had brought great changes. The day after tomorrow the Mallorens would be on their way and she would be left to peace and routine.
It seemed as bleak a future as life on the chilly moon. Didn't they say that all treasures lost or neglected on earth were stored there? Abandoned dreams, lost hopes, wasted opportunities, and tragic loves. And the full moon was her symbol, symbol of the goddess Diana. Perhaps she had been destined for this from birth.
Oh, nonsense. The world doubtless contained a great many happily married Dianas.
She turned toward the bed, but saw the paper that Elf had sent earlier. She'd put it aside when called upon to deal with a question about wine. She broke the seal and unfolded the thin leaflet within. A tract? A sermon on self-control and chastity?
Then she read the simple, direct text which was even accompanied by a few drawings to aid those who might struggle to read it. Shocked, she put the leaflet down. But then she picked it up again and read it through.
Fascinating.
As she read, however, she smiled wryly. One thing was sure: Elf did not expect her to lose her remaining ignorance with Lord Rothgar. He must surely know all these interesting techniques.
Chapter 8
It seemed in keeping with the snarled state of Diana's life that she woke the next morning to the splatter of rain on her window. A glance showed the sort of sullen gray sky that offered no hope for her carefully planned outdoor pursuits. Now, when she wanted to be rid of the Mallorens, she'd have them underfoot all day.
With a sigh, she rang for Clara and considered indoor occupations. The billiard table might amuse the gentlemen, and perhaps some of the ladies played. Would the ladies be content all day with chat, music, and cards? What would the children do? Though she'd had the nursery floor freshened and prepared for them, she had not expected to provide entertainments. Wondering what had happened to her childhood toys, she sent for her housekeeper.
Darkling thoughts of the uninterested marquess caused her to choose a simple dress of buff and green and to fill in the low neckline with a demure fichu. There. If he held any suspicions about her desires last night, this outfit should allay them.
She ate breakfast while dealing with papers and household matters