Ashcroft and Diana approached the impressive staircase with its gilt railings. He noted that she looked around with interest but no awe. Even members of the ton were rendered speechless when confronted with the spectacle that was Perry’s home. Diana treated her expensive and luxurious surroundings like a diverting trifle.
He couldn’t quite place her in the social scale, which was intriguing as he’d learned in leading strings how to assess people’s stations. She spoke with cultured accents and had practiced manners. Yet something hinted at fancy dress, as if playing the fine lady wasn’t her normal occupation.
Devil take her, she was nothing but shadows and secrets.
And temptation.
Her warmth curled out to lure him as he escorted her up the staircase, past the floor with the huge ballroom. Finally, they stopped outside a closed door.
“Lord Peregrine made these rooms available for your use, my lord.” The footman opened the door as calmly as if hosting his employer’s friends and their lovers was a normal part of his duties. Perhaps it was. Perry had a huge number of disreputable acquaintances, with notable names and without. “He also requested we keep the library ready.”
Unlike the rest of the house, the room spoke of charming, almost feminine, simplicity. A small dining table perched under the large window, and on the sideboard, an elaborate supper waited, including champagne in melting ice.
“Thank you.” Reluctantly, Ashcroft released Diana and moved inside. She remained poised on the threshold, as if unsure whether she stayed.
Stay…
“What is your name?” Diana asked their guide.
“Robert, madam.” He bowed with a respect that seemed incongruous, considering he must know why she was here.
Or perhaps he, like Ashcroft, noticed her natural distinction. Could she come from a great family? Somehow that didn’t fit. Neither did his original assumption that she was a tradesman’s wife out to spend her husband’s copious blunt.
“Shall I show you through the apartment? Beyond this sitting room, there’s a bedroom, a dressing room, and a bathroom.”
Diana’s eyes settled on Ashcroft and something in the gray depths told him she read his burgeoning hunger. “No, thank you, Robert. We have all we require.”
“Madam. My lord.” He bowed again. “The staff are at your disposal.”
Ashcroft hardly noticed him leave. Instead, his eyes followed Diana, who strolled across to drop her bonnet on a low mahogany chair. The air swirled with unspoken desire.
She sent him a faint smile, and while her color was higher than usual, her eyes didn’t waver. She knew as well as he what would happen in this elegant room.
She flicked back her untidy tumble of hair. “Alone at last.”
Chapter Eight
Diana felt like a cat on top of a stove. She wanted Ashcroft to touch her again. She wanted it more than she wanted to live to see the sun rise tomorrow.
How quickly she’d adopted a mistress’s role. The change would have terrified her, if she hadn’t been so edgy with need. Her heart battered her chest, and craving pricked her skin.
He pushed the bedroom door open. “Come with me.”
Diana trailed after him as he prowled across to lean against one bedpost. Behind him the huge four-poster bed loomed large and ornate, like everything else in this house. In contrast, even Cranston Abbey’s baroque excesses seemed restrained.
The room must overlook a rose garden. Sweet fragrance lay heavy on the air. The perfume was heady, almost as heady as the desire flowing through her veins.
His green eyes settled unwaveringly on her. There was something predatory about Lord Ashcroft. She shivered with anticipation as she imagined him seizing her and devouring her.
Oh, yes, please.
She licked parched lips. His eyes glinted as they dropped to her mouth before returning to meet hers. It was as if he’d kissed her. Her heart, already galloping, kicked up a notch.
He untied his neckcloth, his tanned hand dark against the snowy white linen. What had happened in the carriage had been wild, fiery, overwhelming. What happened now promised to hurl her into a new world.
She wasn’t sure she was ready. With every second, it became clear she was no longer in charge of the ship of her life. The winds of passion pushed her far from harbor. Now she drifted, lost in turbulent seas of desire.
Ashcroft dropped h