His nose was healing, but the yellow and green marks would take another week or so to fade.
“No thank you for the tea, Ambassador. I have just broken my fast.”
“Ah yes, you English ladies like to, how do you say, loll about in bed?”
There was no point in arguing the point. The man had some definite ideas about her country and its residents. She was not here to act as ambassador for England. “Yes. Sometimes.”
The Ambassador leaned forward in his chair and placed his arms on the desk. She was already uncomfortable with the way he kept eyeing her. “What brings you here this morning, Miss Sanford?”
She tried her sweetest, most innocuous mien. “I wish to apologize for Mr. Rose’s actions at the inn last week.”
The Ambassador scowled. “He is a rude man. I meant no harm. I was merely offering some attention to a beautiful young woman.”
That was hardly the case, but either the Ambassador didn’t remember what he’d done, or his idea of how to offer a young lady his attentions was not part of the etiquette book she’d studied with her governess.
She smiled. “I hope we can continue to be friends.”
“What about Mr. Rose? Why was he so forceful?”
Lydia crossed her fingers in her lap, about to spew out falsehoods. She waved her hand in the air. “Mr. Rose is of the mind that I welcome his attentions, and therefore is of the opinion that he must be my champion.” She lowered her eyelashes and looked at the Ambassador, offering a sultry smile. “Even when I do not need it.”
Gads. The look he threw her almost brought up her breakfast. Perhaps she had overdone it. She only wanted to be granted access to him so she could hear his conversations, not encourage him to think there could ever be anything of an intimate nature between them.
Before she could get in any deeper, she stood. The man hopped up, also. “I believe I have taken up enough of your time.”
“Not at all, Miss Sanford.” He followed her as she turned and headed to the door, anxious to be away. He reached out and took her arm. “I should like you to accompany me to the theater one evening.” He raised her hand to his mouth and placed a kiss there. She wanted to rub her glove against her cape.
When she didn’t answer, he added. “Thursday. I shall call at your home at seven o’clock.”
Since it sounded more like an order than an invitation, she nodded. “Yes. That sounds most pleasant.”
The young man who had shown her to his office stood outside the door. He bowed again. Then turning on his heel, he marched off, and Lydia followed.
Oh, dear God. What had she gotten herself into? Dante would be furious. Perhaps she could beg off with a megrim. Which she probably would have by Thursday.
Dante hopped from the carriage the minute he saw Lydia exit the building. She hurried up to him and gave him a strange smile.
“What did he say to you? Did he touch you?” he growled. “I’ll go back in there—”
Lydia grabbed his arm and they climbed into the carriage. “Nothing bad happened. It’s all fine.”
The carriage began to move forward, and he straightened his jacket and glared at her. “Why do I have the feeling you’re hiding something?”
She sighed and looked out the window. “The Ambassador was very gracious and accepted the apology I offered. At least I think he did.” She waved her hand. “Anyway, he seemed fine.”
“That was it? Nothing else happened? Why do I still think there is more to this story?”
“Because he invited me to the theater Thursday evening.”
He frowned, not at all liking her demeanor. “And you said no, of course.”
She glared at him. “There really was no way to say no. He just assumed I was willing and told me he would arrive at my house at seven o’clock on Thursday evening to escort me.”
“I’m going, too.”
“You weren’t invited.”
“I don’t care.”