Chapter Eight
“How was she, really?” Diana asked Eliza as the carriage set off. “We went over a few things on the way to the palace, but I wasn’t sure if she’d remember everything.”
“You prepared her expertly. There were a few girls waiting in line who snubbed her because they didn’t know who she was, but after the queen showed her such marked attention, those selfsame girls wanted to ask her a hundred questions.”
“And you told them you were sorry, but Lady Rosabel had to go prepare for her début dinner tonight. Because they weren’t invited, they are now all the more eager to find out who this upstart is, and why she warrants the attention of Elegant Occasions. Everyone knows by now how particular we are about whom we accept as clients.”
“What they don’t know is that we err on the side of preferring ones who are interesting and pleasant to work for,” Eliza said.
“And who pay attention,” Diana said.
“Precisely.” Eliza grinned. “To be honest, I think the queen was impressed that Rosy could curtsy so well. I was impressed. That girl gave the perfect curtsy—her back straight, her head lowered in deference, and her two feet precisely placed to allow the correct dip. The only person I’ve seen do it better was Verity. If not for her sneeze . . .”
“I know. It was such a shame. It has made Verity so skittish.”
“In any case, you would have been very proud of Rosy.”
“Which is how I always wish to feel when everything is said and done. That’s why I like clients who pay attention.”
“So why, exactly, if not that you fancy him, did you take on the intractable duke’s education in proper behavior?”
Diana struggled not to reveal her feelings. “He’s not intractable. He’s just . . . overconfident. And dismissive of the things we value.” She could feel Eliza searching her face. “Besides, you were the one who said he was important. That we should most certainly treat him well.”
“Is that why you allowed him to sit in this carriage with you at risk to your reputation?”
“What risk? There were scores of footmen around and every window of the carriage was open. Besides, he was only in it for a few minutes. And it is his carriage, after all.”
Wonderful. Now she was parroting the duke’s words and stretching the truth with her sister.
“Diana,” Eliza said in a low voice, “be careful. Don’t let his lack of ability to be a courtier fool you. Grenwood isn’t a typical lord in any respect. There’s . . . a darkness in him that worries me. He has secrets.”
Yes, he did. Even Diana knew that. “Everyone has secrets. Or have you forgotten Papa’s temper when he’s drinking, or Mama’s many flirtations meant to make Papa jealous? None of us is perfect.” When Eliza said nothing, she added, in as light a tone as she could muster, “And in any case, there’s nothing going on between us.” Not yet anyway.
“Very well.” Eliza reached past her hoops, which were rather constraining, to pat Diana’s hand. “Just remember, if you need me, I am there, no matter what.”
Diana squeezed her hand. “Of course.”
As for secrets, Diana would have to keep her plans to seduce Grenwood very, very private. Eliza wouldn’t approve of her plans and might even tell Papa. Diana wasn’t as sure about Verity, but Verity might tell Eliza, and then it would be the same result as if Diana told Eliza herself.
And Diana did want to seduce Grenwood. When he’d kissed her, she’d felt such stirrings in her blood that she could only imagine how much more she would feel if he went beyond kissing. That is, if he were susceptible to seduction. He did look at her with interest—she couldn’t deny that. So she hoped he’d be amenable to bedding her.
Oh, that sounded very naughty, didn’t it? But she couldn’t help it—she wanted to be naughty with the duke. She just wasn’t entirely sure how to go about enticing him into her bed.
Should she drop flirtatious hints and leave him to make his own conclusions?
No, he might think she wanted to trap him into marriage and then avoid her even more than he had the last three weeks. He was, after all, a gentleman.
Should she offer herself and let him do the rest?
No, because if he turned her down, she would be forever mortified. And what if he told someone? Good Lord, but she would never be able to raise her head in public again.
Honestly, she didn’t know the best way to proceed. She’d simply have to think about it more. There must be a way to convey her interest to him without sending him running from the room as he had after their first—their only—kiss.
But she had no more time to ponder it. Eliza wanted to discuss some last-minute issues about the music to be played after dinner. Then they arrived at Grenwood House, and from that moment on, everything involved Rosy’s début dinner.
As usual, Eliza spent a great deal of time talking to the quartet of musicians about the pieces to be played. Verity was in the kitchen making sure the wine, port, and flavored waters were ready, along with the dinner itself. That left Diana to oversee everything else, what felt like a hundred last-minute details with the dining room and Rosy’s attire.
At last she ended up in the dining room, making sure the china and silverware she’d chosen for the dinner had been correctly placed.