Page 66 of Anything But a Duke
“I did.” Diana dipped her head and stared at the cobblestones. He half expected her to take the admission back. When she looked at him, however, her gaze was resolute. “But we had an agreement, Mr. Iverson. You’ve kept your part of our bargain and I must keep mine.”
“Agreements can be nullified. Altered.” He didn’t want to talk about bloody business. He was well aware of what he’d agreed to, but here in this moment with her, he didn’t want money and matchmaking between them. He only wanted her.
“Tomorrow evening at seven. Can you take me in your carriage?”
Aidan swallowed hard at the images her question evoked. “Take you where?”
“The home of Lady Elizabeth Thorndyke and her father, the Marquess of Merton. They are hosting a spectacle of sorts and I’ve secured an invitation. I’m allowed to bring one guest.”
Aidan frowned. “What sort of spectacle?”
She smiled back, and it was warm and open enough to give him hope. “Based on your taste in reading material, I think you’ll approve. Lady Elizabeth is quite fond of ghost stories and specters and has decided to host a séance.”
Aidan had heard of the faddish entertainment and its popularity with some in London society, but he’d never considered attending one himself. But an evening spent in Diana’s company? “Very well. I’ll come for you at half past six.”
Chapter Nineteen
“Oh.”
That was the single word Aidan got out. Not even a word, really. Just a sound. A gasp of air.
Diana descended the stairs of her family’s Cadogan Square home in a purple dress that hugged her curves as closely as he wished to. She’d arranged her hair in a pile of lovely curls that framed her face. But it was the look in her eyes that set his pulse racing.
She looked pleased to see him, her blue gaze lit with warmth.
He’d feared after the way they’d parted the day before that she’d wish to forget their kiss. But her eyes—lingering on him, open and eager—said otherwise.
He told himself to stop gaping, that they needed to depart for the Marquess of Merton’s town house soon or risk being late. But there was no place else he wished to be.
“It may seem as if I’ve overdressed for this event.”
“No, it does not.”
She smiled. “Bess is rather exacting about fashion.”
“Bess?”
“Lady Elizabeth.”
Ah yes. The agreement that once made so much sense and now held as much appeal as a lifetime of nights spent at the opera.
Except, of course, there was the guarantee. He should never have asked her to offer herself up as a bride if he could make no match with the other ladies. Now, it was becoming increasingly clear that was the option he’d always preferred.
Diana Ashby drew him. She always had. Her confidence. Her fearlessness. From the moment they’d met. She’d drawn him with a pull as powerful as one of the magnets in her workshop. And now he knew with certainty that no duke’s daughter or any other woman would ever intrigue him as she did.
Of course, he still harbored ambitions too. Almost every day the newspapers featured details about the exhibition being planned, and he was no closer to gaining entry to the Parthenon club or Lord Lockwood’s good graces.
But none of that changed how much he wanted to kiss Diana again.
The question was whether she wanted the same.
“I’ve prepared a few notes.” She lifted a slip of paper from a reticule dangling from her wrist and offered it to him.
“Of course you have.” He overreached when he extended his hand. Desperate to touch her, he let his fingers linger against hers a moment before retrieving the folded square of paper.
She didn’t retreat, and he savored the little catch in her breath.
He looked down at the careful lines of ink and could barely muster an ounce of interest in the list of Lady Elizabeth Thorndyke’s hobbies.
