Page 70 of Anything But a Duke
The séance wasn’t truly the point of this evening. Matchmaking was why they’d come.
“Speak to us,” the medium droned.
Diana drew in a long breath and chastised herself. She had no right to loathe the notion of Aidan marrying her closest schoolmate, but she did. Sitting across from them, staring at their clasped hands, a sickening mix of emotions built inside her. Jealousy was easy. That green biting envy welled up quickly.
But fear came too, and a gnawing uncertainty.
She hadn’t quite worked out all that she felt for Aidan. She only knew that he made her feel. Not calculate or plan or engineer. Just feel. And, unexpectedly, she wanted more.
“A man. A father. He wishes to speak to the young lordling.”
Egerton’s fingers tightened on her hand and Diana winced.
“He says you must not squander the family’s fortune.”
“How dare you?” Egerton shot up from his chair.
Diana reclaimed her hand and rubbed at the spot where he’d pinched her.
“Lord Egerton, please sit down.” Bess was using the no-nonsense tone she’d employed as a volunteer matron in their dormitory at Bexley. “You did know the evening could be provoking. I warned everyone.”
Egerton scowled and remained standing. “I do not wish to be provoked by a charlatan.”
All eyes shifted to the medium.
“What the lady said was a very impertinent thing to say,” Miss Ives put in, her voice soft and youthful. “She should apologize.”
Diana knew from long acquaintance that Bess Thorndyke could be a stubborn young woman.
“You are interrupting the spirits, Lord Egerton,” Bess said in a cool, clear voice. “If you no longer wish to participate, feel free to depart.”
“Elizabeth,” Miss Ives squeaked. “Samuel is to be my husband and part of our family.”
“I cannot work in such discord,” the medium said tightly. “The spirits will not come.”
Bess pushed her chair back and stood. “Would you excuse us, Diana and Mr. Iverson? I would like to speak to my cousin and Lord Egerton a moment.”
They stood and shuffled from the darkened room. Diana stepped into the drawing room where they’d gathered before the séance and Aidan followed close behind. He pulled the pocket doors almost shut behind them.
Diana sensed unspoken words from him. A strange energy buzzed in the air. She glanced at the carpet, the wallpaper, a gilded painting glowing in the light of a candlelit sconce.
“Bess likes you,” finally made it through her lips. It wasn’t what she wished to say. Only the words she knew she should say.
“How can you tell?” he asked, stepping toward the wall to examine a vivid painting of a battlefield.
“The way she looks at you is telling.”
“How does she look at me, Diana?” He turned back to face her, those searching green eyes of his scanning her face.
“As if she’s pleased with what she sees.”
He grinned. A tantalizing flash of white. A cool shiver chased down Diana’s spine, but other parts of her warmed. Her neck, her chest, and lower all the way to her thighs. To her very center.
“And you?” He had the audacity to quirk one auburn brow.
The scoundrel knew the answer.
“Sometimes I like you a great deal, Mr. Iverson.”
