Page 52 of A Wanton Adventure
A few hours later, Devons dropped his pen and stretched. He’d finished writing his next letter to the London newspapers about Porto. Of their two ports so far, Porto by far had been the best, but he wasn’t sure if he felt that way because Diana had loved it so much. He’d been amused at her love of a city that in some ways seemed the exact opposite of her proper world in London.
Did she know that so much of what was found in Porto could be found in the city she lived in if one knew where to look? He smiled and looked down at his note.
To the Ladies of London,
What greeted us in Porto should be seen by all of you fine ladies. A romantic city with a hint of darkness. At this stop, we learned about a vengeful love-sick king who did everything to show his adoration for the woman he loved. Then of course, a visit to this lovelorn city is not complete without attending an opera at the Teatro do Principe. I fear Lady Hensley enjoyed that more than I.
We finished the visit with a trip to the countryside to learn about the process of making one of the finest drinks, port. Lady Hensley may be upset with me for revealing this, but I dare say even she enjoyed a sip.
Sebastian Devons.
Chapter Fifteen
Laughter and chatterechoed through the dining saloon as everyone ate the final course of dinner. Diana glanced down to the end of the table she was seated at. Devons was speaking with a man who accompanied them on the port-tasting excursion. Diana wondered what they were discussing. Devons smiled and smacked the man on the back. The man let out a bellowing laugh that was drowned out by all other noises in the room.
Frowning, she looked down at her plate. Devons hadn’t spoken more than a greeting to her since Porto. Had she done something wrong? It irked her that she was so worried about the distance between them when he seemed content. Everyone started to stand. Messina, who was seated next to her, offered his arm. She smiled at the attractive count.
He escorted her to the main saloon. “I shall return after I visit the smoking saloon.”
Diana nodded. “Thank you.”
After he left, Diana walked back out the door of the saloon and made her way to the weather deck, seeking air. She stood at the railing, enjoying the wind on her face. A handful of other passengers wandered about, and she smiled at them but didn’t engage them any further. It disconcerted her how much not speaking with Devons bothered her.
She frowned, knowing her feelings were foolish. The man lived a vastly different life than she did. This infatuation she had with him was something he dealt with all the time fromwomen in London. They’d agreed to a friendship and nothing more. Diana needed to be happy with that. Yet for some reason, she was skeptical that he didn’t feel more. Their kiss continued to linger in her mind. A loud sigh escaped her. She was tired of thinking about Devons.
Diana needed to return to the saloon. Her aunt and Messina would be looking for her. As she turned, she spied a man smoking a cigar. Her eyes narrowed. It was Devons, standing at the railing. He’d said nothing, instead choosing to watch her contemplate life. Annoyed, she marched over to him and said, “Why aren’t you talking to me?”
He brought the cigar to his lips and took another puff. “I have no idea what you mean, Diana.”
Well, at least they hadn’t resorted to being formal with each other. “You have barely spoken to me since Porto.”
He sighed and ran a hand through his black hair. “What do you want me to say?”
“There is a distance between us, and I feel like you are intentionally creating it.”
Tension swirled around them. He stamped out his cigar. “I apologize that I have no interest in watching Messina and Monroe flirt with you.”
“Are you jealous?” she asked, the words escaping her before she had time to think if they were appropriate.
He frowned before stepping closer to her. “How could I not be?”
A mad thought sprung into her mind. She wanted to declare that she chose him for her flirtation. As if reading her thoughts, he said, “I want you, Diana, but I believe we both know any interlude between us would only lead to trouble.”
She didn’t understand him. He had dozens of liaisons, probably more. “Are you worried I will become too emotionallyinvolved? That I’m not sophisticated enough to be one of your lovers.”
He was silent for a minute and Diana stopped herself from demanding he say something. Eventually, he said, “I’m not the right man for you. Have your fling or flirtation with someone you never have to see again. Nothing on this trip is real. But when you return to London, you and I will have to see each other often because of the Historical Society for Female Curators. I don’t want any awkwardness to exist between us.”
Diana frowned at him. “So, you do think I’m not worldly enough for you.”
Hurt and embarrassment welled in her, and not wanting Devons to see any of it, she spun on her heels, heading to the door leading to the saloon level. Diana heard Devons curse, and his footsteps followed her. Before she reached the steps, he stopped her with his hand. “Wait.”
She took a deep breath and turned back to him, willing her humiliation away. “Yes.”
He ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m making a mess of this. We are better off as friends. I value and respect you more than most individuals I know. I don’t want to ruin that. But you deserve to live a little. You should have a flirtation with someone.”
“With Messina?”
He clenched his jaw and bit out, “With whomever you desire.”
