Page 40 of A Duke for Diana
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—theironly—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.
“I see you’ve chosen to have the dinner inside after all.”
She jumped, having not expected the duke to be roaming around quite yet. “You really enjoy keeping me on my toes, don’t you?”
“That’s only fair,” he grumbled. “You enjoy making me pay for things I would normally never buy.”
“Like what?” she asked, turning to face him.
My oh my, what a mistake. He looked unbearably handsome in his tailcoat of jet superfine wool, his waistcoat of a blue silk so pale it appeared almost white, and his tight pantaloons of jet kerseymere. If she’d been a less hardy female, she would have swooned.
Instead, she dragged in a calming breath. “What exactly have I forced you to pay for?”
“Having the ballroom floor chalked for tonight, for one thing. And Argand lamps installed in the dining room and drawing room, for another.”
“The chalking of the ballroom floor is for the ball and not for tonight. Trust me, it is—”
“Very expensive,” he put in. “And what the devil is chalking anyway, that it costs so much? I assume you put chalk on the floor to keep people from slipping around when they dance, but even so, chalk is cheap.”
She wondered if the play on words was intentional. Probably, judging from the gleam in his eyes. “In the case of Rosy’s début ball, it’s more than that. Certain artists chalk floors by creating chalk images: figures dancing, landscapes, pretty designs . . . things of that nature. I haven’t met with the chalking fellow yet, but I thought we could have him create a design in honor of the bridges you build. Wouldn’t that be lovely?”
He narrowed his gaze on her. “I suppose, but it would also be gone within an hour of the ball’s beginning.”
“That’s the point. Have you never heard it said that people ‘danced out’ the chalk? It’s special precisely because it doesn’t last. It would be like . . .” She tried to think of an example. “Like having someone sing a song at a musicale. Once it’s sung, that particular rendition of the song is gone, too, is it not? This is the same idea, but with art. It will make a grand impression—chalk images on ballroom floors are very popular with eligible young men and women at present.” When he winced, she added, “But only if you approve. Although if you don’t, you should say so now, before I meet with the chalking fellow tomorrow.”
After a bit, he muttered a curse under his breath. “If it’s just for the ball, I suppose it’s all right.”
“It’s just for the ball,” she echoed him. “Tonight we’re using only the formal drawing room for dancing, so there will be no chalking. And the drawing room is more intimate for dancing anyway.”
“Intimate! Thirty people have accepted the invitation to this ‘intimate dinner entertainment.’”
“We’ve invited two hundred to Rosy’s ball in a couple of weeks.”
He gaped at her. “You’re joking.”
“Not a bit. The ball needs to be a crush if Rosy is to become the toast of London, and your ballroom easily holds a hundred and fifty.” She narrowed her gaze on him. “Your mother said you had approved the number to invite.”
“If I did, I don’t remember.” He paused, as if to reconsider. “I do vaguely recall agreeing to the Argand lamps.”
“On your way out to some meeting of bridge investors, no doubt,” she said archly. “But you won’t regret the purchase. Have you been in to look at the drawing room now that the lamps have been lit?” When he shook his head no, she said, “They make it so much brighter than it was. And once they light them in here, you’ll be able to see your food clearly for a change.”
“I don’t need to see it clearly as long as it’s edible.”
Trying not to laugh, she shook her head. “You’re hopeless.”
“So you say.” He squared his shoulders and tried to look snobbish. “Yet nearly every person invited to this intimate dinner entertainment accepted the invitation, and given thatIwas the one officially sending out the invitations . . .”
“Before all those acceptances swell your head too greatly,” she said, “I should tell you that Verity’s meals are rapidly becoming legendary. She knows precisely how to make the food come out at its peak of perfection, and how to choose food and drink that gentlemen of a certain age enjoy.Thatis why they’re all attending.”
“Gentlemen of a certain age?”
“Married fathers of titled and wealthy gentlemen.”
