Page 30 of One Night for Seduction
“Legally?” She gaped at him. “Dishonest vendors are the ones who—”
“You are not a magistrate,” he reminded her, “or an armed Runner, or a member of the House.”
“You’re trying to—”
“I’m trying toprotectyou,” he burst out. “Can’t you see that? I admire where your heart is. I admire that you put the good of the people above yourself. I love that you eschew complaisance in favor of investigation and facts and progress. But I cannot let you—”
“You cannot ‘let’ me do anything,” she spat, “because you do not own me, and you never will. You don’t even see the hypocrisy. Men have the freedom to dress in regimentals to risk their lives at war, yet I cannot don a plain bonnet or weigh a bushel of corn?”
“Diana—”
“What would you have me do?” She threw out her hands, her eyes and tone bleak. “Spend the next four decades painting insipid watercolors and fretting over the art of perfect ringlets?”
“I—”
“No,” she said dully. “Don’t answer. If that’s your vision for me, I don’t want to know.”
She spun away from him and waved a hand toward an oncoming hack.
In one step, he was at her side. “My coach is across the street. Let me take you home.”
“You can’t,” she said, blue eyes accusing. “The Duke of Colehaven alone with frumpy Miss Middleton? What would people think?”
With that, she disappeared into the hack and closed the door.
Chapter 11
Diana had never felt less like being at a soirée.
Her spine was pressed against the farthest wall from the dancing, but her mind had never left the Duke of Colehaven. A dozen hours had passed since their confrontation, but her fingers still shook at the memory.
She had beenfortunateto have been caught by Colehaven and not someone else. For all their impassioned disagreements, he was perhaps the one soul in all of England who would keep her secret without taking action against her.
Diana’s spine straightened. Perhaps Thaddeus was the answer. She hated that her unwed state was holding her cousin back from seeking love of his own. But what if they could both have what they wanted?
When Diana had been orphaned, Thad had not hesitated to take her in as her guardian. He also guarded the dowry that Diana’s father had set aside for her future husband. When she had first been presented to society, Thad had denied her request for the money to be transferred to her instead. His duty was to see her married. No further argument allowed.
But that was then. She’d been a debutante, not a spinster. What if Thad could finally be talked into turning over the dowry money?
By ton standards, the nominal sum was pitiably humble. But Diana did not plan to live a lavish life. If she could rent a simple room somewhere out of society’s sight, her unconventional behavior would not bring scandal to Thad’s name or reputation.
In fact, she could perhaps even become the exact thing she’d been pretending to be: the right hand of a barrister or magistrate who sought to improve England’s laws and ability to enforce them.
She grinned in delight. Then there wouldn’t be anything to unmask. She’d just be a woman, doing her job. Improving her world.Openly. Giddy excitement filled her at the image.
“The Duke of Colehaven,” boomed the butler from the top of the stairs.
Diana’s smile froze in place, but the rest of her body flushed with heat at the sight. Her damnable attraction to Colehaven was not just a matter of wide shoulders in a coat of black superfine, boyish dark locks curling over his forehead, or that magnetic, arrogant stride.
It was the rest of him that hooked her. TheI personally push for reformand theI’m trying to protect you. The tavern he cofounded to create a space for men to be equal. And yes, the searing memory of unforgettable kisses with their bodies locked together.
If she could draw, her journals would be decorated with illustrated likenesses alongside the faithful transcriptions of their most important conversations.
Excluding the moments where physical desire overtook good sense, of course. Some moments were not meant to be written about, but rather to be relived time and again in the privacy of her mind.
She pushed away from the wall and headed toward the refreshment table. A glass of ratafia would give her something to do with her hands other than wish for another chance to sink them into his hair. Their mouths might be at war, but the rest of their bodies were too compatible for comfort.
“I wondered if you’d come.”
