for the finality of that,” he said wryly. “It’s not terribly flattering.”
“I beg you, sir, this is no jest,” she pleaded. “You must forget that this has ever happened between us, else I shall be quite ruined, and disappoint all those who care most for me.”
“Very well, then. You have my word of honor that no one will ever hear of this.” With his hand still outstretched, his grin settled into a more understanding smile. “Not so much as a whisper, Lady Diana.”
She gasped with fresh dismay. “You know who I am?”
He let drop the offered hand she’d ignored, and bowed again.
“I always learn the name of the most beautiful lady in the room,” he said, and the way he said it made her sure he’d done exactly that. “Besides, we should know each other, considering that—”
“Please don’t tell me,” she begged. “I don’t wish to know. It will make it easier to pretend I do not know you if ever we meet again.”
“Very well, Lady Diana,” he said, lowering his voice to a confidential whisper. “It shall be our private secret.”
He smiled again, so charming in the moonlight that she couldn’t begin to tell if he was teasing or not. Ladies were not supposed to share secrets with gentlemen, any more than they were supposed to kiss them, and she could only pray he’d keep his word. What choice did she have now except to trust him?
“Thank you, sir,” she said. “I thank you.”
She turned and fled, leaving him behind on the gallery as she slipped through one of the doors and back inside. She did not look back, not wishing to encourage him if he’d dared to follow, but she did glance at one of the gold-framed looking glasses as she passed it, and he wasn’t behind her. Relieved, she swiftly found her family where she’d left them, with Charlotte, Mama, and Aunt Sophronia all sitting in armchairs with plates of sweetmeats and pastries in their laps. March wasn’t there, doubtless off discussing some male business with a friend, but watching over the ladies in his place was his older cousin, the Duke of Breconridge, leaning over the back of Mama’s chair as he told some witty story that had sent all three ladies into peals of laughter behind their fans.
Diana smiled as she rejoined her family, relieved that none of them seemed to have been worrying about her, or even missed her. Perhaps she could simply slip into listening to whatever story Brecon was telling and pretend that she’d been there all evening. Perhaps, if she laughed at his drolleries along with her aunt and sister and mother, no one would ask where she’d been or what she’d been doing.
And perhaps, too, pigs would sprout feathered wings and fly from their sties up to the moon.
“Here you are at last, Diana,” Aunt Sophronia said, twisting around to face her. “I trust you’re feeling better now?”
“Thank you, Aunt, yes,” Diana said, barely remembering that she’d escaped Lord Crump and yet another dance by claiming she needed fresh air. “I’m quite recovered now.”
Charlotte leaned forward, looking over her fan. “But where is Lord Crump, Diana? He told us you’d been suddenly taken ill, and he was going to make inquiries at the ladies’ cloakroom, to see if you’d gone there. He was quite concerned for you.”
Belatedly (and guiltily) Diana realized that Lord Crump was nowhere to be seen. She hadn’t meant to abandon him as long as she had; she was fortunate— very fortunate—that he hadn’t come out onto the gallery to look for her there.
“I didn’t intend to worry him,” she said, hoping her face wouldn’t betray her. “All I needed was a moment or two alone after the dancing.”
“Never leave a gentleman to his own devices, my dear,” Aunt Sophronia warned sagely, her rings glittering as she shook an admonishing finger at Diana. “Even a fine and honorable gentleman such as Lord Crump can find mischief.”
Diana flushed. She doubted that Lord Crump would so much as