Page 13 of A Virgin for the Rakish Marquess

One after the other, every eligible bachelor visited her parlor, and not even one thought to bring chocolate—which would have made the whole ordeal more bearable.

Her once quiet haven, filled with books and her beloved needles and threads, was invaded by an endless procession of suitors she had no use for. Men who had never noticed her before, and even used to snicker behind her back, now seemed fascinated by her. Men who never even spared her a second glance were now vying for her attention, squeezing into the seats of her light blue sofa.

A distressing realization dawned on her. This was never about her. All this attention and the extermination of gardens upon gardens of flowers was not for her. This was abouthim.

A man likehimtaking notice? Paying for her company? Openly kissing her hand? It was his worth that raised her worth. And she was angry at this absurdity that ruined her days. And she was not alone.

“You are not thinking of honoring the auction offer, are you?” Stephen demanded, rather than asked.

Between the rare moments she had to herself, she had to suffer that as well. Stephen was the other reason that the hospital Selina had chosen for her charity event would see an influx of money. He was the one bidding against the Marquess. Not to save her from humiliation. After all, there was no humiliation. Diana was told that the moment Selina started the auction, Lord Crawford bid an outrageous amount. It was Stephen who had hastened to outbid him.

“That man is a rake. The worst kind.”

There is the reason.

Diana inhaled. Her overbearing brother had outbid the Marquess because he was not ready to see his little sister walking around with him. He had decided that a man of his reputation was not to be seen around Diana, let alone be her companion on romantic promenades. Diana had no desire to deal with him as well.

“Perhaps you should be talking to our sister about the matter.” She sipped on her tea. “I, on my part, am not going to give the Marquess any reason to withdraw his generous offer to the hospital.”

“Oh, trust me, I will have a serious conversation with Selina about this matter. But do not even jest on the matter. I forbid you to go!”

Forbid?

Diana looked at her brother, who was seething, and was ready to ask him to reconsider his words lest he wanted to hear what she had to say on the matter.

“I do think that Lord Crawford’s actions, dubious and questionable as they may be, have had a wonderful impact, dear.”

Her voice and tone were enough to distract him and lighten the heavy atmosphere, which was seconds away from blowing into a fight only a brother and a sister could have.

“Pray, do tell us how any of this iswonderful, Elizabeth?” Stephen demanded.

Diana nodded, forgetting that she was ready to have his head moments ago. She too wondered about Elizabeth’s mental health.

“All of the eligible bachelors are now competing for Diana’s attention. Respectable men,” Elizabeth interjected. “I am sure our wise Diana could choose any of them. Five promenades mean nothing, but they can bring you closer to the man you really want, Diana.”

Diana was ready to scream,“But I want none of them!”

But such overly emotional responses did not fly well under Stephen’s roof. Ever since that fateful evening—when the man who had all but promised himself to her turned to another woman in front of the whole ton—she had lived in the shadow of that mortifying spectacle. Being away from her wall and into the limelight was exhausting. She had more pressing matters at hand than disillusioning her sister-in-law.

“You are not wrong, Lizzy.” Stephen smiled at his wife. “Smithwick, for example, is a good fellow. I know him well. We both went to Eton. And Langam. He is respectable, has no debts, and never drinks.”

Diana tuned the rest of the conversation out. There was an insight she would love to share with her brother after spending almost a week with thecrème de la crèmeof the marriage mart.What was presented as a virtue was the same thing that made them boring: none of them was Lord Crawford.

None had that devilish smile that would make a nun blush. None could dwarf her with his height. None had that deep voice that said so much more than words. None had that sharp wit that challenged her. And none had those piercing blue eyes that saw her.Trulysaw her.

Stop that!

This was thereallydraining part of her days. To constantly try to stop herself from thinking about him. Caught in a purgatory between dreading his arrival and anticipating it, she found no peace. Each time the butler announced a caller, her breath would hitch… only for her pulse to slow when it was nothim. And then, absurdly, disappointment would follow.

She lived in fear of seeing those blues again and in dread at the notion that she might not see them again. She squirmed at the idea that his massive body would make her poor sofa creak, and she sprang up just thinking of him seated too close to her.

Because she knew exactly what he would do when he was too close. He would just get closer. Oh, she could see him enter her haven with that smug smile on his lips and that swagger that made him less stiff than the other gentlemen of the ton. But so much more dangerous.

No, she didn’t need ‘dangerous’ in her life. Her poor sofa had suffered enough from the endless string of men occupying it. It was better that she was spared his presence.

Lies, a voice in her head intoned.

Her heart raced just picturing him so close, daring enough, testing limits and propriety with his words and hands. But his eyes and his lips would betray his real thoughts. The way he would convey how he could just?—

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