Page 85 of A Virgin for the Rakish Marquess

“I love you…”

What if he meant it? What if he wasn’t just playing a game? Diana thought of the times he laughed—trulylaughed. Of the way he could have taken her. God, Diana would have freely given herself to him. But every time, he made it all about her, unhurried, almost like he was cherishing her.

The battle inside her was raging. Fear had the higher ground. It knew the lay of the land, had established its dominion over her soul for years now. But hope… hope was persistent. Like he was.

Diana went through the next days in a haze, mechanically doing what she always did—being in her drawing room, buried in a book. Elizabeth never once mentioned anything to her, quietly waiting for her to make a decision. And all Diana could do was exist in a state of wishing that this all would go away while unwilling to be parted from even a small memory of it.

“Lady Diana?” The butler came in. “An invitation for you.”

He extended the silver tray, and she looked up from her book with utter boredom. Then she saw it.Hisletter.

Diana’s heart skipped a beat as she took the letter. Her name was written on the front in a familiar hand, the elegant script unmistakable. James’s script.

Her hands shook.

It was an invitation. Simple and elegant. The Pembertons were hosting a ball for the first time after many years. Nothing else. Just her name on that simple piece of paper. But she knew what he meant.

Come.

CHAPTER 23

Annotated Edition

James had never been more nervous in his life. It wasn’t the fact that he and his father were hosting their first ball after perhaps twenty years. It wasn’t the burden of his father being the host after everyone whispered behind his back. It wasn’t even the fact that this was another step to mend his broken relationship with him.

None of that mattered. Not compared to the real reason he had opened Pemberton’s doors tonight.Her.

This night should have been a triumph. His once-considered mad father was standing a few steps away, at the entrance, welcoming the guests that poured in with a regal nod and a witty remark for every one of them. Euphemia was sitting in her armchair, strategically placed where she could see everything, and she wasglowingwith joy.

The ballroom was brimming with ladies in silk gowns and gentlemen in shining boots mingling under the soft light of the old chandelier.

“Your mother would have been happy.” Solomon came next to him.

James smiled at the thought. His mother would have been happy, indeed. Not about the ball—though she always loved balls—but about the two of them making an effort. He looked up into his father’s eyes.

In a rare public display of affection for a man of his station, Solomon placed a warm hand on his son’s shoulder. “Have I thanked you?” he asked with a smile.

“Daily.” James nodded.

“And may I never break this habit,” Solomon said and went back to his host duties.

James bit his lip, and his eyes strayed to his grandmother, who was surrounded by other ladies of the ton. She gave him a small, loving nod.

And yet his soul was restless. This was all good, but not good enough ifshewasn’t going to come. James had never known fear like this. Not the kind that coiled in his stomach, slow and insidious. Not the kind that made his fingers twitch at his sides, betraying his nerves.

“James!” Richard’s voice called.

James turned around, his heart filled with hope. Richard and Selina were making their way toward him. But he let his eyes wander behind them.

“It’s just us,” Richard sighed.

James’s heart sank. Maybe he should have done more. Other men did all these grand gestures. Buckets of flowers and sonnets, love letters and groveling. If he had done that, she would have known?—

“His Grace the Duke of Westall, and Her Grace the Duchess of Westall, accompanied by Lady Diana Wilkins,” the butler announced.

James’s spine went rigid. His pulse surged in his throat, and his breath caught in his chest. He turned, his heart hammering as he looked uponher.

Diana. She came.

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