Page 10 of A Virgin for the Rakish Marquess

Diana knew deep in her soul that she should have been glad that his teasing was just that, a teasing and nothing more. She had no interest in being tangled in dangerous games with a rogue. She should have been thrilled that not even once did his gaze turn to her.

Now, she had to convince her mind that this was all a good thing. She had to warn the part of her that was trapped—even if for a brief second—off that treacherous heat between them. She had to caution the bits of her that were snared by the rasp of his voice and the devilish smirk that darkened his blue eyes.

So, what if he was acting as though their exchange was nothing more than an amusing sidenote of his evening? Such was the way of a rake. His attention fleeting. Flaring one moment and disappearing the next.

“There is something else you are not telling me!” Elizabeth was quick to read her face and thoughts.

Diana summoned the spirit of her governess and schooled her expression to that impassive politeness. But Elizabeth narrowed her eyes at her in a way that said,“Nice try.”

There was no chance under the gracious sky that Diana would utter to another breathing soul what had transpired in the book section of the auction. Still, her eyes drifted to the table that was part of her trap for a few seconds. The other being his unbelievably tall body.

Diana! Get a hold of yourself!

Lucky for her, at that moment, she saw movement behind Elizabeth.

“Oh, look!” Diana blurted. “The auction is starting.”

She could care less for the auction, but when one saw straws, one ought to grab at them.

Elizabeth turned with interest and grabbed her by the arm to pull her to the ballroom.

But the chocolate custard tart…

Still, Diana thought that no amount of chocolate would be enough to risk resuming their conversation, so she followed reluctantly.

The master of ceremonies stepped up on a small dais and started the bidding on some tea set, and Diana lost all interest.

One after the other, the items were auctioned off, and the evening became an endless chain of number counting, thrilled voices, clapping—lotsof clapping—and enthusiastic ladies and lords stepping on the dais to be thanked and to enjoy their moment. Most of the items were sold as the evening progressed.

Diana was ready to quietly slip away from Elizabeth’s side and enjoy the empty-of-people and filled-with-desserts drawing room when she saw Selina step onto the dais. Propriety demanded that she stay and clap as her sister gestured to the crowd to calm down so she could talk. So, she gritted her teeth, forced a smile, and stayed put.

“Ladies and gentlemen.” Selina’s voice echoed through the room. “Thank you so much for your contributions, which will be given to a good cause. Now, before we conclude this evening, there is one last item up for auction.”

A slight hum rippled through the guests. There was no mention of another item in the printed program. Diana felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. Then, cold sweat ran down her spine when Selina’s eyes found her in the crowd.

No, no, no.

Selina smiled. To everyone else, that was a poised, beaming smile worthy of a lady of her standing. But Diana was noteveryone else. She knew that sly smile. Whatever came out of Selina’s mouth next was not going to be anything good.

“I present to you,” Selina announced with unrestrained glee, “five promenades with none other than our jilted wallflower, Lady Diana!”

Diana froze. Her pulse quickened, and her cheeks flushed. Her eyes were trained on Selina, who had the gall to keep smiling. Her breath caught, and she wished she could faint at whim, like most ladies of the ton. But all she could do was keep still in the sea of silence.

A silence that quickly turned into gasps and then became a tidal wave of murmurs as all eyes swiveled toward her. Diana was pinned beneath their scrutiny, her heart slamming against her ribs.

This can’t be!

Not even in the novels that Selina so avidly read was there a world where this had truly happened. Her sister didn’t just publicly auction her off like an unwanted parlor ornament. Without her consent! Still, Selina’s delighted expression, mirrored by Herbert’s smirk, said otherwise.

Diana opened her mouth, then closed it, then opened it again, but no sound came. What was she supposed to say when her own sister betrayed her like that?

For the third time that evening, she looked for straws to grab at—an act that became tiresome.

She turned to Elizabeth, seeking help.

Elizabeth looked appropriately horrified. “Oh dear,” she murmured.

“Oh dear?” Diana repeated, her voice strangled. “That is all you have to say?”

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