My Reckless Surrender

He expected her to become less mysterious, now she eschewed her veils. But the contradictions seemed even more marked. The clear-cut bone structure, the character and will in her face with its strong jaw and straight nose. The mouth that promised sensual paradise. The eyes that surrendered and resisted.

She was as much an enigma as ever.

Trembling, Diana retreated against the glass case. “Don’t be absurd, Ashcroft,” she whispered. “I’m your…mistress.”

The last word was so low, he had to lean close to hear. He caught a whiff of scent, sweet, erotic, unforgettable. Apples. Diana. For one forbidden second, he drew the evocative fragrance deep into his lungs.

“What’s your last name?”

“Tarquin! What are you doing?” Aunt Mary bellowed from the doorway. “Didn’t you hear me?”

“What’s your last name?” he repeated in a murmur.

“You can’t do this. I won’t let you,” Diana muttered through tight lips. The vulnerable expression faded, and he recognized a return of defiance. His smile broadened. He loved that she stood up to him.

“How will you stop me? Give me your last name.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I could lie.”

“Then lie.”

He grabbed her slender arm, his heart leaping at even such innocent contact, and hauled her toward his aunt. He expected Diana to resist, although she must know he was prepared to use strength if he must. To his surprise, though, she yielded without a fight. Under his fingers, he felt her quaking anger. He glanced across to where her friend watched from the far side of the room. Her eyes were sharp with interest.

“Carrick,” Diana said on a snap.

Carrick.

She’d never escape him so easily again. Immediately, he accepted that it was her real name although he couldn’t say why. Perhaps the way she spat the two syllables. As if daring him to do his worst. Satisfaction coiled in his belly, along with the hunger that had been his constant companion since she’d left.

For five days he’d been utterly miserable. A misery intensified because he refused to search his heart and admit what a blow Diana dealt when she absconded. Now bright enjoyment burgeoned. He felt alive for the first time since she’d deserted him.

“Aunt Mary, allow me to introduce a lady of my acquaintance, Mrs. Carrick.” He turned to Diana, who studiously refused to look at him. “Mrs. Carrick, may I present my aunt, Lady Birchgrove?”

“Mrs. Carrick,” his aunt said with a distinct lack of enthusiasm, nodding at Diana.

“Your ladyship.” Diana curtsied, as etiquette dictated, waiting for the countess to indicate whether she desired conversation.

Yet again, he found himself puzzling over exactly where his paramour fitted into society. Once she’d accepted that an introduction was inevitable, her manners were impeccable. One would assume she met countesses every day.

“Are you a Londoner, Mrs. Carrick?” his aunt asked, when it became clear Ashcroft had no intention of removing Diana.

Diana shot him an annoyed glance under her lashes, but her voice remained steady. “I’m from a village in Surrey, your ladyship. I’m sure you wouldn’t know it.”

Briefly, Ashcroft imagined his investigations would be easy. He’d find out everything he wanted to know without exercising further guile. His aunt would inquire, and Diana would answer.

Clearly he’d been mistaken.

The countess arched her thick eyebrows. “I know Surrey well. I’ve visited a number of houses in the county.”

“It’s a very beautiful part of England,” Diana said neutrally.

Charlotte chose that moment to return from whatever exhibit occupied her. A cavalcade of sneezes accompanied her arrival. “Mama, I just saw Susannah Meredith in Greek vases. She says there’s a…” She paused and stared at Diana through watery eyes. “Oh, my, that’s a beautiful dress.”

“Charlotte, you haven’t been introduced to this lady. I swear you are the most rag-mannered hoyden. Goodness knows how we’ll get vouchers for Almack’s if you don’t mend your ways.”

“Your pardon, Mama.” Charlotte bowed her head, her brief vivacity draining away.

Diana sent the crestfallen, obviously ill girl a smile. Ashcroft’s heart set off on its wayward gallop again. She really was the most beautiful woman. Now his dizzying relief that he’d found her receded, he noticed her gown was indeed extremely becoming. A rich blue with gold trimming the bodice. A bodice up to the throat. He couldn’t help approving that she hid herself from every scoundrel who wished to ogle her bosom.