Not that it was the first kiss they’d shared, but this one shocked her. Perhaps it was wearing the betrothal ring. Or maybe it was feeling things for her long-time friend she’d never felt before.
She’d known her feelings toward Hunt had changed since her return from Italy. No. That wasn’t quite true. It wasn’t until he’d viewed the portrait and his attitude changed toward her that she found herself viewing him in a different light.
They made their way down the steps to his waiting carriage. Hunt helped her in and took the seat across from her. Facing backward. Always the gentleman.
“Hunt, can we be honest?” The vehicle started up, and she grabbed the strap hanging alongside her as they hit a rut in the road.
His eyebrows rose. “Of course.”
“What are your thoughts on an ideal wife?”
Hunt had the nerve to throw his head back and laugh. “Oh, no. You’re not going to drag me into that.”
She stiffened at his annoying reaction to an honest question. “I don’t intend to drag you into anything. I just want to know how far removed I am from what you had wanted for a wife. This was your year to find a bride, and I had no reason to believe you would ever look in my direction. Am I right?”
He rested his foot on his knee and stared at her for a moment. “What I thought I wanted and what I actually need turned out to be two different things.”
She huffed. “Whatever does that nebulous statement mean?”
“’Tis not so nebulous. I will admit I’ve always wanted a biddable young lady. But, to be honest, every biddable young lady I met so far this Season was boring as hell. Excuse my language.”
She waved him off. “No matter.”
Hunt leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs. “You see. That is precisely what I mean. Can you imagine Lady Eunice or anyone of her ilk not fainting dead away at my use of the word ‘hell’?”
“All right. Then an ideal wife is one who allows cussing?”
He grinned. “That was not what I meant, and you are intelligent enough to know that. Which is another reason I think we would suit. You are a smart, witty, knowledgeable woman. You have traveled, lived on your own. Our conversations involve more than the color of your ribbon choices or how well you play the pianoforte.”
“I don’t play very well, I’m afraid.”
“That is perhaps why you don’t mention it.” He reached across the open space and took her hand. “It turns out what I need and what I want are not the same thing. I need you.”
“Ah, but do you want me?”
He released her hand and sat back. “You have no idea how much I want you, Diana.”
The look on his face, the hooded eyes and the slight tilt of his lips had her lady parts throbbing. Despite her best efforts, a flush rose from her middle to cover her upper body. Thank goodness the carriage was dark so he couldn’t see her blush.
Diana folded her hands in her lap and leaned against the squab, staring at her entwined fingers. Another ten minutes of silence passed as she considered what Hunt said. He sounded sincere which astonished as well as frightened her. Was she ready to accept a marriage between them? Would he grow tired of her constant ability to find trouble? On the other hand, was she willing to change herself to suit the title of Countess?
Her brain in a whirl enough to give her a megrim, she used a finger to move aside the curtain. “It appears we’re almost there.”
As she gathered her things, they came to a rolling stop, and the driver jumped down to open the door. Hunt stepped out first and turned to help Diana out of the carriage. She took his extended hand, and a sharp jolt ran up her arm, and her eyes flicked to his. He must have felt the same thing, but instead of surprised, he looked pleased.
Whatever was he all about? Hunt was turning into a mystery. He’d gone from eschewing the idea of marriage—at least to her anyway—to attempting to talk her into it. She was more confused than ever.
She took his arm, and they climbed the steps to the theater. She was excited to see Charles Dickens’ Oliver Twist, a book she’d read many times over and was anxious to see all the characters come to life.
“Good evening, Lady Diana, Lord Huntington.” Lady Torrington gazed at them through her looking glass. The old gossipmonger looked pointedly at Diana’s left hand. “Ah, I heard you two had gotten yourselves betrothed, but knowing this young man as I do,” she tapped Hunt on this arm with her fan, “I doubted he would choose you for a bride.”
Diana felt Hunt’s muscles stiffen under her arm. Hopefully, he was not about to make a scene since the last thing they needed was more notoriety. She jumped in. “Isn’t it lovely when one can surprise one’s peers?”
Hunt made a noise that could only be a construed as a meager suppression of laughter.
“You’ve always been a sharp gel.” The older woman looked between Diana and Hunt. “I believe you two will suit. I hope to be around long enough to see the offspring you produce.” With those words, she winked, then turned and hobbled away.
“For a moment I thought we were in trouble, there,” Hunt said as they continued their stroll around the lobby.