Dangerous in Diamonds by Madeline Hunter Page A

overwhelmed to be afraid anymore. Daphne tried not to be equally awed by the luxurious appointments layering her view in every direction.
    “Have you ever seen anything so fine?” Katherine whispered. “Do Audrianna and Verity live like this?”
    “Both of their homes might be as large, but the effect is not so ancien régime in its ostentation.” Of course, neither friend now lived in a duke’s home, either. Not that all dukes dwelled in such excess. Becksbridge had not, but then there were stories that some of his ancestors were secretly Puritans.
    “There are some scandalous doings in those paintings up there.” Katherine pointed to the ceiling high above, where gods and goddesses frolicked in bucolic landscapes, their nude poses full of amorous insinuations.
    “Such things are not considered scandalous if the Roman gods do them.”
    “What are they considered instead?”
    “Allegorical. I have always thought that was just an excuse for men to look at naughty images, however.”
    They entered the public rooms and passed through two huge drawing rooms. Finally their escort brought them to a chamber of relative simplicity at the end of the house, one paneled in medium tones of woods. Windows lined three of its walls, giving prospects of the river and Hyde Park. A pleasant cross breeze stirred the drapes.
    The butler explained the duke would join them soon. Two servants arrived with trays of tiny cakes and tea. After some fussing and serving, she and Katherine were left alone.
    Daphne sat on a settee and nibbled on a little cake that tasted of lemon. Her stomach had been tightening with every moment since they passed the park, and she could barely swallow it.
    She probably worried for no reason. Castleford was not a total scoundrel, from the talk. He had been kind to both Audrianna and Verity at times. He might spend six days a week whoring and drinking, he might not care what was said of him, and he might delight in being bad, but no one had ever painted him as evil or cruel.
    Unfortunately, putting her off that land would not qualify as either of those things. It would only be the act of a man making the best use of an inheritance. Hardly evil. Expected, actually. Smart.
    She remembered the look in his eyes during those horrible few minutes after he stopped embracing her. She heard again the dark, sardonic tone with which he took his leave at the greenhouse door.
    Her heart sank, and she ceased trying to be optimistic about how this meeting would end.
    She probably should have begun packing right after she heard his horse galloping away at dawn.
     
     
    S oon, a little thunder of footsteps worked its way through the adjoining drawing room. Two footmen opened the doors to the airy chamber, then held them wide. A line of men walked in, led by Castleford.
    He appeared less informal today, Daphne thought. Crisper. Tidier in indefinable ways. Harder.
    He walked like a man striding through life with a purpose. His severe expression spoke of sharp attention to whatever matter was at hand.
    It became quickly obvious that, for the moment, she was that matter.
    He gave her a good look. His gaze reflected his elevated station in ways not seen before. A duke accustomed to always getting his way was examining a woman who had dared deny him that privilege.
    He made introductions to her and Katherine of the two men who had entered behind him. The young one with blond hair, spectacles, an unexpectedly firm jaw, and an earnest expression was his secretary, Mr. Edwards. The older, portly, balding man was one of his solicitors, a Mr. Goodale. Mr. Goodale carried a large roll of paper under his arm.
    “Mr. Edwards, please take Miss Johnson below and show her the garden,” Castleford said briskly, once the formalities had been completed. “She is an expert in horticulture. She is here to instruct you on all the things our gardeners are doing wrong, and you are to take notes for reference and improvements.”
    Mr. Edwards pulled a