“I see you made it safely, then,” he added quickly, giving a curt nod in Diana’s direction before she could ask any of the numerous follow-up questions she had about this tale.

“Is that what passes for welcoming a guest to your home these days?” Diana asked, taking a sip of tea. “I remain more convinced than ever that a wife would do wonders for you, Willingham.”

“And Rothsmere’s been kind enough to deliver an eligible candidate directly to your doorstep,” Audley added, with considerably more than his usual degree of cheer. “Couldn’t be easier.”

“I am not looking for a wife,” Willingham said darkly; clearly the past quarter hour had been somewhat harrowing. “I can’t let Lady Templeton win our bet, now can I?” he added, more jovially. “I’ve still eleven months of evading the parson’s mousetrap ahead of me before I can claim my prize.”

“My prize, you mean,” Diana said serenely. “I have glorious plans for all the feathers I plan to spend my winnings on.”

“Feathers?” Willingham asked blankly.

“For elaborate headdresses for your future wife,” Diana clarified. “You won’t be able to get within five feet of her without a feather prodding you in the eye. It will be glorious.”

“I find the glee with which you contemplate my future misery chilling,” Willingham said, not sounding remotely concerned—indeed, there was a knowing look in his eye as he met her gaze that thrilled her to her core.

That reminded her of her other aim this evening. She gave an enormous, entirely feigned yawn. “I fear my journey was rather tiring, and I’d like to rest before dinner.” She batted her eyelashes at him. “Would you be so good as to show me to my room?”

Willingham rose with alacrity, cottoning. “It would be my pleasure.” He offered Diana his arm, which she took.

Violet and Audley watched this display with interest.

“What… is this about?” Violet asked slowly, her gaze flicking from Diana to Willingham and then back again.

“Can’t a gentleman chivalrously escort a guest to her bedchamber without garnering raised eyebrows?” Willingham asked.

“Not if it’s you and Diana,” Violet said bluntly.

“It’s like watching Napoleon offer Wellington his arm,” Audley murmured.

“Why do I have to be Napoleon?” Willingham objected. “She’s shorter!”

“Audley clearly realizes, deep down, that I would make the better general,” Diana said smugly.

“I hardly think—”

“We were just leaving, were we not?” she said, tightening her grip on his arm and giving him what she hoped was a significant, meaningful sort of look.

He heaved a great sigh, conceding the point. “If you’ll excuse us,” he said to Violet and Audley, then steered Diana out of the room before either of them could make a reply.

Once they were in the hallway, Diana dropped his arm immediately and took off in the direction of the main staircase.

“I don’t believe I’m contagious,” Willingham drawled, following her at a leisurely pace.

“Given your romantic history, I don’t know that I’d be so sure,” she said darkly, and was gratified to hear a sound behind her that could only be described as a sputter. “I’m only joking,” she relented, slowing her pace slightly and, in what she considered an admirable show of goodwill, reaching out to take his arm once more. “That’s what I wished to speak to you about, in fact.”

“The pox?” he asked acidly.

“No, your romantic history,” she said, lowering her voice. They had reached the staircase, and she suspected that every word they spoke could be overheard by nearby servants. As such, they remained silent until they reached the second floor and were walking down another empty corridor.

“I take it you’ve come to a conclusion about my offer?” Willingham asked in a low voice. He kept his gaze fixed firmly in front of him, but Diana could feel his arm tense slightly under her hand. Her answer mattered to him, she realized with some surprise.

“I’ve decided to accept your proposal,” she said, and his head turned, his eyes catching hers with unexpected intensity for a moment before he jerked his head forward once more.

“But,” she added, as he opened his mouth to speak, “I have conditions.”

“Of course you do,” he agreed. She narrowed her eyes at him, but he refused to meet her gaze. They drew to a halt before a door midway down the corridor, which he proceeded to open.

“This is your room,” he said. “Mine is just down the hall.”

“Mighty certain of my response, weren’t you?” she asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Not at all,” he said with that irritating, irresistible cheeky grin of his. “But if you did say yes, I wanted to be prepared. Shall I pay you a visit this evening once everyone has gone to bed and we can discuss your conditions?”

“I suppose,” she agreed. “For now, you should probably rejoin Violet and Audley in the drawing room.”

“Ah,” Willingham said, nodding sagely. “So they don’t become suspicious of my overlong absence in your company?”

“No,” Diana said over her shoulder as she turned to enter the room. “So that they don’t debauch any more of your furniture.”