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late this afternoon. Shall I give the message to Higgins, his valet?”
    â€œUmm, no, I don’t think that will be necessary,” Diana replied, unsure as to her course of action. She was hoping to leave before luncheon, but that would not be possible until she had an opportunity to say her thanks and farewells to her hosts.
    â€œMrs. Roget told me to escort you to the morning room, so you can have a proper breakfast,” Gwen said when Diana grew silent. Diana nodded her head in agreement and followed the maid out the door and through the house.
    In the brilliant morning sunlight, Diana was afforded a splendid view of the interior of the house, and she was impressed with what she saw. The furnishings were tastefully understated and elegant, from the highly polished marble floors to the thick, lush, pristine wool carpets, gilt chairs, satinwood tables, and large, ornate vases filled with artfully arranged, freshly cut flowers.
    The morning room was a cheerful place decorated in shades of white and peach. As the footman held out the chair for Diana to be seated at the small table, she realized she was indeed hungry. She ate in peaceful silence, doing justice to the sumptuous meal of eggs, thin slices of ham, delicately fried potatoes, crisp toast, and fresh fruit.
    After conveying her compliments and thanks to the cook, Diana wandered among the rooms until she discovered the library. She took a deep breath as she entered the room, enjoying the smell of beeswax and lemon oil, and looked with genuine pleasure at the beautiful tooled-leather volumes lining the walls. She ran her hands lovingly over the obviously much read volumes, searching for an appropriate title to spend the afternoon reading.
    Diana paused briefly among the works of Shakespeare, but decided against Romeo and Juliet, Othello, or Hamlet . She had no desire to read about tragic love or scheming families, Diana determined, hoping that somewhere among the classics she would stumble upon a few volumes of popular fiction. Reading a Penny Novelette by Mrs. Radcliffe was just the thing she needed to escape from her own difficulties for a few hours. She wanted to immerse herself in a story set in a fantastic Italian castle with vaults and dungeons and secret passages, screams and the clanking of chains coming from dim corridors, haunted chambers, ghosts, doomed noble families and long-lost heirs.
    Unfortunately Diana was not able to locate any novels of that genre and settled instead on a heavy volume of medieval history, another interest of hers. Comfortably nestled in a leather wing-back chair near a sunny window, she read her book, losing herself in the descriptive passages of the age of knights and chivalry. Her quiet solitude was suddenly interrupted by a female voice that was low, forceful and full of venom. Diana looked up in surprise and saw Caroline standing in the doorway.
    â€œSo, I see you are still here, madam,” Caroline spat out, her voice slightly slurred. The spite in Caroline’s voice was lethal and in direct contrast to the pretty blonde loveliness of her appearance. “Derek came by last night to see you, but Tristan did not think you should be disturbed. Then they both proceeded to tell me a totally deranged tale about you and Giles Rutledge. Naturally, I did not believe a word of it.”
    Caroline took only one unsteady step into the library before stopping. Then she leaned back heavily against the doorjamb for support. “Tristan was most protective of you. I didn’t like it. Not one bit.” She took a deep breath, focusing her eyes intently on Diana’s startled face. “I do not have the foggiest idea who you really are, madam, but I warn you, if you have any designs on my husband, you had best abandon them. Immediately. I have no intention of letting some distressed female capture Tristan’s attention. Despite our current state of marital discord, I love my husband. And I keep what is