Peter could have kissed his cousin. Instead he gave them a jerky bow, and keeping his gaze from Lenora, he hurried off, remembering a dozen paces away to favor his leg. His completely hale and hearty—and uninjured—leg.
Oh, he was going to hell. But he would accept that gladly if it meant he did not have to dance with Lenora.
***
Peter stood just outside the side door of the assembly hall, ignoring the muffled sounds of merriment from within and trying his damnedest not to think of Lenora inside. That was why he had come outside in the first place, wasn’t it? He was certainly not going to remember how soft her skin was, or how her voice turned husky calling his name, or how eager her mouth was…
He sucked in a gulp of sea air, shaking his head to clear it. Damn it all to ever-loving hell, he had spent the past hour or better freezing his bollocks off in the unseasonably cold weather in a quest to forget her, yet his thoughts were even more uncontrollable than they had been before.
It was painfully obvious that no amount of clear air would help him. He should go back inside. Lady Tesh would be furious at him for disappearing for as long as he had.
But he suddenly didn’t give a damn. For he knew that, with the increasing unruliness of his thoughts, if he caught sight of Lenora smiling up at Redburn while dancing in his arms one more time, he would lose his mind entirely.
He peered past the glow of the street lamps into the dark night beyond, squinting, as if he could make out Seacliff from here. He could walk back to the manor house. It was just a few miles, surely no more than five. If he kept up a brisk pace, he could be there in an hour or two.
Purposely ignoring the glaring fact that his dress pumps were not made for such a hike—perhaps if he destroyed them to a respectable degree, he would never have to wear the damn things again—he set his shoulders and made to walk off.
Just then he heard a familiar voice on the other side of the door. He froze.
Redburn.
“…surely it’s not as horrid as you say…”
Instant fire burned under his skin. He tried to ignore it. But in the next minute, he had no wish to as he learned what Redburn was discussing—and with whom.
“I assure you that, to me, tea is every bit as bad as you can imagine and worse.”
Lenora.
The bastard was still on her about the damn beverage.
It mattered not that it was an asinine subject, that in the grand scheme of things, it was so ridiculously minor as to be laughable. His frustrated musings of the past hour had brought him closer to the precipice of losing control than all the days before it; this simply tipped him over the edge. Rage reared up, nearly choking him. Without thought, he threw the door open. It crashed against the pale yellow walls of the ballroom. Several women gasped, stepping hastily back. But he had eyes only for Redburn.
“She’s told you she doesn’t like the stuff, Redburn. I suggest you leave her be.”
Redburn’s dark eyes widened. “I beg your pardon?”
“Leave Lenora alone about the damn lemonade.”
The man gaped at him a moment before sputtering on a laugh. “You must be joking.”
“I am not.” Peter clenched his hands at his sides and took a menacing step forward.
Lenora stepped between them then. “Mr. Ashford,” she said, her voice low and tense, “now is not the time or place. Perhaps we might speak later, at Lady Tesh’s.”
He peered down at her, into those incredible green eyes of hers. Damn, but she was beautiful. He felt himself soften, was about to reach for her.
Redburn’s voice broke through the moment.
“That’s a sound plan.” He came closer and placed an arm about her waist, smiling down at her. “Brilliant idea, love.”
It wasn’t the endearment that turned Peter’s vision red, or even the way Redburn looked at her with that nauseating mixture of concern and affection. No, it was the way he touched Lenora as if he owned her. The sight of Redburn’s gloved hand curling over Lenora’s hip snapped something Peter had too long held in check.
With a roar he lunged for Redburn, grabbing his lapels. The man released Lenora, gripping onto Peter’s wrists as he was slammed back against the wall. The plaster cracked from the impact.
“You bastard,” Peter hissed.
“Damn it, Ashford,” Redburn cried, “what do you think you’re about? Unhand me at once.”
