He nodded gravely. “At the club, when he approached to tell me I should cease giving you attention.”
She couldn’t have been more surprised if a unicorn had suddenly galloped in through the doors leading onto the terrace. Not at her brother’s actions, but at Chidding’s disregarding the instructions. He was such a quiet, unassuming man she was embarrassed now to acknowledge she’d been unsure of his backbone. “Yet here you are dancing with me.”
He grinned. “Here I am, dancing with you.”
Because he liked her or because he was incredibly desperate for her funds? Why did she have such doubts? Because she’d once trusted unconditionally and been deeply hurt. “Is he in attendance?”
She’d not spied him but then with so many people roaming about in this large chamber, as well as the adjoining refreshment room, she might go all night without noting the identity of every guest.
“No. Apparently, he had an altercation with Knightly at the club and was threatened with bodily harm if he showed.”
Did that encounter with Bremsford have any bearing on why her former lover wanted to meet her in the garden? “Still, you’re disregarding the advice of myfather’s son and dancing with me. He’s bound to hear of it.”
He gave her a gentle smile. “I’m not one to strut about, but neither am I one to be intimidated. I have a mean right hook when I put my mind to it.”
Releasing a bubble of laughter, she looked at him through a very different lens. “Indeed?”
“I admit to being timid, and I’m not particularly bold, but you may rest assured I do protect what is mine.”
“I’m very glad to know that particular fact about you, my lord.” Now, she just needed to determine if he would consider her—and Arianna—his.
“I admire you greatly, Miss Leyland. It cannot have been easy to arrive here unescorted. Yet, you braved the censure. Perhaps, if you plan to attend another ball, you could send word, and I might accompany you, with a widowed cousin serving as chaperone.”
“You’ve made an incredibly generous offer, my lord. I’ll certainly keep it in mind.”
The music ceased, and they came to a stop. Once more, he placed a kiss against her knuckles and held her gaze. “I shall count the minutes until the final waltz.”
Suddenly she found she would be counting them as well.
Still, a little while later, with guilt eating at her, she slipped out through the opened doors and onto the terrace. Had her father considered himself as traitorous when he’d left his wife to visit his mistress? How did one carry on with another without acknowledging the burden of betrayal? She wasn’t even betrothed toChidding; yet still she feared he’d be immensely disappointed in her if he discovered her present journey.
The cool night air had drawn people out. Many stood about the terrace conversing. Some had gone down the wide steps to meander about the gardens that were visible because of the tall gaslights that must have cost a fortune to install. Her residence beyond the city had not yet been modernized, and they depended upon oil lamps and candles to guide their way through the manor after sunset.
She skirted past a couple of people who ignored her because they were too absorbed with each other to pay her any attention, thank goodness, and dashed quietly down the steps. Reaching the clearly marked garden path, she kept to the shadows. When she was a good distance into the abundant foliage, Knightly stepped out of the darkness and joined her. She’d been expecting his sudden appearance. It was how they’d managed things before. He always seemed to know precisely where to find her. Perhaps he followed along in her wake. She hadn’t cared then; she’d been too overjoyed by the notion he wanted to be with her. Now she was a bit cross because she felt disloyal to Chidding.
“I wasn’t certain you’d heed my request,” Knightly said. He took her hand. His was bare. He’d always removed his gloves when he entered the garden because he would take advantage of any opportunity to touch her, even if it was only her cheek, and he wanted nothing separating his skin from hers. “Let’s go farther in where we can be assured of more privacy.”
“I do hope you’re not expecting a rehash of what I granted by the stream. I assure you I’ll never grant itagain. It was the final kiss for all time.” Even as she said it, she mourned the words. She hated him for continuing to have this hold over her.
“We need to talk, and I want to ensure no one will overhear.”
They held silent as he led her through a maze of hedges, flowers, bushes, and trees. She assumed he’d walked through these gardens with Kingsland dozens of times, so he was familiar with every nook and cranny, every bend, every curve. Finally, he brought her to a halt near what appeared to be a trellis awash with roses, if the scent was any indication. The barest of faraway light allowed her to discern only outlines and silhouettes. When he didn’t release his hold on her, she shook herself free of him. “What is it you want of me?”
“I heard tonight that Bremsford has offered a thousand-pound bounty for proof of the identity of Anonymous.”
His voice came out low and secretive, but still she glanced around, fearing they weren’t far enough away from prying ears. After swallowing her trepidation, she nodded, although he probably couldn’t make out the motion in the inky obscurity. “I’m aware. My solicitor called upon me most discreetly this afternoon to alert me to the fact that my father’s son had paid a visit to my publisher, insisting he reveal the identity of the writer of thatsalaciousbook.”
She’d wanted to hide, build a moat around her residence, lock herself away. She’d certainly considered not making an appearance tonight but had decided it was imperative not to cower. If she gave theimpression she feared discovery, Bremsford might decide he was on the correct track.
“I assume your publisher guarded your privacy.”
“Only my solicitor knows I penned the book.” She shrugged. “And you, of course.”
“Why does Bremsford bloody well care who wrote the damned story?”
“Because he’s hateful, and he suspects it’s me.”
“What does he hope to accomplish? It seems the very last thing he’d want is to bring notoriety to his father’s daughter. To give you any sort of acknowledgment at all. To have you recognized as someone who has created a piece of work that has captured the imagination of so many.”
