For a moment, he seemed to forget about the chaos around them, his attention wholly fixed on where her hair spilled over her shoulders. The look in his eyes… it wasn’t the admiration he bestowed on Society beauties, or the amused condescension she was accustomed to receiving. This was something else entirely, something raw and unguarded that made her heart race.
“I wouldn’t dare,” he said finally, his voice rougher than a moment ago.
She ignored the heat spreading from her neck and the slight tremor in her voice. “Now, I’ll create a distraction so you can attempt to coax our furry friends to a more appropriate venue.”
“What sort of distraction?” he asked.
“Something scandalous, I should think.”
Hereford stared at her once again with his lips parted slightly. “Do I, um, perhaps you could give me a sample of this distraction you speak of.”
“My lord! Please go before the wild beasts destroy all the china!”
As color crept up his face, Hereford mumbled an apology and was gone. Amelia watched him weaving through the crowd with her pins glinting in his hands. She took a deep breath, conscious of her loose hair.
“Lord Carlisle!” she called out, pitching her voice to carry. “Is it true that in America, ladies and gentlemen dance together withoutgloves?”
A collective gasp rose from the assembled guests. Charlotte’s husband, clearly confused but good-natured, smiled. “Among other things, Miss Thornton. Would you care for a demonstration?”
As all eyes turned to watch this potential scandal unfold with Carlisle reaching for his wife. Amelia caught glimpses of Hereford darting between the hedges, her hairpins creating tempting flashes of light while the tablecloth flapped from his neck in the breeze. One by one, the raccoons abandoned their prizes to follow the new attraction.
Amelia watched the marquess disappear around a hedge. The raccoons were following him but not closely enough to catch.
“Silly man,” she muttered, gathering her skirts and moving as quickly as her leg would allow. She could already feel the ache in her leg building. She cut across the lawn, taking the shortcut to intercept Hereford’s path.
She emerged from behind a flowering shrub just as he passed, reaching out to catch his arm. “Wait,” she said, slightly breathless. Before he could protest, she’d stepped close, perhaps closer than propriety allowed, and untied the tablecloth from his neck. She ignored the feeling of humiliation when he drew back and stiffened upon her gloved fingers brushing his throat. Apparently, he found even her touch unpleasant.
No doubt he had noticed the impact his proximity had on her just like every other woman in Society. It is likely the man had never had a commoner touch his bare skin…Wake up, Amelia. Of course, he must have bedded the servants and Lord knows who else.
“A better plan, Miss Thornton?” His voice was low and strained, presumably from discomfort.
“Always.” She slapped the loose tablecloth against his chest and snatched her pins from his hands.
“I shall lure them to me. You grab two. I’ll try to grab the last one and hand it to you.”
She then plopped down on the ground, holding out one of her pins. The smallest raccoon crept forward, whiskers twitching with interest.
“Be ready,” she whispered to Hereford.
He moved behind her, cloth held ready, as two more baby raccoons ventured closer.
“Now!”
Hereford swooped down with the tablecloth as Amelia not so much rolled as she had planned but tipped to the side, her movement less graceful than she’d have liked. The maneuver was effective nonetheless. Hereford somehow managed to capture all three small bundles of fur, who then found themselves neatly wrapped in fine linen, their surprised squeaks muffled by the fabric.
Amelia fixed her dress and hair without seeing herself and hesitated when Hereford extended a gloved hand, holding the bundle like a purse in his other hand. She didn’t want his help but had no choice given the significant pain she was in. As she gripped his hand, the strength of his body became obvious with how solid his arm felt as he easily pulled her up.
“Are you well? You seem to be in discomfort,” he observed.
“I’m perfectly well, my lord,” she said with a lift of her chin, noticing how the wind was playing with a strand of his loose hair.
“Allow me to assist.” He presented his shoulder to lean on while he carried the bundle of moving linen.
“Thank you, but I’ll manage,” she said before disappearing behind the hedges onto the shortcut.
Once alone, Amelia took the weight off her injured leg with a wince. More difficult than fighting the pain was her treacherous thought that Lord Hereford was far more dangerous when he was being helpful than when he was being scandalous.
*
