Page 6 of A Wallflower for the Disguised Earl

Corinna rubbed her neck. The stifling air in the ballroom, thick with the scent of a hundred different heavy perfumes and the burning heat of the candles, was making her feel slightly sick. Looking past the swirling dancers, she spotted a set of tall French doors standing open to the night air.

Without waiting to see if Vivienne was watching, Corinna slipped through the nearest gap in the crowd. She expertly dodged a waiter carrying a tray of wine, squeezed past two gossiping dowagers, and finally stepped out into the cool dark.

The Whitmore garden offered a vast improvement over the chaotic ballroom. Lanterns hung from the branches of ancient oak trees, casting soft, uneven pools of yellow light across the gravel paths. The clean night air carried the pleasant scent of damp earth and crushed roses, allowing Corinna to take a deep breath and let the tension drain completely out of her shoulders.

She walked slowly down a narrow path, her soft shoes making very little noise on the stones as she sought to put as much distance between herself and the loud music as possible. Rounding a sculpted hedge, she discovered a small ornamental pond.

The dark, still water beautifully reflected the faint glimmer of the lanterns above. Mesmerized by the quiet ripples caused by a passing breeze, Corinna stepped closer to the edge.

She took one step too far.

Her foot caught hard against a slick, moss-covered stone bordering the water, twisting her ankle sharply.

“Oh no!”

Pitching forward, Corinna flailed her arms wildly as the dark water rushed up to meet her. A startled gasp tore from her throat.

Large, incredibly strong hands suddenly clamped down on her upper arms. The jarring grip halted the momentum of her fall so abruptly that it knocked the breath straight from her lungs. Before she could even process the shock, she was hauled backward away from the dangerous edge and pulled upright.

Corinna stood frozen, her chest heaving. She looked up.

He was much taller than the young men hovering around Vivienne inside. His broad shoulders fitted perfectly into a dark blue coat of excellent make. Unlike the fashionable gentlemen of the ton, his dark blond hair was cropped close to his head.

But his face caught her attention completely. He possessed a hard, square jaw and sharp cheekbones, anchored by startling blue eyes that were currently fixed on her with an intensity that made her stomach drop.

Despite having saved her from a watery humiliation, his hands remained firmly wrapped around her arms.

Staring up at him, Corinna could feel the heat of his callused palms right through the thin muslin of her sleeves. The music from the ballroom seemed to fade away entirely, leaving only the sound of the water lapping against the stones and the heavy, rhythmic thud of her own heart.

They stared at each other for a moment that stretched considerably longer than society would ever deem appropriate. Neither of them spoke. Corinna knew she should pull away and apologize for her clumsiness. She knew standing in a dark garden unchaperoned with a stranger was a terrible idea. Yet her feet refused to move.

Finally, the man blinked. The intense focus in his blue eyes shattered. Abruptly releasing her arms, he took a large step backward to put a respectable distance between them, then took a seat by the bench.

Instead of asking if she was injured or offering a polite platitude, the tall stranger reached into his coat pocket, withdrew a small leather-bound book, and opened it to a marked page. Lowering his head, he began to read in the dim lantern light, acting as if studying beside a pond during a formal ball was the most natural activity in the world.

Corinna stared at him in complete bewilderment. She waited for him to speak. He simply turned a page.

“Thank you,” Corinna finally managed to say, her voice sounding entirely too loud in the quiet garden. “I would have ruined my dress completely.”

“You should watch where you step,” the man replied, never lifting his eyes from the page. “Moss is remarkably treacherous.”

His deep, smooth voice held absolutely no trace of amusement.

Frowning, Corinna knew she needed to leave immediately. Being discovered here alone with a gentleman would create a scandal her mother would never recover from. But the sheer oddity of the encounter pinned her to the spot. The ease of his silence and his complete lack of expected social performance fascinated her.

“What on earth are you reading?” Corinna asked, taking a tiny step closer to peer at the cover.

The man paused. Keeping his index finger trapped between the pages to hold his place, he slowly closed the book and turned the spine toward her. The faded gold lettering revealed a treatise on agricultural crop rotation.

He offered no explanation for why he was reading about dirt and turnips at the social event of the season.

“That seems a rather dry subject for a celebration,” Corinna observed quietly.

“It is highly informative,” he replied, his tone remaining perfectly flat. “It requires no conversation, and it does not expect me to dance with it.”

Corinna felt a small, genuine smile tug at the corner of her mouth. “Most people come to these things to be seen, sir. Not to read about soil management.”

The man finally looked at her. His blue eyes met her gray ones, and the hard line of his jaw softened just a fraction. “I am aware.”