Page 10 of The Rake’s Convenient Bride

Elizabeth skidded to a stop.

“At least there’s less competition to snag Lord Darington’s attention,” the voice continued. “Not that she was competition at all anyway.”

More laughter followed the cruel statement.

Elizabeth glanced around, desperate to escape before the women exited the retiring room and discovered her there. Quickly she turned in the opposite direction and headed toward the ballroom once more. Perhaps the patio would be deserted. While the night was tremendously cold, the patio would at least be blissfully empty.

Alone.

That was all she wanted.

She hastened to her destination, eager for silence and the freedom to simply think, to mull over the ridiculous attraction to a man she would never appeal to. That, and relive the horror of what she’d done to poor Lady Gentry. Mama would be horrified when she heard about Lady Gentry. And she would hear about the incident—she always did.

The ribbon holding Elizabeth’s stocking up on her right leg loosened.

She froze.

A tickle against her thigh indicated the stocking was still slipping from its tie.

No.

No.

No.

The sound of footsteps sounded around the corner, the familiar cackling laugh of the woman from the retiring room preceding her approach.

Elizabeth walked forward slowly, and her stocking slithered down her leg. The ribbon fell along with it, coiling on the ground at her feet. She snatched it up and ran toward the nearest door, breathing a sigh of relief to find the handle unlocked and the room dark within.

The redolent odor of a cigar and the fragrant notes of leather told her this room was likely the study. She hesitated just inside the door, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the darkness.

Within a second, the stream of moonlight cutting in through the wall-length windows revealed a large desk at the rear of the room, several large leather chairs by the fire, and rows of books on a shelf, all filled with books. She had been correct. She was in the study.

A sigh escaped her then, one that emanated from the depths of her soul. The frustration of everyone insisting that she should marry, her own irritating propensity toward clumsiness that was forever causing Mama to shoot Elizabeth looks veiled with impatience, the hurt caused by the women who had laughed at her in the retiring room, and the enormous relief of finally be alone.

She walked deeper into the room and stayed there a moment, breathing slowly, gathering herself in little shreds of fortitude until she felt ready to return to the ballroom. In truth, she wanted to stay in that dark, empty room all night, to select a book from the shelves and curl up on the leather chair, reading the pages by moonlight.

But she was expected in the ballroom. Already she knew her sisters would be wondering where she’d gone. And Mama as well, of course.

First, Elizabeth knew she must see to her stocking. Modesty nearly had her looking around the room first, which was preposterous when she was obviously alone.

She gathered up her skirt, exposing her leg with the fallen stocking and tugged the errant garment back into place. With her bunched hem pinched against her body by her elbows, she secured the ribbon over the top of her knee and tied it neatly into place.

A glass clinked from somewhere in the shadows.

Elizabeth dropped her skirt, eyes going wide. “Is someone there?”

Even as she spoke into the darkness, her mind scrambled to come up with all manner of excuses for why a glass might clink in the darkness. A glass not settled properly. Or…or…

To her horror, a masculine throat cleared.

All at once, a match was struck and applied to the lantern to her right, bathing the room in golden light and revealing there was indeed a man in the room.

And he was none other than Lord Darington.

Jasper couldn’t help but notice Lady Elizabeth’s cheeks were stained red in the soft light, her mouth parted in an ‘o’ of surprise as she clearly tried to grapple with what to say.

“Forgive me for not making my presence known.” He inclined his head.