Page 58 of The Earl She Once Saved

“I required air.”

“You have had it.”

Rafe saw Verity’s shoulders draw back.

Her aunt reached them and lowered her voice. “You must come inside.”

“No,” Rafe said.

Both women looked at him.

He did not raise his voice. He did not need to.

Cordelia stared. “I beg your pardon?”

“Lady Edgeworth does not wish to return to the ballroom.”

Verity’s gaze sharpened at the title.

“Lord Edgeworth,” Cordelia began, “you cannot understand what is at stake.”

“I understand she wishes to leave.”

“We cannot leave now. Not before supper, and not when half the county has seen her walk out.” Her aunt looked toward the terrace. Several figures had already drifted nearer to the open doors, their interest concealed behind fans and wineglasses. “They are watching for a reason.”

“They have been watching for a reason all evening,” Verity said.

Her voice was level, but Rafe saw the effort it cost.

Her aunt turned upon her. “Then do not give them one.”

Rafe felt anger rise, but not at her aunt. Her fear was too plain beneath the severity. She understood the rules of this world and had spent her life learning to survive within them. The rules had become so natural to her that she no longer appeared to see the cruelty in asking Verity to endure them quietly.

Rafe could have argued. He could have told Verity’s aunt that gossip was not made harmless by obedience, or that Verity had already stood beneath more scrutiny than anyone in that ballroom could have borne. It would only have required Verity to stand there while two other people fought over what was best for her. He would not do that.

Rafe looked at her. “We will do as you wish.”

Silence followed. The music ended inside. Applause rose, softened by the garden walls. Somewhere among the hedges, water fell steadily into a fountain.

Verity met his eyes. He did not persuade her. He did not reassure her. He only waited.

“I wish to go home,” she finally said.

“Very well.”

Her aunt made a sound of protest.

Rafe offered Verity his arm. “The carriage will be brought around.”

She looked at his hand. For a moment, he thought she would refuse. Then, her fingers came to rest upon his sleeve and they went inside.

They left before supper. By the time the carriage turned through the Marchmont gates, rain had begun to touch the windows. It came lightly at first, no more than a silver tapping against the glass.

Aunt Cordelia sat beside Verity. Rafe faced them both. No one spoke.

The carriage lamps sent an unsteady glow across the interior. With every turn of the wheels, light moved over Verity’s face and vanished again. She was seated with her hands folded in her lap, her gloves drawn tight and smooth.

She restored every defense, only her eyes betrayed her. Rafe looked away because watching felt like an intrusion. A moment later, he looked back. There was no anger in her face now. He had seen anger often enough. Her anger was alive. It gave her strength, sharpened her voice and held the world at a distance.