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After all, wasn’t it every woman’s desire to marry? And he was no paltry catch. To entertain such thoughts, however, was very dangerous. “You’d have to be insane to even think I’d ever agree to such a thing! I want no part of this lunacy.”
“Are you so certain?” The corner of his mouth curled, eliciting another pull of desire within her. “I want you, Sabrina. And you, if you’ll admit it, desire me. Let me court you.”
Fire licked through her. Yes, she wanted him. Which was why she had to get out now. Quick as lightning, she turned and ran to the door, not daring to look back as she propelled herself through it and into the blessedly empty hall.
Damn him. And damn me for not having better sense! She had to go home. At once. But on entering the ballroom, she immediately sensed that something was terribly wrong.
One by one, the stares settled on her like strange, leaden butterflies. Silence fell as she neared, followed by whispers after she’d passed. The sibilant echoes of the softly murmured word “kiss” were repeated over and over.
Embarrassment seared her like a winter frost. They knew. Somehow, they all knew.
The icy dread lasted only a brief instant, however, before the flames of wrath burned it away. Devil take them all for hypocrites! Especially that horrid, smirking Regina Cunningham! Why, just last Season, the little harlot had been caught with Lord Ludlow—a married man twice her age! Her enormous dowry was the only thing standing between her and spinsterhood.
Straightening her spine, Sabrina lifted her chin and ran the gauntlet. Let them gawk. It was only a kiss, after all. She’d done nothing most of the girls in this room hadn’t done a dozen or more times, at least. Her thoughts turned angrily to Henr—Lord Montgomery! she corrected herself. He was to blame for this.
Though she tried to smother it into silence, her conscience pricked her. No. This was her fault entirely. She’d tempted Fate, knowing the risks involved.
Another titter sounded as she passed, and she heard: “Lady Carrington said she saw them, and that the Grayson girl practically had her skirts tossed over her head, she was so thoroughly…”
Sabrina turned toward the source of the chatter, and the speaker looked away guiltily. So! Lady Carrington had witnessed their kiss—and had obviously greatly embellished the event in the telling.
Her temper rose. She’d intended to find Mama and go home at once, but now it appeared she had no choice but to face down her accuser and correct her gross exaggeration. It had to be done, and quickly. Lady Carrington had sent many a poor girl running, her reputation in shreds regardless of whether or not she was actually guilty of the alleged act.
She knew if she disappeared now, she would be ruined. She could not let that happen.
After all, she was innocent. Sort of. Certainly, she’d not done anything to merit the slander she’d just heard.
Anger made her brave as she searched the crowd. At the center of a gathering of eagerly listening people stood her enemy, her jaws working at the speed of lightning. Prune-faced old dragon! Someone spotted her. A hush fell as Carrington’s audience fell back.
A malicious smile curved the gossipmongers’ loose lips as Sabrina approached, and a frisson of apprehension brushed her spine. Everything depended on her holding her ground here. She crossed her arms and fixed the woman with angry, accusing eyes.
HENRY LOOKED ON the scene below with astonishment and admiration. Sabrina had more courage than many a man in his acquaintance—nobody crossed Lady Carrington. They wouldn’t dare.
And yet there she was, facing the woman down.
Words were exchanged between the two women. He couldn’t hear anything from his vantage point, but whatever Sabrina had said, it was certainly effective—Lady Carrington flushed a most unbecoming shade of red and looked down.
Henry blinked to be sure he wasn’t imagining things as Sabrina walked away, chin raised, eyes flashing with righteous indignation. In her wake, the crowd’s chatter returned.
She’d done it. She’d won. What a woman the little “Pest” had become! No battle-hardened general could have done better against such an enemy.
That a woman with her kind of spunk had run from him in a panic spoke volumes. His effect on her must be truly remarkable. He shifted his stance, grimacing slightly. Her effect on him was certainly powerful. Even now, he felt another pull of desire at the sight of her.
“My God, she’s actually pulled the fangs of the beast,” said a droll voice behind him.
Startled, Henry turned to see Percy standing there watching over his shoulder. He’d been so preoccupied he hadn’t even noticed him approach. “I take it you heard about—”
“The kiss?” interrupted Percy, grinning. “Oh, indeed. Within moments of Lady Carrington’s rather flustered arrival. Good job! When’s the wedding date?”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself. She won’t even allow me to court her yet.”
Percy looked shocked. “She’s rejected you? Must have been a dreadful kiss. I told you you ought to get in a bit more practice. My offer to escort you along the primrose path still stands, you know.”
“Funny,” Henry muttered. “It was a perfectly good kiss, I’ll have you know,” he said softly. “Trouble is, she doesn’t seem to think I’m serious.”
“You? You’re one of the most serious people I know. The only serious one, in fact. Far too serious, in my opinion.”
“Not everything is a joke, Percy.”
