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“Myself.” He removed the mask, slipping it inside his coat. “I don’t suppose you were ever an ugly duckling.”
“Excuse me?”
He rested one arm possessively on her waist. “Hans Christian Andersen. The fable of the ugly duckling who became the swan.” He smiled, a reckless slant to his lips.
She attempted to take a step back from him, but two gentlemen stood behind her arguing heatedly with another gentleman.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she snapped, trying to hold her breath so that her chest would not expand to brush against him.
“You don’t know Hans Andersen?”
“Of course I do!” She exhaled, feeling dizzy. “I only meant—”
“Are you feeling badly? You look pale.” He frowned, tightening his grip around her waist, making her feel even warmer than she already did.
“Sir…my lord.” She closed her eyes for a moment and then opened them. The room’s candelabras seemed to be spinning around her, the bright light turning into blurred lines like shooting stars.
“Why don’t we step outside?” He was already moving her through a crowd that parted like Moses’ Red Sea.
Everyone was looking at them. At her. Talking about her, no doubt repeating the scandalous gossip about them they’d heard weeks ago. She didn’t care. She just needed some air and to put some distance between her and the American. But feeling too weak at the moment to refuse his assistance, she allowed him to escort her down the long, marble-floored hall, through a salon and out onto a veranda.
“This…this will be fine,” she said, her hand on her forehead, as she wondered why her heart was racing and her palms were damp.
“There are too many people here,” he grunted, pulling her down the steps into the garden.
Many guests were enjoying the garden, as well, sitting on benches and walking the stone paths. But there was a cool breeze outside and people were not bumping into her or smothering her with their heavy douses of rose water or French perfume. Blake Thixton led her to an unoccupied carved stone bench near a pecan tree.
“Sit down,” he ordered.
She sat, setting her mask beside her, and gazed up. From this secluded spot in the garden, she had a spectacular view of the Harrises’ mansion. Every window in the house glittered with candles, and from her seat, in the dimmer light, she could see people in almost every room, hear the music drifting from the open windows.
“Better?” he asked after she took several deep breaths.
She nodded, her gaze shifting to a small stone statue of a girl beside the bench. “I feel foolish.” She fiddled with her fan. “I don’t know what happened inside. I was fine and then—”
“Too many people. I get
the same way. It’s not like this in Boston, probably even less so in Martinique.”
She glanced at him, surprised he knew where she was from. “I suppose an event such as this can be overwhelming,” she heard herself say. Then, remembering that Charles had gone for a drink for her, she looked back at the stone mansion. “I suppose I should go back inside. Lord Thomas, my escort, will be looking for me.”
Thixton continued to watch her and it was obvious from his expression that he didn’t approve of Lord Charles Thomas. “He’s a bright boy,” he said dryly. “He’ll find you.”
She did not care for his tone of voice. “Lord Thomas received his education at Oxford, sir, and his family is quite wealthy.”
Thixton scowled. “His family, exactly. The boy probably hasn’t worked a day in his life. Of course, perhaps that’s precisely what you’re seeking, a woman like yourself looking to better her situation.” He raised an eyebrow.
Feeling a little more clearheaded, Sapphire stiffened her spine, choosing to ignore his barb. “And what, might I ask, is wrong with family money, sir? I understand you inherited from your father in America.”
“And in six years, I’ve made it twice what it took him fifty,” he told her, his tone clipped. “And I’m smart enough to know that this kind of profit won’t always exist in shipping. I’ve other ventures, as well.”
“Other ventures? Like what?”
“You honestly want to know?”
“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t.” Her tone was as curt as his.
For a moment she could have sworn he smiled.
