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Surely, he must believe me a thief by now.
I spotted Miss Hutton on the far end of the terrace and turned in her direction when a motion inside the ballroom caught my eye. Drat! Mr. Peel had found me again. I pretended not to see him and spun the opposite way, edging closer to the house. A potted tree was situated near the wall and behind it was surely my shadowed respite.
I slipped past the tree and could not believe my good fortune. I would not be forced to hide in the foliage, for there were French doors closed to a dark room just beyond it. I glanced through the branches toward the ballroom and found Mr. Peel paused in the center of the terrace doors, looking about for me.
If he found me, I would have to dance, and I would give anything to avoid dancing.
Quietly, I turned the handle on the door, glad to find it unlocked and not at all squeaky. I slipped silently inside and shut the door behind me. The stillness in the dim, empty room was a balm on my anxious nerves. I stepped softly, fearful of anyone following me in here, and moved further into the room.
A low-burning fire smoldered in the hearth, emitting enough light to faintly see the shelves lining the walls, brimming with books. I removed my gloves, giving my damp palms a respite, and tucked them into my reticule. I took a candle from the mantel, lighting it with the hearth’s fire. Surely I was not disobeying Mama by looking at books. I did not intend to read them or even remove any from the shelves.
And there were so many wonderful books to look at. The Huttons’ ball was officially my favorite of the Season, now that I found myself alone in the library. I truly could not think of a better way to pass the remaining hours of the ball.
I would simply have to beg forgiveness at the end of the night. Mama might be angry with me for a spell, but if it saved me from dancing, I would suffer her—admittedly reasonable—indignation for the next few days.
Minutes passed in quiet bliss as I walked slowly along the shelves, absorbing the different titles and making a note of which ones I would later like to acquire from the lending library. Contrary to what Mr. Bradwell could potentially think of me, I was not a book thief. I did intend to return his novel one day, after all.
I crouched low and brought the candle with me to look at the titles along the lower shelves. Quite a lot of Byron and no Shakespeare thus far. Hmm. I supposed not everyone could be counted upon to have taste.
The door at the far end of the room creaked open, and I blew my candle out, slinking down to hide behind the thick, wooden chair. My heart raced. I peeked through the carved back of the chair to see a man enter the room and close the door behind himself, and I cursed silently.
This was much worse than a pair of ardent lovers—this one would not be as easily distracted.
He crossed the room toward the fire and lowered himself on a plush seat near the hearth. Scrubbing a hand over his face, he let out a long, drawn out sigh. “Lady? She was an absolute child,” he mumbled.
He looked familiar, and I leaned closer to the back of the chair to better see him. His dark hair gleamed in the soft orange light, and his eyes were closed, but I recognized him at once as the man at the refreshment table earlier—the flirt.
Or perhaps his greater flaw wasn’t that he was a flirt as much as he was unoriginal. A refreshing drink for a refreshing young woman. Revolting. How unrefreshing of him.
My feet were beginning to fall asleep in my crouched position, and I shifted to find a more comfortable way to sit. Judging by this man’s sudden need for a nap, it was safe to assume that I would be hiding here for a while.
I certainly could not try to escape until he had gone from the room first. I would not be found alone again. It could have almost been ruinous last time.
As I shifted, my foot snagged on the underskirt of my gown, and I yanked softly to remove the hindrance. Hot, searing wax dripped over my hand. I yelped, dropping the candle with a clatter on the wooden floor.
The man beside the fire sat up swiftly. “Who goes there?”
I shut my eyes and breathed in, my heart racing from the impending confrontation.
He rose to his feet and repeated himself. “I say, who goes there?”
Sucking in a quiet breath, I reached for the discarded candle and holder and stood. “Forgive the intrusion, sir. I only dropped my candle.”
He watched me with a discerning glare, his face impassive. “I suppose I did not mishear you earlier in the ballroom, after all, when you said you would make me love you. Forgive my blunt criticism, but this is a sorry way to entrap a man.”
