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Peeking to ensure the earl was not in the path she needed to take to leave the ballroom, Diana stepped out from behind the curtain and moved toward the large double doors that led out of the room, keeping close to the walls. The earl was now dancing with a young dark-haired lady, and when they turned, Diana saw that she looked miserable, and she dearly commiserated with her.
The earl’s eyes met hers and she quickly looked away, then quickened her pace. Once she was out in the hallway, she gathered her skirts and hurried down the hall to the room that Annabelle mentioned. She closed the door behind her and looked around. There was no painting, only tall bookshelves covering the walls, and French doors that opened out to a terrace.
“Am I in the right room?” she asked herself as she moved further into the room to search for the piece. Perhaps it was a very small one.
The door opened and she turned immediately, expecting to see Annabelle. Her eyes instead found a handsome gentleman with blonde hair and dark eyes. She recalled seeing him dancing with other ladies in the ballroom earlier, and Annabelle had given her his name. Unfortunately, she could not remember the name now.
He smiled at her, taking several steps in her direction. “I did not think I would find anyone here. Are you waiting for someone?”
“Yes,” Diana replied cautiously. “My friend is supposed to show me a painting here.” She looked around again, uncertain. “Although I do not see anything of the sort. I might be in the wrong place.”
“There is no such thing as being in the wrong place.” He was standing before her now. “Though, I do believe I saw a painting here the last time I was in this room.”
“Could it have been moved?” she asked.
He smiled. “Perhaps, after all, it was only a small, framed portrait of some French artist.” He bowed. “Please allow me to introduce myself. I am Baron Crawford.”
Diana narrowed her eyes at his implication but curtsied politely. “I am Miss Diana Pearson.”
His brows rose as if he was surprised. “Are you Miss Annabelle Windhill’s friend?”
“Yes. Are you well acquainted with her?”
“Indeed, I am, and I presume you are waiting here for her.” His smile was pleasant, and Diana’s wariness began to vanish. He was acquainted with Annabelle, and he seemed to be an agreeable gentleman.
“I am.” She returned his smile.
He held out his arm. “Shall we search for the painting while we wait for her?”
Diana accepted his arm because she did not want to be impolite. They began to walk around the library, and when they reached the open French doors, he stopped and looked up at the full moon that illuminated the terrace, then back at her.
“Your eyes are as bright and lovely as the moon, Miss Pearson.” His dark eyes gleamed dangerously despite the softness in his voice, and he reached up to stroke her cheek.
Diana’s caution returned, and she quickly pulled her hand from his arm and took a step back.
“Do not be afraid, Miss Pearson,” he said, grasping her arms. “I only wish to show you the passion you have awakened in me.”
“I do not even know you!” She pushed against his chest to free herself but his hold on her was firm.
“Now you do, my dear.” He leaned forward and tried to kiss her, his fingers biting into her arms from the force with which he was holding her. Panic rose within her, and she began to kick his shin whilst pulling her face away. That did little because he cursed and started pushing her against a bookshelf, a few feet behind, likely to trap her. Diana struggled against his heavy breath, as he leaned closer, both arms still pinned against her shoulders.
The library door burst open and Annabelle walked in with several ladies. “Diana!” she shrieked when she saw her. “What are you doing?”
“I was not doing anything,” Diana quickly defended, tears brimming her eyes and blurring her vision. Baron Crawford released her at once, and darted out onto the terrace, away from sight, leaving her to suffer the consequences of being caught in a room alone with a man.
“That is not what we saw, Miss Pearson,” said a plump woman with disgust.
“Diana, how could you?” Annabelle asked, looking betrayed.
Diana could not understand why the women had followed Annabelle, and she did not have any time to think about it before their harsh accusations came, their voices filling her ears with words she never thought she would hear.
“You are ruined now!” someone exclaimed. “How shameful,” another rebuked.
Diana covered her face with her hands, stepping back until she felt a bookshelf bar her way. Her heart was beating violently in her chest, and her legs were weak.
“What is happening here?” came her father’s thunderous voice soon after.
“Your daughter has fallen, Lord Edgington,” someone answered.
