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She walked swiftly to the door where she’d last seen Ravenwood. The hallway was empty save for a waiter with a cart piled with little plates of delicacies. “Have you seen the Duke of Ravenwood?” she asked a waiter.
“I haven’t seen him, my lady.” But he made a furtive little glance to the left, which told her all she needed to know.
She headed left. She didn’t have far to go.
He was there, one arm braced against the wall beside Miss Delacroix’s head. She was laughing at something he’d said.
He leant closer, bending to whisper something in her ear.
Indy’s vision blurred. Her stomach roiled.
Suddenly she was seventeen again. Standing on the edge of a ballroom waiting for an invitation that never came.
Cool air assaulting her face as she walked outside. The tinkling sound of laughter and Daniel’s low voice.
Anger and humiliation flashed through her mind like lightening.
She couldn’t do this. Not again.
Never again.
Seventeen-year-old Indy had cried hot streaks of humiliating tears. She’d cried because her dreams and trust had been destroyed forever.
Tonight there were no tears. She’d known better and she’d stuck her tongue on the wintry gate anyway.
You’re a fool. Such a bloody fool.
Allowing him to rip your heart out yet again.
Raven heard a noise and turned around just in time to see Indy fleeing down the corridor in a swish of mulberry silk.
“Damn.Damn!” he said.
She’d seen him talking to Margot and by the looks of things she’d assumed the worst.
“What’s wrong, Ravenwood?” Margot asked.
“I have to go. We’ll talk later.” He walked swiftly down the hallway. He caught a glimpse of deep purple silk around the corner and he nearly collided with a waiter carrying a heavy tray.
She wasn’t going out the front door; where was she going? He chased her in earnest now, not wanting to lose sight of her. She fled down the servants’ stairs and out the back door.
She hadn’t even collected her cloak.
A carriage was waiting halfway down the street and she ran toward it.
“Indy, stop!” he yelled.
He didn’t recognize the carriage. What was she doing?
He caught up with her just before she reached the carriage. He grabbed her by the shoulders. “Wait, please. Let me explain. It wasn’t what looked like.”
She wrenched away from his grasp. Her eyes were cold. “I can’t do this. I just can’t. I can’t trust you. I can’t rely on you.”
“I wasn’t making love to her, I was questioning her.”
Her shoulders shook. So much pain on her face. It twisted his gut with fury at himself that he’d hurt her again. “Please let me explain. She’s Sir Charles’s mistress and I think she may be involved in the theft.”
“I don’t care about her. It’s not about her. It’s about you. You will always hurt me. Always betray me. And it doesn’t matter why you do it or what your intentions are, it hurts and I won’t give you any more power over me.”
