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“Pray, Lord Rutherford, do not come so close,” she begged of him in a whisper.
“Why should I stay away? We are betrothed, are we not?” he said luridly with his eyes drifting down her person. She felt sick at the mere thought and nearly gagged on a swallow of champagne.
It was her greatest disappointment that her father had agreed to the match. She’d had no say in the matter. No matter how many times she had pointed out that Baron Rutherford was a cruel man with little kindness in him, it did nothing to dissuade her father. Her mother had looked on with sympathetic eyes throughout her protests, but being of a meeker nature, her mother hadn’t argued the case.
What I would do to be away from this man!
Marina turned her eyes on the Baron, looking at the greasy black hair he now brushed back across his temple, apparently thinking it fine and well kept. He was short and may have even been shorter than her had the heels of his boots not given him a little lift. His dandy ways meant his clothes were more effusive than her own with a waistcoat so embroidered with flowers and perfume to match that her nose wrinkled at the strong scent of lily and bergamot.
He leaned toward her once more, his lace cuffs tickling her wrist as he tried to take her hand.
“I know ladies can sometimes be nervous about their first night,” he tried to whisper in her ear again, but she leaned away from him. The grasp he had on her hand meant she couldn’t get far. “Allow me to assure you, the night will be quite something.”
“You forget I have not agreed to that night,” Marina whispered in fear though once more, her words didn’t matter.
“That is a lady’s natural reluctance, demureness.”
“Demure? Believe me, My Lord, if you think me demure, then you do not know me at all.” She’d been called bold before, forthright, and spirited, but never demure. “I have not agreed –”
“All you’ll need is a little persuasion.” His hand caught her wrist harder, pressing so firmly that her skin stung.
“Ow.”
“I assure you, I’m strong enough to…persuade you.”His words made her want to wretch, for he was suggesting not to persuade her butforceher.
“If you would excuse me.” She adopted a false smile and stood on his foot. She didn’t care if it was a petulant act, for it worked well to achieve her aim. He released her, exclaiming a little in pain, giving her the chance that she needed to escape.
Abandoning the champagne glass on the table, she hurried across the room, searching for one face in particular. To make sure Lord Rutherford could not follow her too easily, she slipped between the crowds in the ballroom, twisting her path so he could not find her. She hid for a few minutes behind a group of tall ladies with feathers all thrust in their hair then she stood behind a group from the London militia, their red regimentals drawing eyes, so no one saw her.
When she caught sight of Lord Rutherford searching the wrong end of the room, she took her opportunity. Her friend, Miss Caroline Davis, was standing in the corner of the room, sipping slowly from a punch glass. She seemed happy to stay in the corner, observing the room at a cool distance.
“Caroline!” Marina jumped toward her.
“My goodness, you gave me such a fright.” Caroline clutched her glass and her chest, her brown eyes lighting up with laughter in the next second. “I thought I had escaped here to this corner, and yet you find me.”
“You know I’ll always find you,” Marina said to which Caroline laughed.
“I am glad for it, but tell me, Marina, what is wrong?” Caroline reached toward her. “You’re pale, and your hands… you’re trembling.”
“Lord Rutherford.” It was the only answer she had to give.
“Ah.” Caroline nodded. “Has he said more inappropriate things?”
“Just a little.”
“That man.” Caroline cursed under her breath. “Were I a man and twice as strong as I am, I would have thumped him for his words by now.”
“As would I.” Marina sighed deeply and leaned on the wall beside her good friend. “I’m desperate, Caro,” she used the familiar nickname. “I cannot marry him.” A lump formed in her throat at the mere idea.
“We talked of this before. You’d escape if you could, run if you could, but how? You know what your father is like,” Caroline whispered with a kind of horror attached to her tone. “He’d merely find you and drag you back to the church.”
“I fear you’re right.” Marina’s smile began to grow as she became even more determined of her idea. “That is why I have a plan to escape. Rather than simply run, I will make Lord Rutherford give up his suit altogether.” Her courage was building. Either from the fear and desperation to escape the Baron, or the champagne may have helped a little.
“Pray, tell,” Caroline encouraged her on. Marina looked around, checking that no one was nearby before she lowered her voice to a whisper and revealed her plan.
“I must destroy my reputation, Caro. I’ll make myself a fallen woman. The Baron then would surely not wish to marry me then.”
“Marina! Can you hear yourself?”
