Autumn's Wild Heart (Seasons #4) - Laura Landon Page 0,4
none of it and rolled her onto her back, preparing to ply his kisses. But this time his eyes opened and he looked at her. Confusion filled his gaze. He had no idea who she was. Where he was. How he’d managed to find himself here.
“Please, let me up,” she begged, and he started to obey her, but not in time.
At that moment the door flew open and Lady Blanche stepped inside. “No!” she cried, her voice reaching hysterical heights.
Suddenly, a growing crowd of nobility stood inside the room, filling it with their stifled gasps, their mouths hanging open.
“Who is she?” someone in the crowd asked.
There were several who answered they didn’t know who the girl was and Nella was thankful. She crawled gracelessly from beneath Lord Carmichael and thought perhaps she could escape without being identified. But that wasn’t about to happen.
“She’s the Earl of Shelton’s eldest daughter.”
There was a chorus of ‘oos’ and ‘ohs’ followed by the suggestion that someone fetch her father.
Nella wanted to run. She tried to make her way to the door, but a hand reached out to stop her.
“Oh, no you don’t, young lady. You will stay to face the consequences.”
Nella looked up into the face of the woman who had proclaimed herself the arbiter of Nella’s fate.
“Nothing happened, my lady. It isn’t at all what it seems.”
“That’s hardly likely,” clucked Lady Gladmoore, the ton’s biggest gossip. “Considering your torn gown, flushed cheeks, and swollen lips.”
“Petronella?” her father said as he entered the room. “What is going on here?” he added in an angry tone Nella rarely heard him use.
“Nothing, Papa. Nothing. It’s not at all what it seems. Nothing inappropriate happened. Nothing at all.”
As she spoke, she began to slowly realize her lie. Something inappropriate had indeed happened—as was evidenced by her torn gown. She raised a hand to cover her bared shoulder.
Lady Gladmoore stepped forward. “That’s not what we saw, Lord Shelton. Your daughter’s been ruined. The lot of us opened the door to discover your daughter on the floor with the Earl of Danvers on top of her.”
Every pair of eyes turned to stare at her. The earl’s head swung in her direction, as well.
Nella thought she might die of embarrassment. Not because of the condescending looks from the members of Society. But because of the look of horror and disgust she saw in Lord Danvers’ eyes.
The man of her dreams raked his hand down his face and shook his head. He was slowly coming awake and stared at her as if nothing made sense. She realized he couldn’t believe what had just happened.
Nella had never been so humiliated in her life. She knew what he was thinking. Knew from the expression on his face that he realized his world had just crashed down around his feet.
He slowly rose and turned to face her father. “Lord Shelton?”
“Yes, Lord Danvers.”
“Please, allow me to call on you tomorrow afternoon.”
“No!” Nella cried. “Nothing happened, I tell you.”
“I will be expecting you,” her father answered to Lord Danvers’ retreating back.
“No,” Nella whimpered, but her father clamped his fingers around Nella’s arm and ordered her to keep quiet.
“No, Papa. I will not! Because nothing happened.”
But no one heard her entreaty. And just that fast, it was over. She was ruined…
…and so was Lord James Carmichael, Earl of Danvers.
Chapter 2
Danvers, woke with a stampede of renegade beasts thundering between his ears.
“The Lords Candleton and Pomeroy are waiting in your study,” his butler announced in a voice so loud it echoed in the room.
“Very good, Hudson.”
James reached for the coffee Hudson had placed on his bedside table and took a hefty swallow.
He swung his feet over the side of the bed, then stood.
The room spun in circles going to the right while the floor seemed to move in the opposite direction.
“Bloody hell,” he growled, pressing a hand to his head. He dropped back down on the bed and waited for the room to stop spinning. When he thought he might have the movement under control, he rose to his feet and called for his valet.
He quickly washed and dressed, then went down the stairs and walked to his study. His longtime friends Richard Willoby, Earl of Candleton, and Vincent Scotshire, Viscount Pomeroy, sat in two of the three chairs clustered before the fire. When Danvers entered the room, Candleton and Pomeroy broke out in wide smiles.
“I say, Danvers. You look like hell.”
“That’s much improved from how I feel.”
“That bad, eh?”
“What happened last night?”
“How much of it do you