their chaperone that sat behind them, sucked in a breath. “Miss Roth, you will remember your manners,” whispered her chaperone. “You will be seated.” And she yanked at her sleeve.
“Leave me be.” With a lift of her head, Miss Roth moved closer to the line of dancers. Darcy stood close enough to hear Miss Roth. “I would not doubt that every man in the room has already exhausted Miss Darcy’s mysteries.”
Ethan twisted his mouth. “That is too low even for you.”
The lady’s face flushed. Her eyes glistened with self-pity. She stared at him, raised her face, and then lowered herself with a sweep of her gown to the chair. Ethan stepped away and removed himself as far as possible from a woman whose mouth was like a continuing dropping of rain upon his brow. He strode toward Darcy when he saw how pale her face had gone, and how sad her expression.
After hearing what Miss Roth said, Darcy’s hands dropped from the man who held them and she stood stunned. She lifted her eyes to the gentleman and excused herself. Then she caught the venomous glance of Miss Roth and the proud look that spread over her face. Darcy wanted to confront her, but no good would come of it. She would not lower herself to Miss Roth’s level.
She should not care what Miss Roth thought of her. What did her opinion matter? The lady had nothing to do with what course her life took. Ah, and she was freer than Miss Roth to be who and what she was. She would wear her locks as it pleased her, dress in simple clothing, wear hats that she and her cousins made from the reeds cut from the riverside. She would wear what she wished even if it were secondhand, speak to whom she liked whether rich or poor, and not take anything Miss Roth said to heart.
If only it were so easy.
The heat in the room grew as oppressive as Miss Roth’s words. Whispers rose and she heard the name Morgan pass from person to person. People stared—some with disdain, others with curiosity. She questioned why. Had she done something to deserve such looks? Why had her last name drawn this kind of attention, along with Miss Roth’s rude comments?
And so, Darcy slipped between the dancers and headed toward the door leading to the terrace outside. Before she could pass through it, Ethan stepped in front of her.
“It is too fine an evening to leave, Miss Morgan.”
“You will excuse me, sir.” Her voice trembled and the tears that swelled in her eyes burned.
“Once again, I have intruded. I only want to help.”
She gathered her gown in her hands. At every turn, Ethan met her. “I am in need of air, sir.”
“It is stuffy in here … much like my traveling companion Miss Roth.” He moved her to the open door where it was cooler. “I can tell you heard what she said. She was sure to say it loud enough. I am sorry. It was uncalled for.”
His words caused her to smile. “I must praise her that she is not afraid to voice her opinion. But for her rudeness, for speaking what she thinks of me in public, that I condemn.”
“And justly so.”
“I was told Englishwomen are reserved and take care of what they say and to whom they say it. So untrue this must be if Miss Roth is any kind of example of an English lady.”
“She is snobbish. It was wrong of her to insult you the way she did.”
“Indeed, for she does not know me at all.”
“Whether she knew you well or not, it is not her place to pass judgment.”
“She judges me solely upon appearance …”
“Which is lovely, if you do not mind my saying so.”
“Oh, not true, sir, for I am plain. I have not the elegance of your Miss Roth.”
“She is not mine.”
“Oh, yes. As you said before.”
“If you would observe her, Miss Roth’s beauty is pretentious.” He leaned down. “Lots of powder and rouge.”
Darcy’s palms grew moist and she wished she had worn her gloves. The caller announced the next dance. “Please form the set, ladies and gentlemen, for ‘The Flight.’ ”
She knew the tune, the romance of it. “May I have the honor?” Ethan held his hand out to her. And when hers became lost in his, he drew her beside him out onto the floor. Once they faced each other they stood a few feet apart, his eyes resting upon hers.