room? It would be stretched in every direction by the time she heard it. Perhaps if this had not happened, she and Ethan would have had a moment together. Had he heard her gown had been torn and that she was leaving?
She waited by the window until the footman escorted her through another door so she would not be seen. Inside the carriage, she leaned forward and looked out. Beyond the window that faced her, golden candlelight glowed within. Guests settled back into their chairs, and the singer lifted her voice once more as the driver climbed to his perch.
A man’s hand grasped the coach door and Ethan’s handsome face appeared. “Leaving so soon, Darcy?”
She swallowed the emotion that climbed her throat. “My gown. Mr. Price tore it—by accident, of course. I cannot impose on Mrs. Brighton to have her maid repair it.” She rambled on, speaking rapidly. Then checking herself, she met his eyes.
“Yes, I heard,” he said.
“I suppose everyone has.”
“Is it badly torn?”
“Yes, and it may be ruined for good. How did you know of my retreat?”
“Mrs. Brighton told me,” he replied, his eyes firm upon hers.
Darcy shook her head, and a curl fell over her forehead. “Poor Mrs. Brighton. She looked mortified, and I could tell that she regretted introducing Mr. Price to me.”
“She should be. Price is known for spoiling young women’s evenings.”
“Well, I shall salvage my gown somehow.”
“It is the one you wore the first time I saw you, isn’t it?”
“You remembered.”
“How could I forget anything about that day?”
She looked away. “I will not delay you any longer, Mr. Brennan.” She put her hand outside the coach window to signal the driver to move on. But Ethan took her fingers within his before she could.
“Must you miss the last of the recital? You may never have another chance to hear such music when you return home. Come back inside. I will stand with you in the back of the room.”
She paused to think, then looked back at him. “I can keep my cloak on and then slip out when it is over.”
Ethan opened the coach door and held out his hand for her to take. She curled her fingers around his palm. Back inside, she remained near a door for a quick exit. The music, the singing, and Ethan standing next to her in the shadows, escaping the glare of the candles, made the tearing of her gown less important. Through her glove, she felt his hand brush over her fingers and then move away.
When the singer held the last note, applause erupted and she curtseyed low in her blue silk gown, with her silver locks falling over her shoulders. She exited through a door near the musicians, and the guests congratulated Mr. and Mrs. Brighton for the success of their gathering.
Suddenly, the French doors behind Darcy opened. Chilly night air swept over the nape of her neck where she had pulled her hair away to one shoulder. With Ethan, she turned and came face to face with a disheveled man dressed in tattered clothes. Darcy drew in a breath, but fear did not seize her. His dirty eyes lit up when theirs met. Bronzed by reason of his wandering, his face lined by age, he’d no doubt lived a hard life.
His watery eyes enlarged, and he struggled to speak. The shabby jacket he wore over a starved, diseased body made him known to her.
He is the vagabond of the moors.
19
Dazzled by the candlelight, the drifter’s eyes traveled from face to face. He staggered forward and faltered. Aghast, people nearby moved back. The man locked his gaze on Darcy, lowered his head, dragged off his tattered tricorn hat, and with a trembling smile, spoke low and strained.
“It is you. Praise the Almighty, my eyes behold you at last.”
Stunned, Darcy remained stark still. Ethan put his arm around her and drew her back. “Who are you?” said Ethan. “What do you want?”
Tears slipped from the man’s bloodshot eyes and riveted down the creases of his cheeks. “Do you not know me?” he said to Darcy. “Do you not remember? Did my unforgiving heart drive my memory from your mind?”
Darcy’s lips parted, and feeling compassion for the man, she reached over to touch his shoulder. The ladies gasped and the gentlemen warned her. “I am sorry, but I do not know you, sir.” Her voice trailed off, and silence pressed in all around them. “I am not the one you seek.”
Disappointment contorted his face. His brows pressed