The Matter of a Marquess - Jess Michaels Page 0,36

coming toward hers. She leaned back, tugging her arm helplessly.

“Let her go.”

They both froze at the deep voice that came from the door. She looked toward her savior and flushed hot when she saw it was the Duke of Roseford, himself, staring at them. Nicholas’s brother, a man who certainly must already judge her, despite his wife’s kindness.

Sweeting let go of her arm and she backed away toward Roseford, putting as much distance between them as she could. When she reached Roseford’s side, the duke subtly edged in front of her, blocking her from Sweeting even further.

“I have no idea why you’d invite such a harlot,” Sweeting said, though his hands were shaking and he would not meet the duke’s eyes.

Roseford’s nostrils flared. “How dare you speak to my guest that way? Get out of my house.”

“Your Grace,” Aurora whispered. “I don’t want to cause any trouble—”

“You didn’t, my dear. He did.”

“Want her for your own, do you?” Sweeting said with a nervous chuckle.

Roseford took a long step forward. “Watch yourself.”

Now Sweeting shifted, his gaze darting toward the doors the led into the ballroom again. “You cannot take her side. You need me or you wouldn’t have invited me here. Your brother’s ambitions, his hopes of being gifted a title he hasn’t earned through blood right…I can raise my voice against all that.”

Roseford’s gaze narrowed. “Threaten my brother again, Sweeting. See how that ends for you.”

Sweeting shook his head. “You know I could go back inside and—”

Roseford cut him off by taking a long step forward. He caught Sweeting by the ear like he was a recalcitrant youth rather than a viscount well past his majority. He cast Aurora a quick glance. “Please return to the party and enjoy yourself, my lady. I’m just going to take care of this refuse and I’ll be back in soon.”

She blinked at the sting of humiliated tears as Roseford dragged the viscount away from her, toward another entrance back into the house that would not require a scene in the ballroom. She pivoted away, trying not to hear Sweeting’s repeated slurs against her as he was hauled away.

She reentered the ballroom, hands shaking and heart throbbing. All around her, the voices were too loud, the smiles too wide, the gazes too focused. She might cry and she didn’t want the world to see that and judge her. Just like Roddenbury had judged her at the brothel, like Sweeting had judged her tonight. Like Nicholas clearly judged her even if he hadn’t the dangerous, cruel bent the other two men shared.

If anything, the encounter had proven to her one important fact: she would never recover from the rumors that had been spread about her. No matter how much friendship the duchesses offered her, no matter how she proved herself a lady in the eyes of those who apparently mattered, in the end, she was spoiled, ruined, and there was no going back.

She staggered through the room, trying to maintain a false smile with every step. She would go to the library. That was where she’d promised to meet Nicholas shortly. If she got there early, she could try to calm herself once again. Try to find a way to pretend that none of this mattered. That she was not affected by the lies and the past and the pain she’d endured in the years since she last touched her lips to his.

She had to. Because she didn’t know that he would allow her anything else.

Nicholas trailed behind Aurora as she stumbled through the hallways toward the library. He’d watched her come in from the terrace, her smile false and her steps ragged. He’d watched her pretend to be fine as she escaped the room, even going so far as to smile and say good evening to those who acknowledged her. To anyone who didn’t know her, she might have looked well.

But he knew her, even after all these years and all that had kept them apart. She still worried her lip the same way when she was afraid. She still stooped her shoulders slightly when she was carrying the weight of the world. He knew her pain and the sudden dread that haunted every step she took.

He shouldn’t have followed her from the room. They’d intended to leave separately, not be too obvious to the eyes of his family and anyone else keeping track. But how could he not follow her when she looked so forlorn? He couldn’t help himself. Or at least he