What a Spinster Wants - Rebecca Connolly Page 0,23

hopes it would look respectable, at least.

Respectable.

As if she could ever be considered respectable now.

She longed to tell everyone and anyone what a horrid man Sir Reginald was, how he had wronged her, how terribly he was abusing her. But in her present situation, and in Society, she could not do so without ruining herself and all hopes of her future in the process. She might be ruined in many respects now, but there was a shred of dignity still, somehow, and the hope of a better future. Without that, she would have been ruined indeed.

“Come with me,” a deep voice murmured near her.

Edith jerked away again, one hand rising to strike, fearing he was another man like Sir Reginald. But to her surprise, it was Lord Radcliffe, looking even more massive than she recalled from their waltz. Faintly, it occurred to her to wonder what had possessed her to dance with such an imposing man.

His dark eyes took in her cheek, and his strong jaw tightened. He took her arm in a surprisingly gentle hold and tilted his head. “Come.”

“What are you doing?” she whispered. “How did you know—?”

“I saw you leave the box,” Lord Radcliffe murmured, “and then I caught sight of your weasel friend just now. He looked too smug; I didn’t like it. And from the looks of things, my instincts were correct.” He shook his head and peered around the column. “If we go now, I can take you back to your friends with hardly anyone seeing you.”

“Hardly,” Edith murmured, reaching back to try fixing another lock of hair, “but I will be seen.”

The pressure at her elbow increased with a firm comfort. “Just stay close to me, all right? No one will notice you.”

She snorted in derision as she allowed him to lead her from her hiding space, staying almost improperly close to him out of instinct. “Not likely, my lord.”

He gave her a look, then pulled her closer, setting his arm around her waist and tucking her into his side as others started to approach. “I can be a peacock if I need to be.”

It took Edith a moment to realize it, but by his pulling her closer as he did, he ensured that the side of her face that had been struck remained hidden against his side. Further, in keeping her in conversation with him, he also ensured that she would not meet the eyes of anyone else.

Quite clever, she would freely admit.

She had to smile at him for that, though it pained her face to do so.

“I cannot see you being a peacock, sir.”

He grunted an almost laugh, his mouth quirking.

“Use your imagination, madam. It does not happen often, but it is quite the sight when it does.”

Edith giggled and covered her mouth with a hand, unintentionally turning her face more against him.

“That’s better,” he said gruffly. “No one looks so upset at the theatre, besides myself, unless Madame LeFonte is singing. Now you blend perfectly well.”

Pressing her tongue to the back of her teeth, Edith shook her head gently. “I forgot to thank you, my lord, for saving me at the ball.” She swallowed hard. “And as for tonight…”

“It’s nothing,” he said simply, steering her out of the way of some others.

“If you ken my situation, my lord, ye’d not think it to be nothing at all,” Edith managed hoarsely. “And for me to force you into a waltz when you do not care for dancing…”

Lord Radcliffe gave her a hard look. “You did not force me, Lady Edith,” he said firmly, his dark eyes suddenly darker. “I had every choice I needed at that time. I do not need to know your situation, nor do you need to bear guilt. I do hate to dance, but not as much as I hate troublemakers like the weasel. Who is he?”

Edith shivered, and his hold on her tightened in response.

“My nightmare,” she murmured.

He was going to ask more, she could see, but they had returned to the box, and Lieutenant Henshaw, Camden, and Aubrey were outside of it.

“There you are!” Cam said, his relief evident. Then his eyes took her in.

“Edith…”

“Lady Edith will need to be tended to discreetly, and perhaps taken home before the show is ended.” Lord Radcliffe spoke in low tones, his voice calm.

Aubrey nodded once, his eyes on Edith.

“I’m going to venture a guess, Edith, if you will confirm it. Sir Reginald?” he asked in clipped tones.

Edith nodded, her tears starting to well up again as she