required, outwardly a beautiful young woman enjoying her debut in the company of her fiancé.
Lady Althea watched with a proud smile. She was basking in her daughter's success. Several old acquaintances had drifted over to see her and complemented her on her own appearance. Happy that her daughter was in good hands she accepted an invitation to play a hand of whist in one of the side rooms set aside for that purpose.
Emily allowed her fiancé to lead her from the floor and she was dismayed to find her mother no longer in her appointed place. She was regretting her rash challenge and wished heartily to back out of the promised
“My mother is not here, sir. I do not have her permission to go out on the terrace.”
“You need no permission; you are under my protection.” He threaded her smartly through the press of people and outside. There were several other couples already there, cooling down after their exertions on the dance floor.
“It's too cold here, I wish to go in again, if you please. I do not want to catch a chill.”
Without a word he swung around and marched her back inside. She could feel the muscles of his forearm tighten. Where was he taking her? Where was her mother? She wriggled her fingers but they were held firm. Then from feeling fearful she was flooded with righteous indignation.
How dare this man drag her, against her will, about the place? Ignoring the two couples standing quietly talking, she flung her weight backwards, taking her captor by surprise. His grip slackened and she was free. Every instinct told her to make good her escape but her anger made her brave.
She stood her ground and stared at Sebastian, icy rage in her eyes. “Enough, sir. I will not be manhandled like this. I will speak with you here, and you will listen.” That four other people were riveted also did not bother her. She removed her ring and held it out. “Here, sir, this I believe, is yours. I want none of it.”
Too astonished to protest he instinctively held out his hand and felt his token drop into his palm. He stared at it in disbelief. By the time he had recovered his ex-fiancé had vanished into the ballroom. How could this have happened? She had made him a laughing stock. Word of his dismissal would already be passing round the gathering like wildfire.
His fists closed and the jewel bit into his palm. He took several deep breaths. His fury burned inside him, but he banked it down. Apparently unconcerned he smiled at the interested spectators, casually slipped the ring into his waistcoat pocket, and sauntered off, as though he had not a care in the world.
No one would have suspected that before the night was out he intended to deal out a punishment to Emily that would necessitate her taking all her meals standing up for the foreseeable future.
In the ballroom Emily was instantly engulfed in a sea of gentlemen all eager to scribble their names on her dance card. She had no intention of honouring these assignations. She wanted to return home, at once, but until she found her mother, she was trapped. Any moment she feared that the man she had just publicly jilted would appear to exact his revenge.
Chapter Ten
Emily nodded, dipped and smiled, promising she was to return in a few moments, but always moving steadily away from the double doors that led to the passageway. She hoped she could hide herself in the crowd, but suspected that her vivid green gown and chestnut hair would make her easy to spot.
She found herself in the almost empty receiving hall, all the expected guests having arrived. Lord and Lady Galveston and their daughter Sophia and her fiancé had deserted their post on the stairs that led down to the lower floors and freedom.
Emily hesitated, should she go up or down? Edwards was upstairs waiting; downstairs somewhere she would find the carriage. She made her decision and ran upstairs, her dress held high, exposing far more ankle than was seemly.
A helpful chambermaid appeared at her side and guided her to the rooms in which the ladies could retire and repair the ravages of an evening on the dance floor. On enquiring Emily discovered that all the maids, dressers, and abigails were elsewhere but the girl promised Edwards would be fetched to her immediately.
She felt as if her heart was trying to escape the confines of her bodice; her mouth was dry and intermittent tremors shook her tall, slender frame. The other ladies in the room watched her covertly; like colourful vultures they waited, certain they would be able to pick up some juicy gossip to tell their friends.
The servant's door opened and Edwards hurried in. She had Emily's green and silver cloak over her arm.
“I am sorry you are feeling unwell, Miss Emily. I have asked for the carriage to be brought round at once.”
Emily quickly took her cue. “I think I was imprudent to come out so soon after my fall, Edwards. I should have heeded the doctor's advice and rested a few days longer.” Edwards cleverly brushed Emily's hair aside revealing the livid purple blue bruise that marred the right side of her forehead and ran back into her curls.
The watchers sighed—no gossip here—the flushed girl was merely unwell. With an injury like that on her temple, it was hardly surprising.
“I should sit down, Miss Emily. It might be some time before they send for us. The carriage could be several streets away.”
Emily allowed herself to be seated on a
“Do not fret, miss; I have sent a message to Lady Althea; she's quite content to wait until it returns to collect her. She's in no hurry to leave.”
Ladies came and went but still they did not receive the longed for summons. Emily flinched every time door opened expecting a furious Viscount Yardley to burst in and accost her. It was a full forty-five minutes before a footman arrived to escort them. The sound of the quartet playing and the tinkle of laughter accompanied Emily for it was almost midnight and the ball was in full swing.
Emily saw no one she knew as she hurried down with Edwards close behind her. At the door she turned.
“I can return alone, Edwards. I wish you to remain here in case Lady Althea needs you.”
Edwards did not protest. “Very well, miss. I will see you to the carriage and then return to wait.”
Emily mounted the carriage steps and felt her fear slip away; she sank back onto the silken squabs in the welcome darkness of the spacious interior. Edwards stepped back and the steps were folded. The door closed, the coachman clicked and the horses shook their heads.
With a sigh of relief she settled herself more comfortably. She was safe, at least until the morning, and by that time, she prayed, Sebastian would have calmed down. Something, a slight noise, an almost imperceptible movement at the far side of the coach, alerted her. She did not turn her head, she did not need to. She was not alone. The man she was so desperate to escape from was inside the carriage with her.
Icy tremors ran down her spine. She was trapped. He was a violent man—had he not already mowed her down? And servants, if they valued their positions, did not interfere in their master's business.
She must not give herself away. He must not know she was aware of him. Her hand slid across to the door handle and began to lift it. She kept her face averted, pretending she was sleeping, praying he would not announce his presence for a few seconds longer.
There, she felt it move. Without conscious thought, so terrified she did not stop to consider the consequences, Emily threw open the door and jumped out into the darkness, glad the horses were still at a walk. She thought she heard him shout but, remembering her frequent falls when learning to ride her pony years ago, curled herself into a ball to land on the cobbles, shoulder first.
The impact jarred the breath from her body but, otherwise unhurt, she scrambled to her feet and gathering her cloak about her she fled down the pavement, heedless of her surroundings, only wishing to escape from the man in the coach. Even the short time she had been inside with him, she had been aware of the anger pulsing towards her. She knew he hated her, knew he intended to do her harm.
