Sarah tugged her hand from his clasp and hurried away, hating that he had touched her. He had lost that right to be concerned about her welfare and reputation after he had broken his promises. At the faint sound of her name over the din, she glanced behind her, truly astonished to see that the man followed her through the crowd. She ducked behind another ghastly potted plant waiting for him to pass her. Sarah observed him as he searched the crushed ballroom, for once in her life thankful of her diminutive body.
Albert trudged through the crush; and with an aggrieved sigh, she made her way from the ballroom and escaped outside. It had taken so much courage for her to use the advice inA Wallflower’s Guide to Becoming a Brideto set out tonight. And while she held no false dream of becoming anyone’s wife at this late stage in life, especially as she had no notable connections or dowry, Sarah had wanted an unmatched experience tonight.
Recalling how stubborn and surly Albert Newcombe could be, she suspected her night was prematurely ended. Swallowing down the disappointment, she walked toward the darkened gardens in the short distance. There was bound to be a stone bench there, and she would sit and think about what to do next. As she strolled toward the alcove, she was suddenly acutely conscious of scents and noises drifting to her through the night, and her painful solitude.
Chapter 2
Robert Kittredge, the Duke of Bainbridge, sat in the dark of the gardens watching the woman who had disturbed his peace. Of course, this lady was totally unaware that she had disturbed him. In truth, she had no idea that someone observed her charming and at times befuddlingly curious antics. At first, she’d hovered outside the terrace windows, at times peeking inside the ballroom where hundreds of men and women twirled and laughed in their finery.
The lady was petite, lush, and was dressed in a rose-colored gown with a very revealing décolletage. Her mask was red and golden, her hair caught up in a loose chignon with curls bouncing about her cheek. She was too far away from him to discern the shape of her cheekbones or if her lips were lush or thin.
She hurried down the steps toward the gardens, glancing back to the ballroom. There was an air of anxiousness about her, and he frowned, looking behind her. It seemed as if she expected someone to follow or chase her.
An odd dart of concern went through Robert, but he shook away the feeling. He had escaped the crush to the dark alcove for some peace. He wanted to avoid the intrusion of the bright society. Robert was damned sorry he had listened to his cousin and attended this ball after five years of being away from the social scene in London.
He scrubbed a hand over his face. “What is done, is done.” And he knew it was pointless to feel regret for events that had already happened. He had lived enough with regret upon his soul. No more, even when it seemed insignificant.
As the lady edged closer, the light from the overhead lantern caressed over her throat, revealing a glimpse of a neck which appeared soft, supple, and very shapely above the low-cut bodice of her gown. That low cut revealed this lady had attended this ball with the purpose of being scandalous.
It was the very reason Robert’s cousin, Viscount Sherrington, had urged him to attend.
“You need to wet your cock,” his cousin had said bluntly. “Lady Scarsdale’s midnight ball is the perfect place to procure a lover for the nightif you have no wish to secure a permanent mistress.”
Robert kept his gaze on her as she moved closer, thinking the rest of the dress such a paradox to the plunging neckline, and that made her all the more alluring. She did not flaunt. She teased. That rose-colored gown did not cling to her figure, but there was a suggestion of lush, nubile curves beneath that silken dress. Her smooth skin glowed with a pale golden undertone as if she spent a lot of time outdoors and lustrous brown ringlets curled at her forehead and nape.
Coming into town was not just about procuring a lover, even though Robert was damn hungry to experience intimacy again. He was not getting any younger, and at two and thirty, it could no longer be denied that his girls required a mother and he needed to ensure the future succession of his line.
He only came to town to fulfill his duties in the House of Lords, and this was his first social event in recent years. Once those responsibilities were met, he planned to return to the countryside. Tonight as he had walked through the crowd without a mask, ripples of gossip had filled the air, and many had stared at him. As he threaded his way through the throng, he had greeted old cronies and masked ladies who stared at him with bold coquetry. Robert had been inexplicably bored. It would be a challenge this season to meet new ladies and start that complex courtship dance once again. It was needed, yet he had no patience for it.
He leaned against the back of the stone bench when the lady lifted the hem of her dress and ran right toward him. For a moment Robert thought she had seen him there in the dark. But when she entered the darkened gardens perfumed with a profusion of flowers, she sat on the very bench where he had reposed without saying a word or looking in his direction.
Dark amusement wafted through Robert. The lady had no notion he was there with her in the dark. He was tempted to scare the wits from her; however, he held himself silent.
“Oh, why did I come tonight?Whydid I listen to the advice of that blasted book?”
She sounded forlorn and a bit miffed with herself. He was curious to which book she referred and how it had prompted her to attend. Another heavy sigh came from her, this one echoing with irritation. A gentleman came outside, and Robert wondered what was it about this particular alcove which drew his unwanted guests.
“The vexing man,” she said. “Why is he still looking for me? He is a stubborn bacon-brainedprig, that’s what he is.”
The wealth of satisfaction in her tone at that curse had him smiling.
The man came forward with hesitant steps, looking around. “Sarah,” he whispered. “Are you out here?”
The lady remained silent, leaving Robert to wonder if she were this Sarah or someone else. After waiting for several minutes, the gentleman walked away, looking defeated.
“Finally,” she said with a soft sigh.
How lonely it sounded, and he felt a moment of affinity for her. What was her story? Why had she escaped outside here?
“Tonight was a spectacular failure, Sarah; nothing that you wished for happened at all.”
He could have left it alone. He should have, but Robert said, “You have a penchant for speaking to yourself.”
Robert had anticipated a shriek, or even expected the lady to get up and run as if her life depended on it. She did neither, only muttered, “Now I am also hearing voices.”
“I am not a voice in your head,” he murmured with amusement once again filling him. Now he waited for her reaction with a keen sort of anticipation.
“Oh.”