Chapter 2 #3
“One cannot dance without a partner, and no one seems to be lining up tonight.” Her half-hearted joke sounded a little too sad, but she gave a small lift of her shoulders, attempting to brush it off.
“Then perhaps I can be first in line,” he offered. “I can come and find you once we return separately inside.”
Her breath caught, her hope rising.
Perhaps all was not truly lost.
“I would like that,” she answered truthfully, looking at him a little longer.
“Then again, from what I have heard, you will like most things,” Lord Peregrine laughed.
The sound changed everything between them, as did his smile. The soft curl of his mouth turned harder, and the blue eyes that had gazed at her now seemed watchful.
“What do you mean?” Isabella frowned, her heart beginning to hasten.
“Well, I have ears,” he mocked. “I hear what they say about you in there, as well as in Hyde Park and the theaters. I have not visited any place this week where Lady Isabella’s scandal has not been discussed. You ought to hear the long list of reasons why you were left at the altar, my lady.”
Her ears began to ring as she stared out at Lord Peregrine. At her sides, her hands shook as he turned to her, too close—much too close—for a man who had, only moments ago, been offering to leave her in privacy.
Now, there was a horrible leer on his face that she feared. He shifted just enough to block her path into the ballroom. She did not want to go back in there, but staying out here was treacherous, too.
“My, the things they say…” He shook his head slowly. “It is enough for a man to grow heated, if you understand what I—”
“If you do not move out of my way, Lord Peregrine—” Isabella cut him off, thankful her voice remained steady. “Then I shall scream.”
He laughed at her, low and mocking. “Go on, then, my lady. Do it. Scream to your pretty heart’s content, for it will only do wonders for your reputation. Your fiancé left you at the altar; your innocence is surely questionable, for why else would he do something so humiliating?”
“My innocence—”
“Your innocence is of no consequence to me, my lady,” he continued, mindless of her protests. “But—if you scream—only think of what people will say when they find us together.”
Her eyes flitted uselessly around them, searching the shadows even as she knew there would be nothing there that would help her escape.
And he was right. She could not scream, for nobody would believe her. If anything, the people of the ton were hungry to add more fuel to the fire. She could not give them anything.
“Then I will not scream,” she answered calmly. “Perhaps instead, we can go back inside. Coordinated timing, of course. We can have that dance we spoke of.”
She gave him a simpering smile, but she could feel how pinched it was, how uncertain.
Words were honey, and she needed him to stick to them like a bee.
Lord Peregrine scoffed, sneering down at her. “A dance. A dance is a mere veil over the true desires of half of those couples possess for one another. I do not care for dances at the moment, Lady Isabella. I care for something far more diverting.”
Her stomach dropped as he stepped closer, forcing her to turn her back toward the balcony’s edge. With one last step, her back hit the stone balustrade, and all she could see was the cruel, handsome face above her that showed all malice and no mercy.
“Your reputation is in tatters,” Lord Peregrine murmured, lifting a hand, as if to stroke down her cheek.
Isabella cringed and turned her face away, but he had only been toying with her, and her reaction made his smile widen.
“You are already a jilted bride. Why not allow yourself to loosen up now? You know the diversions I speak of. Your sister, the Duchess of Branmere, seemed to as well, if her scandalous painting was anything to go by.”
“Leave my sister out of this,” Isabella snapped.
In one sharp movement, she tried to duck beneath the arm he had raised to get his hand close to her, but her elbows were cinched in by a grip she had not expected. A hard gasp left her as she was forced back against the stone.
“Do be quiet, Lady Isabella,” Lord Peregrine purred, leaning his face toward her neck. “Now that your betrothed has left you, let me show you what fun we can have together.”
Isabella still struggled, but her screams caught in her throat. Her heart hammered so hard she feared she would be sick. Clumsy fingers pawed at her dress.
Letting out a distressed, terrible noise, Isabella made one last break for it.
Her dress tore, but she was pinned just as quickly as before. His body pressed against hers, hard and forceful, and she fought the urge to cry for help.
A hand clasped around one of her thighs, over her dress. Isabella stiffened, her breaths coming out terrified and sharp.
But before that hand moved anywhere else, Lord Peregrine was pulled away from her.
His body moved back so rapidly that she blinked, and he was gone, leaving only shadows in his wake as he stumbled.
Isabella blinked into the darkness and saw an expression of alarm on Lord Peregrine’s face. “Who is—”
An animalistic growl reverberated through the shadows as footsteps sounded.
A form, larger and broader than Lord Peregrine’s, stalked forward so that the gentleman was bathed in moonlight. He dipped his chin low and pierced Lord Peregrine with a loathsome stare before muttering darkly, “Get away from her.”