Chapter 27
The rooms now overflowed with guests, and through the expanding crowd, Colt caught the chiming sound of -Sarah’s laughter. He edged his way through the throng of people to her side, where he found her conversing with Mr Edleston.
Sarah gave him a tight-lipped smile. “Colt, what a becoming coat,” she remarked of his well-fitted gray garment.
Colt greeted Mr Edleston and invited Sarah to dance.
She thanked him and declined the honour as she wished to rest.
He remained awkwardly at her elbow for a few more moments before draining his glass and moving away again, disconcerted.
Why was she making him suffer? He crossed the room, hoping to find a card table established in one of the adjoining rooms. Just then, a handful of young people detained him, Miss Coombes numbered among them.
With a level of confidence rare in debutantes, Miss Coombes greeted him. “I hope you mean to ask me to dance, Lord Coulthurst. We are all at a loss here.”
Dancing with Miss Coombes was the last thing he wanted to do at that moment. However, the gaggle of hopefuls blocked his escape as they whispered to each other and watched him intently. He could not refuse such a direct request without overt rudeness. He smiled uneasily.
“Of course, Miss Coombes. I would naturally offer to dance with all of you at once, but I fear that would challenge the propriety in even Lord Byron’s house,” he said, giving the others an apologetic smile, which sufficed to send them all off into a peal of giggles.
In a dark mood, Colt moved through the steps of the dance mechanically, smiling only in response to Miss Coombes when she beamed at him, her eyes almost bulging with enthusiasm. Unlike their prior encounters, he did not seize every opportunity to brush against her or touch her soft skin.
Miss Coombes draped her hand against her brow. “The room is too crowded,” she whispered. “I might swoon. Would you be so good as to find me somewhere quiet where I might sit for a moment?”
Colt now regretted each of his previous attempts to engage in a playful dalliance with Miss Coombes.
She sought time alone with him with bold determination, and this forced him into an awkward position of needing to deny her.
She was a harmless creature and did not deserve to be wounded or embarrassed, but he no longer wished to provide his assistance to her.
Unwilling to let the lady swoon and cause a scene, Colt supported her off the dance floor and out into the hall.
He wished to set Miss Coombes away from any curious onlookers as quickly as possible.
He tried an adjacent door, and it opened, to his relief.
He shuffled her into a modest sitting room, dark except for the light offered by a fire already reduced to embers.
“I hope my mother did not witness our departure,” Miss Coombes said. “She would surely pursue me.”
“Perhaps your mother should keep a closer eye on you at all times,” Colt replied, gesturing to the couch. “You may wish to sit down while you compose yourself?”
She gave him a coy smile and walked over to the window. The curtains were drawn, and this allowed her to gaze down over the street below while she remained in the shadows. Moonlight spilled over her pretty face.
“I believe I should apologise for the other night at Vauxhall. I let myself get carried away. I should not have laid my hands on you as I did,” Colt explained, joining her by the window.
“I enjoyed it very much, Lord Coulthurst.”
“That may well be, but it was ill-considered of me. Allow me to reassure you that I shall never lay a hand on you again,” he promised.
“But what if I would like you to?”
“Then I would be obliged to disappoint you, Miss Coombes.”
“But I liked it.” She spoke with a growing sense of urgency.
“Yes,” he stated. “And I wish you success in your pursuit of pleasure with other partners, Miss Coombes.”
She flushed. “Oh, my goodness,” she said in a weak voice, and her knees gave way.
Realising every gentleman’s worst nightmare, Colt leapt forward to catch her.
It was immediately clear, however, that she had feigned the swoon. She blinked at him soulfully from beneath her long lashes, reached around his neck, and pulled him down, trying to kiss him.
Georgina was right. She was a brat!
He pulled his face away from hers, but she had a grip on his neck.
Suddenly, light streamed into the sitting room as the door flung open. “For God’s sake, you’re an animal,” Mr Dalrymple growled. He crossed the room in a few strides.
Colt released Miss Coombes in surprise, and she stumbled back against the window, clutching at the curtains to prevent herself from falling into an undignified heap on the floor.
Colt raised his hands placatingly, hoping to explain the misunderstanding. Before he could speak, however, Mr Dalrymple landed him a generous right hook to the face.
Despite Colt’s excellent boxing skills, this assault took him unawares and left his head rattling. He tottered backwards, off balance.
Mr Dalrymple took Miss Coombes’s hand and moved her out of the way. “Put your affairs in order tomorrow, sir. I will see you at dawn on Sunday morning.”
Without pausing for a response, Mr Dalrymple propelled Miss Coombes out of the room.
Colt reeled in wonder that his first attempt at being honourable had resulted in being challenged to a duel.