One #3
“And I find you a bore,” Constance replied calmly even as her chest tightened with alarm. She didn’t need this. Didn’t want it. He’d have his eye on her all night, and she’d never be able to run away—
“Captain Ardmore, you have not yet danced with Lady Mary Alice.”
Headmistress Hillary’s intervention could not have been more welcome. The headmistress was a dour Scottish lady who was no one’s fool, as Constance had learned repeatedly, much to her regret.
Apparently the captain also had a healthy respect for Headmistress Hillary. He released his hold on Constance’s arm, glancing around and realizing he’d been in danger of creating a scene.
“Yes, I do believe I owe Lady Mary Alice a dance. If you will excuse me?” he said with a bow.
“Of course,” the headmistress answered.
Dismissed, Captain Ardmore turned to find a very anxious Lady Mary Alice waiting for him a few steps away. Headmistress Hillary watched until the couple was walking toward the dance floor before asking, “What was going on?” Her pleasant manner belied her keen interest.
“I did not encourage his advances, Headmistress Hillary,” Constance said in her defense.
The headmistress’s smile said she knew better. “The next time you deliver a set down, please don’t resort to violence. A fan is for attracting, not attacking.” Her clipped, Scot accent gave the rebuke even more weight.
“Yes, headmistress. I shall be more docile in the future.”
Headmistress Hillary met her eye. “I doubt that, Miss Constance. However, I shall endeavor to remember how uncivilized you were when you first arrived. Almost a savage. If I succeed in taming you, then the success will be my life’s reward.”
It was going to give Constance great pleasure to disappoint her. She bobbed a curtsey. “I pray that I may become a model of propriety, Headmistress, the better to prove the importance of your educational methods.”
“Sarcasm is the lowest form of humor, Miss Constance. I don’t like you any more than you like me. But understand, I shall succeed.”
Constance thought of the clothing bundle waiting for her beneath the bushes.
“Yes, Headmistress.” She was tempted to punctuate her words by wiping her nose on the puffed sleeve of her dress, but refrained.
The dress was a sore spot between them. Constance had wanted to wear one of emerald green, a color that would not be noticed in the night when she made her escape.
Headmistress Hillary had insisted that all the girls be dressed in white, as befit their unmarried state.
Constance had protested, but as always happened in her battles at the school, Headmistress Hillary won. She held all the control, which only fueled Constance’s determination to run away. She hated being portrayed as some American rustic who was all but a lost cause save for English manners.
“Now, let us find you another dancing partner—” Headmistress Hillary’s voice broke off as her gaze went to the door, where a new guest had arrived. Constance turned to see who it was that had caught the headmistress’s attention.
A gentleman handed his hat to a servant, a gentleman with the looks of Apollo come to life. A tall, golden-haired god blessing their poor assembly with his radiant presence.
Even the musicians put down their instruments to gape, and Constance found herself staring as well.
His coat had seen better days and the riding gloves he removed were exactly that, riding gloves, used and abused.
But no one cared. His shoulders were broad, his limbs long and strong, his manner confident.
Candlelight caught the gold in his hair, the hollows in his cheeks, the aristocratic, masculine line of his nose and jaw.
There wasn’t a person in the room who hadn’t marked him for a gentleman.
Feminine interest stirred. Breasts were lifted higher, lips were licked, fans fluttered.
His appearance raised the stakes of their country dance.
He was the Unknown. The Stranger. The evening suddenly promised to be a night like no other.
Captain Ardmore was vanquished from all minds.
This golden gentleman had now become the prize.
“Who is he?” Constance whispered, speaking her thoughts aloud.
“I don’t know,” Headmistress Hillary said, sounding dazed herself. “But I shall find out.” She moved forward to greet him as the mysterious gentleman walked into the room with the fluid grace of an athlete.
And Constance realized that although this stranger was handsome, she had no time for weak knees and heart flutters. Here was the distraction she had hoped for. While everyone else’s wits were man-addled, she would make her escape.
But before she could take a step toward the door, the gentleman looked right at her.
His sharp eyes took in everything about her, from her new kid slippers, to her silk stockings and demure debutante’s dress in virginal white muslin and lace, to the lock of hair that had been plaguing her all evening by threatening to tumble out of its hairpin…
and she had the uncanny sense that he’d come to search her out.
Unsettled by the disquieting thought, Constance knew that if she was wise, she’d best leave now.