Chapter 12 #2
“And what of your reputation, Miss Ashford?” He shot back. “You are the one who was traveling alone on the road and jumping into rivers. You are the one who plays fast and loose with a lady’s virtue.”
She smiled. “Fortunately, no one knows about that. Well, no one except one Duke of St. James. And I am very much hoping that he will keep my secret.”
“And why would I do that?”
Her smile grew more wicked. “Well, if people knew that you rescued me from the river, that you carried me in your arms, and that you had seen me soaked through to the bone, well… They would insist that you marry me.”
Rupert wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or gape at her.
In his excitement on realizing that she was not in fact a governess but a lady, it had not occurred to him just how compromising the situation they had been in was.
But she was right. If anyone knew about it, they would insist that he offer for her.
The music crescendoed, then came to its final note, and Rupert bowed as Miss Ashford swept into a curtsy. Then they looked up at one another. Her eyes were still sparkling.
“I know you do not want to be forced into marriage with a woman you hardly know,” she murmured. She held out her hand, and he took it. “So I suppose you shall have to keep my secret for now. And only one of us will have to contend with a reputation that makes others whisper behind their fans.”
Rupert led her off of the dance floor, saying nothing for a moment.
A strange, electric energy seemed to be moving up through him.
He hadn’t felt this alive since they had been on the road together, like energy was coursing through him, like he could have talked and sparred with her all evening. He’d missed this feeling.
“I would not be so sure of that,” he said, turning her so that they were facing one another. “I did hear one whisper that you might be a spy for Napoleon…”
But he was laughing now, and so was she.
“I heard that one, too,” she said, working to keep the smile from her face. “But seeing as how Napoleon is dead, I hardly give it countenance.”
He laughed, then sobered. She looked so beautiful with her cheeks flushed and laughter dancing in her eyes.
“I am surprised you did not ask after my wound,” he said after a moment. “The last time we met, I was on death’s door.”
Her eyes went wide. “Your Grace… I do apologize. I was so caught up in the discovery of your real identity that I forgot. How is the wound?”
He laughed and shook his head. “Do not feel bad. I was only jesting. I had the finest medical treatment in London, and I am fully mended now.”
“I am glad about that,” she said softly. “I was worried for you. And I did think that I would never see you again, never get a chance to make sure that you were well.”
“I would not have been worried about that if I were you,” he said. “I knew where you lived, or at least I thought I did. I would have been back to check up on the spirited governess who loves to jump in rivers.”
At that moment, a man appeared by Miss Ashford’s side, and Rupert looked up to see Nathaniel Carlton standing next to her.
“Carlton!” He said, bowing his head. “It is good to see you.”
“Your Grace,” Nathaniel said, bowing as well. “How do you do?”
His eyes showed no sign of surprise or recognition, and Rupert wondered if his sister had ever mentioned the strange man who had recuperated at Pendleton Manor. His eyes swept the ballroom, and he saw Miss Vivienne Carlton watching them from across the room.
Her eyes were wide, and she looked nervous, which made him think she had recognized him and figured out his real identity. But she clearly had not told her brother.
Which meant Miss Ashford’s secret was safe. For now.
“Miss Ashford, may I have the honor of the next dance?” Nathaniel asked Miss Ashford, and she nodded.
“Of course,” she murmured, but when she took Nathaniel’s hand, she was still looking at Rupert.
“Thank you for the dance, Your Grace,” she murmured.
Then she was being swept away from him, back out onto the dance floor, and Rupert was left with a feeling of profound emptiness.
He watched as Miss Ashford and Nathaniel began dancing with one another.
She seemed entirely relaxed and at ease around him.
She was laughing, all her coyness gone, and she looked happy.
Something twinged between his ribcage, an ache that he could not entirely explain.
Who was Nathaniel to Miss Ashford? She clearly knew his sister, and was friends with her, which was why she had been going to Pendleton Manor to begin with.
Although maybe she had not been going to Pendleton Manor to see Miss Carlton. Maybe she had always been going there to see Nathaniel…
His throat clenched and he tried to swallow, with limited success.
“I heard you were unwell,” a voice said behind him, and he turned to see Miss Isabella Thornton standing there, a sugary smile on her lips.
“Miss Thornton,” he said, bowing low and mostly succeeding in hiding his surprise. “How do you do?”
“I am well,” she said, curtsying deeply. “You are the one who is not, from what I hear.”
Of course Miss Thornton had heard about his gunshot and illness.
She had been interested in him once, and pursued him with the single-mindedness that only a young lady of the ton could have, but although he cared for her, they had not been a good match.
They were friendly now, and she joined him along the edge of the dance floor, watching the other dancers with him.
“I am well now,” he assured her. “The doctor has given me a clean bill of health.”
“Is it true you were shot?” she asked, looking him over with interest.
“Where did you hear that?” he asked, surprised.
“The ton knows everything,” Miss Thornton said, giving a girlish little laugh. And to his discomfort, he saw her eyes settle on Miss Ashford. “Everything…”