stomach, shoulders, and knees? She could not explain the encompassment, but she didn’t need to explain it. Not to anyone. Not even to herself. Everything faded but the sweetness of that paramount sensation . . . until Mathew was suddenly pulled away.
Bianca opened her eyes, blinked, and then reality descended in the same moment that Mathew went flying backward.
Women screamed—herself included—and guests scrambled out of the way. Two men took Lord Strapshire by the shoulders to hold him back when he lunged forward. Bianca turned to Mathew, who had rolled to his knees, the end of his coat flipped up to his shoulders. She took one step toward him before a familiar, viselike grip surrounded her arm and yanked her in the other direction. She stumbled after Mama, but looked back toward Mathew. Someone was helping him to his feet, and she saw a crimson stain on his shirtfront.
“He’s hurt,” she said, trying to pull toward him.
“As he deserves!” Mama was fairly crushing Bianca’s arm as she continued to pull her through the tittering crowd. They exited the ballroom and continued down the hall before they reached a closed door. Mama opened it and pushed Bianca into the room, causing her to barely keep her balance until she caught herself on a desk. Her head was spinning. She turned to face her mother, who immediately slapped her hard across the face. Bianca yelped as stars popped before her eyes. She stared in shock at her mother as tears began to rise. She could not find a single word to say.
“How dare you allow yourself to be treated like a common tramp!”
“Mama!” Bianca said, even more shocked by the words than she’d been by the attack. She took a step to the side of the desk, attempting to put a barrier between them. She had seen her mother angry before, but never like this. More tears came to her eyes, but she tried to blink them away.
Mama paused and then her face fell as she seemed to realize what she’d done. “I am sorry,” she said quickly, her breathing coming fast. She moved toward Bianca, who cowered from her. “I did not mean . . .” She paused for a deep breath. She spoke with forced calm “Have you any idea what such a display says of you? Of your family?”
“I did not invite . . .” Bianca’s words trailed off. Hadn’t she invited that kiss? She had known Mathew was going to kiss her a moment before he’d done so; she’d even raised her hands to push him away. But she hadn’t pushed him away. In fact, she had parted her lips when he beckoned her to do so as though their movements were part of some other dance designed only for them. She had tasted the sweetness of his kiss, and she had wanted more. Even now, amid the shock and horror of the last few moments, she could feel the warmth of his kiss upon her lips.
“You are a selfish girl!” Mama said as she began to pace and wring her hands. “Oh, what shall we do now? How shall we overcome this disgrace? What will Lord Strapshire think?”
Hearing his name—the impetus of this entire affair—brought Bianca back to herself. “I do not care what Lord Strapshire thinks.”
Mama took a quick step toward Bianca, but when Bianca pulled back—afraid she would be struck again—Mama stopped. “How can you say that?” she said in almost a whisper, as though the very furniture in the room would object to any disparaging comment made about the baron.
“I can say it because I do not want his attention,” Bianca said. “As I have tried to tell you many times. It is you who wants him for me.”
“Because I am your mother, and I know what is best for you.”
“Like Miss Crawford’s school was the best for me?” Bianca spat. “Beatings and starvation for months on end?”
Mama pulled back, her face pale. “I did all I could to remedy that.”
“Yes, and I am glad for it, but it does not change the months of torment I received at Miss Crawford’s hand—torment that you initially ignored—and it does not
Bianca opened her eyes, blinked, and then reality descended in the same moment that Mathew went flying backward.
Women screamed—herself included—and guests scrambled out of the way. Two men took Lord Strapshire by the shoulders to hold him back when he lunged forward. Bianca turned to Mathew, who had rolled to his knees, the end of his coat flipped up to his shoulders. She took one step toward him before a familiar, viselike grip surrounded her arm and yanked her in the other direction. She stumbled after Mama, but looked back toward Mathew. Someone was helping him to his feet, and she saw a crimson stain on his shirtfront.
“He’s hurt,” she said, trying to pull toward him.
“As he deserves!” Mama was fairly crushing Bianca’s arm as she continued to pull her through the tittering crowd. They exited the ballroom and continued down the hall before they reached a closed door. Mama opened it and pushed Bianca into the room, causing her to barely keep her balance until she caught herself on a desk. Her head was spinning. She turned to face her mother, who immediately slapped her hard across the face. Bianca yelped as stars popped before her eyes. She stared in shock at her mother as tears began to rise. She could not find a single word to say.
“How dare you allow yourself to be treated like a common tramp!”
“Mama!” Bianca said, even more shocked by the words than she’d been by the attack. She took a step to the side of the desk, attempting to put a barrier between them. She had seen her mother angry before, but never like this. More tears came to her eyes, but she tried to blink them away.
Mama paused and then her face fell as she seemed to realize what she’d done. “I am sorry,” she said quickly, her breathing coming fast. She moved toward Bianca, who cowered from her. “I did not mean . . .” She paused for a deep breath. She spoke with forced calm “Have you any idea what such a display says of you? Of your family?”
“I did not invite . . .” Bianca’s words trailed off. Hadn’t she invited that kiss? She had known Mathew was going to kiss her a moment before he’d done so; she’d even raised her hands to push him away. But she hadn’t pushed him away. In fact, she had parted her lips when he beckoned her to do so as though their movements were part of some other dance designed only for them. She had tasted the sweetness of his kiss, and she had wanted more. Even now, amid the shock and horror of the last few moments, she could feel the warmth of his kiss upon her lips.
“You are a selfish girl!” Mama said as she began to pace and wring her hands. “Oh, what shall we do now? How shall we overcome this disgrace? What will Lord Strapshire think?”
Hearing his name—the impetus of this entire affair—brought Bianca back to herself. “I do not care what Lord Strapshire thinks.”
Mama took a quick step toward Bianca, but when Bianca pulled back—afraid she would be struck again—Mama stopped. “How can you say that?” she said in almost a whisper, as though the very furniture in the room would object to any disparaging comment made about the baron.
“I can say it because I do not want his attention,” Bianca said. “As I have tried to tell you many times. It is you who wants him for me.”
“Because I am your mother, and I know what is best for you.”
“Like Miss Crawford’s school was the best for me?” Bianca spat. “Beatings and starvation for months on end?”
Mama pulled back, her face pale. “I did all I could to remedy that.”
“Yes, and I am glad for it, but it does not change the months of torment I received at Miss Crawford’s hand—torment that you initially ignored—and it does not
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