together.
"Hilarious,
madam."
Milli
let out a snort of amusement and Elizabeth's icy gaze shot to her.
"Sorry," Milli said, lowering her eyes as she sat upon the trunk.
Elizabeth's
temper soared. This man was laughing at her as if she were some silly chit. Mr.
Fennington was a true gentleman—not at all like this man. Her fiancé would
never laugh at her like some uncaring beast. And where was Mr. Fennington,
anyway?
Anxiety
at the break in her plans soon replaced her rising anger. She needed to rid
herself of this detestable lord if she still wanted to make her escape tonight.
She took a deep breath, trying to calm the emotions surging through her.
"I
thank you for breaking my fall," she said, her tone softening.
"However, I am no longer in need of your chivalry. If you would be so kind
as to leave, I will be on my way."
The smile
in the man's eyes died. Before she could open her mouth, her sister did.
"Lizzie,
the man did save your life, and, well, he seems to know Mr. Fennington,
too."
A
sinking sensation filled Elizabeth as she took in the lord's taut expression when
Milli mentioned Mr. Fennington. "You may leave, sir. As you can see, I am
not injured. I have no more need of you."
"Too
devilish bad," the lord drawled, his gaze locking on an approaching form.
Then her dratted rescuer moved into the shadows, appearing even larger than he
had only seconds ago.
Elizabeth
glanced over her shoulder as a familiar blond head came into view. Relief swept
through her.
"Oh,
Mr. Fennington," she whispered. "Over here."
"I
fail to see what whispering will do," the man beside her interjected with
a sarcastic snort. "If we have not awakened the entire ballroom by now,
you may rest assured you are safe to speak." He shifted back a step and
glared at her bare shoulder.
With a
quick hand, Elizabeth scooted the material higher, scowling back at him.
"Ah,
dearest, I knew you would not fail me. I have the carriage waiting."
Fennington walked up to Elizabeth, his huge quizzing glass in hand as he
surveyed her appearance. "But my dear, whatever happened?"
"She
fell," came the deep baritone voice from the shadows.
Fennington's
quizzing glass dropped to his side. "You!"
"Me."
The lord's face took on a threatening twist.
Elizabeth's
heart pounded wildly as the tension in the air thickened to the consistency of
Cook's holiday pudding. She was surprised when Fennington took a step back. Her
fiancé's reaction bruised her pride. Was he afraid of the man?
"Mr.
Fennington," she said with a little laugh, "the most peculiar thing
happened. I was coming down that tree and thought you were there to catch me.
But in fact this—uh— gentleman broke my fall. But as you see, I do have my
things ready for—"
"Fennington,
how well you move around these days." The sharp words cut through the
night like a well-honed ax.
Fennington
raised his quizzing glass. "Ah, Lord Stephen Clearbrook, I thought I saw
you in a card game earlier."
Elizabeth
frowned at the flash of irritation on the intruder’s face. He seemed to stiffen
at Mr. Fennington's words. It was obvious the lord was readying for a fight.
Goodness knows this was the last thing she needed tonight.
"I
see you two have met before," she said, her thoughts racing. "Well,
Mr. Fennington, as I said before, this man saved me from a terrible fall, but I
have already thanked him. I believe I am ready to depart on our journey."
Hoping
she would not lose her nerve, she turned to her sister and gave her a hug.
"Good-bye, Milli. I will write—"
"You,
madam, are not leaving."
The
commanding words burst forth from the intruder with such imposing clarity,
Elizabeth froze. Seething with indignation, she turned around slowly, intending
to set this man straight, but she hesitated when she noted the dark scowl that
masked his face.
"I
do appreciate your help, Lord, um, Stephen Clearbrook, is it not? But Mr.
Fennington and I are deeply in love—"
Elizabeth
watched his expression change from
"Hilarious,
madam."
Milli
let out a snort of amusement and Elizabeth's icy gaze shot to her.
"Sorry," Milli said, lowering her eyes as she sat upon the trunk.
Elizabeth's
temper soared. This man was laughing at her as if she were some silly chit. Mr.
Fennington was a true gentleman—not at all like this man. Her fiancé would
never laugh at her like some uncaring beast. And where was Mr. Fennington,
anyway?
Anxiety
at the break in her plans soon replaced her rising anger. She needed to rid
herself of this detestable lord if she still wanted to make her escape tonight.
She took a deep breath, trying to calm the emotions surging through her.
"I
thank you for breaking my fall," she said, her tone softening.
"However, I am no longer in need of your chivalry. If you would be so kind
as to leave, I will be on my way."
The smile
in the man's eyes died. Before she could open her mouth, her sister did.
"Lizzie,
the man did save your life, and, well, he seems to know Mr. Fennington,
too."
A
sinking sensation filled Elizabeth as she took in the lord's taut expression when
Milli mentioned Mr. Fennington. "You may leave, sir. As you can see, I am
not injured. I have no more need of you."
"Too
devilish bad," the lord drawled, his gaze locking on an approaching form.
Then her dratted rescuer moved into the shadows, appearing even larger than he
had only seconds ago.
Elizabeth
glanced over her shoulder as a familiar blond head came into view. Relief swept
through her.
"Oh,
Mr. Fennington," she whispered. "Over here."
"I
fail to see what whispering will do," the man beside her interjected with
a sarcastic snort. "If we have not awakened the entire ballroom by now,
you may rest assured you are safe to speak." He shifted back a step and
glared at her bare shoulder.
With a
quick hand, Elizabeth scooted the material higher, scowling back at him.
"Ah,
dearest, I knew you would not fail me. I have the carriage waiting."
Fennington walked up to Elizabeth, his huge quizzing glass in hand as he
surveyed her appearance. "But my dear, whatever happened?"
"She
fell," came the deep baritone voice from the shadows.
Fennington's
quizzing glass dropped to his side. "You!"
"Me."
The lord's face took on a threatening twist.
Elizabeth's
heart pounded wildly as the tension in the air thickened to the consistency of
Cook's holiday pudding. She was surprised when Fennington took a step back. Her
fiancé's reaction bruised her pride. Was he afraid of the man?
"Mr.
Fennington," she said with a little laugh, "the most peculiar thing
happened. I was coming down that tree and thought you were there to catch me.
But in fact this—uh— gentleman broke my fall. But as you see, I do have my
things ready for—"
"Fennington,
how well you move around these days." The sharp words cut through the
night like a well-honed ax.
Fennington
raised his quizzing glass. "Ah, Lord Stephen Clearbrook, I thought I saw
you in a card game earlier."
Elizabeth
frowned at the flash of irritation on the intruder’s face. He seemed to stiffen
at Mr. Fennington's words. It was obvious the lord was readying for a fight.
Goodness knows this was the last thing she needed tonight.
"I
see you two have met before," she said, her thoughts racing. "Well,
Mr. Fennington, as I said before, this man saved me from a terrible fall, but I
have already thanked him. I believe I am ready to depart on our journey."
Hoping
she would not lose her nerve, she turned to her sister and gave her a hug.
"Good-bye, Milli. I will write—"
"You,
madam, are not leaving."
The
commanding words burst forth from the intruder with such imposing clarity,
Elizabeth froze. Seething with indignation, she turned around slowly, intending
to set this man straight, but she hesitated when she noted the dark scowl that
masked his face.
"I
do appreciate your help, Lord, um, Stephen Clearbrook, is it not? But Mr.
Fennington and I are deeply in love—"
Elizabeth
watched his expression change from
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