This delighted Adela.
Perhaps she would not need to confront her, for who was this diamond without others to do her cruel bidding? Ambrose now had a manly, quite apish look on his face as turned to Felicity Rose and her crowd. “Stay close to Dillie and her husband. Do not follow me.”
“Where are you going?” But she knew by the determined glint in his eyes that he was about to issue a warning to the toadies still hovering around the malicious girl.
This is exactly what he did, striding toward Felicity Rose’s circle with the intent of asserting his dominance.
He had forbidden her from so much as curling her fists, but he now had his own fists curled and was silently daring them all to fight.
Was it wrong of her to adore that surprisingly barbarian quality about him?
Adela had to admit, she liked this protect-my-woman attitude. He had a warrior’s agility and the prowess to pull it off.
They would have laughed at her and called her deranged if she had attempted the same, she supposed.
She had not seen the knife in Brynmore’s hand, but had felt the slightest prick to her back just before Ambrose wrenched the bounder from her side and forced him to his knees.
Dillie and Finn Brayden’s wife, Belle, joined her as she watched Ambrose in all his manly splendor. Their husbands had gone off with Brynmore to make certain he did not attempt to sneak back inside.
Dillie giggled. “They really enjoy behaving like apes. All this etiquette and civility grates on their nerves sometimes. Huntsford will come back to you with his chest puffed out and probably do something wonderfully stupid like sweep you into his arms. My twin, Lily, wrote a wonderful monograph comparing dominant male baboons to men. You should have heard the uproar she caused in the Royal Society. But those Fellows are all cowards, scared to death of any intelligent woman.”
Belle, a pretty blonde with a sweet manner about her, chuckled. “You probably know this already, but Lily’s husband, Ewan Cameron, is the Duke of Lotheil’s grandson. He’s a big, brawny Scot and fiercely protective of Lily.”
Adela laughed. “Yes, I have been fully versed on your amazing family. I am so impressed by all of you, and readily see why your husbands adore you.”
“Our big, apish husbands,” Belle said with a giggle. “They are all this way, the wonderful proof of Lily’s hypothesis.”
“I doubt the Duke of Huntsford will ever be so brazen as to carry me off in his arms,” Adela said, hoping not to sound wistful. “He is too controlled.”
Belle shook her head. “No one is more controlled than Finn. His mind is all facts and figures, but even he has his wonderfully male baboon moments. Are you all right, Adela? Forgive me, may I call you that? We haven’t been formally introduced, but you have met most of my family, and I already feel as though you are one of us.”
“Please do. I adore your family. I wish I had grown up with siblings. But alas, there is only me.”
Dillie inspected the back of Adela’s gown. “Come upstairs to the ladies retiring room with us. There is a spot of blood at the small of your back. Huntsford is going to go wild if he sees it. We cannot have him kill Brynmore.”
“Dear heaven. Please, let’s go right now. I don’t feel anything. Are you sure it is blood?”
Dillie nodded. “A very small spot. He must have nicked you while attempting to get at that first lacing. It might have happened while Huntsford grabbed his hand to draw him away. But don’t even suggest it to Huntsford or he will never forgive himself.”
“Take her upstairs, Dillie,” Belle said. “I’ll follow you as soon as I get some brandy to cleanse the cut. It cannot be deep, but if it broke skin, then it must be cleaned out.”
Adela was not about to protest.
She and Dillie hurried upstairs.
The ladies retiring room was empty, which was a great relief considering the hour of the night and the crowd. But supper had now been called so everyone was on their way to the dining hall for the meal that was certain to be a feast.
Dillie quickly unlaced her.
Belle hurried in a moment later. “I have the brandy.”
The mark on her back was little more than a pin prick, but it had drawn a drop of blood and Adela did not trust the condition of Brynmore’s knife. It could not have been kept clean, for that toady was not a fastidious fellow.
Quite the opposite, he was lax and lazy.
She flinched only slightly as they used a handkerchief to apply the brandy to her skin.
Dillie then held the handkerchief to the spot and kept it there as they laced her gown so that the delicate cloth served as a makeshift bandage. They also managed to scrub out the tiny bloodstain on the silk.
