Before she could formulate a reply, the low rustle of movement behind her signaled that someone—either the earl or countess—was preparing to step out into the corridor. It would be a greater disaster if the earl or the countess saw her.
“Excuse me,” Maryann whispered. She swept past him quickly, clutching the edges of her gown, and hurried down the hall.
She did not know what possessed her to glance back, but when she did, she found him following, his long strides deceptively unhurried, his expression unreadable and faintly amused.
Maryann stopped and turned to face him. “Are you following me?”
His gaze lit with humor. “I see you are still quite naive in the ways of the world.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“It is instinct. When a lady runs, a gentleman of my sort is expected to give chase. Was that not your intention?”
She made a small, incredulous sound. “A gentleman ofyoursort? What does that mean, and it was most certainly not my intention!”
He did not answer, but the tilt of his head and the gleam in his eye suggested he relished the provocation.
Maryann’s heart pounded. She could not bear for the countess to find her loitering in the hall with her son, much less imagine she had been caught listening at doors. Without another word, she turned into the nearest room, closed the door firmly, and slid the latch into place with a decisivesnick.
Only then did she draw a breath.
Something in Lord Ranford’s expression had warned her he would have followed. And she needed at least a minute alone, in silence, before she would feel ready to face anything. She leaned back against the door, closed her eyes, and tried to think—tried to envision a way out for herself and Sarah, some means of escape that did not involve abject humiliation or utter dependence.
A sudden, soft scratching reached her ears. Her eyes flew open in time to see the viscount slipping through the open window.
“My lord!” she gasped, utterly stunned. “I cannot conceive that you would—”
“What, never climbed through a window before?” he drawled, unrepentant. “Alas, the things I do when I’m intrigued, and my mother’s sharp tongue and glowering glare are absent.” He cast a glance around the room, then back at her. “And you have me at a disadvantage. You know who I am, but I’ve yet to be introduced.”
Maryann felt almost disposed of rational thoughts. He was outrageous.
“I am Miss Maryann Winton, my lord,” she replied as evenly as she could manage, though the warmth rising in her cheeks rather gave her away.
His expression shifted.
For the briefest moment, disappointment crossed his face. His body stilled, his amusement dimmed. “Miss Winton,” he said. “I see.”
She frowned. “You know of me, my lord?”
A rueful half-smile curved his mouth. “No.”
“I… you seemed disappointed.”
“I merely thought you might be someone on the list.”
She blinked. “List? What list?”
He waved a hand as if brushing it all away. “A mistaken assumption. I followed you for the wrong reasons. Please do not read too much into this, and I apologize for any inconvenience.”
The devilish man vanished, replaced by a polished, proper lord. It was astonishing how quickly the transformation occurred.
“I would be most obliged,” she said carefully, “if you did not mention that I… I…”
“You were eavesdropping?” he supplied, a glimmer of amusement returning to his eyes.
Maryann flushed. The memory of the countess’s voice, so cold and cutting, echoed in her mind. She could not bear the idea of being sent away before her sisters had even been welcomed.
“I would owe you a favor, my lord,” she said, lifting her chin and meeting his gaze, even as her composure strained beneath the weight of it.
