“Can’t you see what’s going on?”
“No, you idiot, I cannot!”
He stiffened for a moment, then all of a sudden he said, “My God, you’re blind, aren’t you?”
“Alas, yes,” she retorted, embarrassment and anger making her harsh.
“I didn’t realize. I just thought…” He sounded so surprised that Rose knew he genuinely didn’t recognize the fact until just now.
Then he recovered himself. “Well, let me tell you what I can see, Miss Blake.” Marsh continued to move, keeping them in time with the music. “It appears that Hynes and his cronies are across the room, viewing us with considerable disappointment. Certainly they expected a different outcome. I wouldn’t put it beyond that group to have placed bets on how many times you tripped on the floor, or something equally distasteful.” His tone was one of pure contempt.
“He didn’t seem that bad,” Rosalind noted. “Until he left me, that is.”
“I wouldn’t trust Hynes to treat a dog well, let alone a lady.” Marsh tightened his grip on her slightly. “I hope you don’t mind I kept you dancing. It seemed preferable to simply leading you off in the middle of a set. Less noticeable, that is.”
“Are people looking at me?” she asked apprehensively.
“Only as much as anyone will look at a beautiful woman.” The words rolled easily off his tongue, and the way he spoke them so close to her ear made her flush, even as she tried to dismiss the obvious flattery.
He went on, “I suspect that most of the guests didn’t even notice what occurred, or they’ve chosen a more benign explanation for Hynes’s sudden departure. People spend most of their lives absorbed in their own little worlds.”
The music ended before she could reply to that. They both applauded with the rest of the dancers, but Marsh’s touch soon returned.
“Would you like to step outside, Miss Blake? It’s cooler there…with less scrutiny.”
She turned toward him, gauging his tone, weighing the possibility that this would end badly. Then she felt the sticky heat of the room again, and simply said, “Yes, please.”
Without waiting a moment longer, Mr. Marsh led her to the garden doors, where a breeze came in to cool the guests. He stepped outside and offered his arm by slipping it toward her own. She took it not with one hand, but both. The gesture would normally have implied a greater intimacy, but for Rosalind, it was simply the safest way to walk in an unfamiliar place.
“Are there stairs?” she asked quietly. “I left my walking stick with my cousin, and it’s hard to judge my steps without it.”
“Yes, there are six wide stairs down to the path, in about five paces.”
She nodded, and he guided her down the steps to a gravel pathway, keeping her to the center as they walked.
“There, you’re on the terrace now. No more steps to navigate. So you are here with your family?” he added curiously.
“Yes. Oh, I should have told Mother and Poppy where I am! They’ll worry if they can’t find me.”
“We’ll go in shortly,” he promised. “I just thought you’d like a moment to compose yourself.”
“Thank you,” Rosalind said. “And please forgive me. I was very rude earlier, on the dance floor. It was chivalrous of you to rescue me, and I called you an idiot.”
“Chivalrous? Me?” He laughed at the suggestion, and his laugh was a sort of pleasant rumble, settling around Rose and making her feel much better about this impulsive decision to trust him.
They walked farther from the house, along a gravel path that crunched under her feet. The night air was a balm, and Rose breathed easier. Without her walking stick, she had to keep quite close to her escort, but she was aware that he was walking slowly and with care to allow her to keep up.
“It was lucky you noticed what happened.”
“To be honest, I was watching you,” he said bluntly.
“Why?” she asked, mystified.
“We’re coming to a bench, Miss Blake. Under a carefully pruned cherry tree, nicely secluded without being completely out of sight of the general crowd, in case you’re worried about your reputation. Why don’t you sit for a moment? You seem a bit shaky, if you don’t mind my saying.”
She was still trembling in the aftershock of what had happened, and sitting seemed like a fine idea. He led Rosalind to the stone bench and encouraged her to sit. She relinquished her hold on his arm, now that she had no reason to be escorted. But he sat down beside her in such a way that had he moved one inch closer, their thighs would touch.
“Why were you watching?” she repeated.
