He rolled his eyes but seemed to give her an odd head jiggle in acceptance.
A gentleman in a finely tailored green coat strode past, and Lord Hale halted him with a hand to his sleeve. “Wycliff!” he boomed.
The man turned, a woman on his arm, to face the group.
“Hale, always a pleasure.” He turned his gaze on Mary. “And who is this?”
Boxton hurried to make the introductions. “Wycliff, this is Miss Mary White. Mary, this is Sir Humphrey Wycliff.”
Mary curtseyed politely. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Sir Wycliff.”
Wycliff gestured to the woman on his arm. “This is my dance partner, Miss Lucille—”
Reddington eagerly leapt forward to point somewhere across the ballroom. “There is our friend. I wish to introduce you, Mary. Just a moment, I shall fetch him.” Reddington disappeared into the crowd.
“Lord knows it is not Pondridge,” Kerr murmured.
“Inebriated in the card room again,” Jackson scoffed.
A small gasp escaped Mary, but she disguised it in a laugh along with the others. Panic, swift and powerful raced through her. Lord Winning was the “friend” that Reddington wished her to meet.
Oh no, oh no, oh no!Her gaze darted about for an escape. If Frederick saw her, her cover would undoubtedly be blown. He knew her as one of his crofters’ daughters and from her friendship with Gabriel as children. Her identity was going to be compromised! Oh heavens, she could be killed this very night!
Suddenly the cloying scent in the ballroom was too much.
She fanned her face. “This is quite a crush! I believe I need some air. Please excuse me.”
Without waiting for a response, Mary spun on her heel, weaving her way through the sea of rainbow silks and cutaway coats toward the doors leading to the portico. Bursting into the fresh air, Mary gasped a great, long breath of the crisp night.
What was she to do now? She could not very well remain at the ball, for her identity as Miss White was paramount.
She must return to Gabriel and find Hydra.
Turning once more on her heel, she bounced, unladylike, off of a large, solid male chest.
“Oh, pardon me—” She stepped back to lift her gaze up to the man and was arrested at the sight.
Lord Boxton stood, his devouring, lascivious gaze boring menacingly into her. Her stomach quivered with fear, but she smiled, forcing it to reach her eyes.
“Hello, Tony. I apologize for my abruptness in leaving the ballroom. I had quite lost myself in the heat and required a reprieve. I appreciate your concern, but I feel much revived now.”
She made to move past him, but he caught her arm. “Have I told you, Mary, of my formidable temper?”
With a brittle smile she turned her gaze up into his threateningly and frighteningly lustful countenance. Mary knew that Boxton took pleasure in abusing women, and likely enjoyed them contrite and fearful. She would play along until they were in a more private setting and could defend herself, or at least until she could get away.
“You promised me one night with you, Mary.” His green gaze darkened as he spoke. “And I did not receive it.”
She stepped back, prepared for his attack. “Mr. Spencer swept me away so quickly, I scarcely had time to think!”
“Did he, indeed?” His grip on her arm tightened. “Shall we take a stroll in the gardens?”
She affected a quivering lip and nodded, allowing him to lead her off of the portico and onto the brightly lit garden path. They kept walking, past the light of the torches and lanterns, and into the shadows.
The night was dark and the garden was still. Even the night creatures seemed to understand the gravity of her circumstance and held their breath in wait.
Boxton roughly pushed her into the darkness behind a tall hedge and pounced at her, pressing his lips hard down on hers. Mary recoiled. He wanted her to fight back, to give him a challenge. She was most happy to oblige.
With a muffledthump, Mary slapped him across the face with her gloved hand. “You, sir, are entirely too forward.” She pressed her fingertips to her bottom lip. “Must you kiss me so hard? You cut my lip!”
