With only the muted laughter and music from the ball to keep him company, Aylesbury watched Fiona run back towards Harrowby’s townhouse and, most likely, into the earl’s waiting arms.She was running away from more than his embrace, Aylesbury realized.She was running from herself.But why?Why fight it when she wanted him as much as he wanted her?
Given their obvious shared attraction, her antagonism toward him was nearly inexplicable.As he had deduced, she raised it like a shield between them and wielded it like a sword to drive him away.
Why?Because of Ramsay?Aylesbury laughed at the thought.Surely not.
Because of the past between them?
That was far more likely.
Chapter 18
I just recalled another passage from Oscar Wilde’s A Picture of Dorian Grey: ‘The only way to get rid of temptation is to yield to it.’
I find it rather convenient that that would be the passage that leapt to mind after what happened this morning.It was all I could do not to put action to words.
~From the journal of the Marquis of Aylesbury—Mar 1893
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Astrangled cry rangover the music, and Aylesbury turned toward the townhouse at a jog.Carriages were lined up before Harrowby’s townhouse, but he saw no sign of anything amiss.
“Stop it,” a female voice demanded angrily, followed by another more panicked scream from the square’s east corner.Skirts flashed behind the first carriage in line before disappearing.A few of the waiting coachmen who hadn’t shown any concern moments before turned at that scream.One standing high in his box tossed aside his cigar with a curse just as another cry sounded.
“Oithere!Leave that lady be!”
Then...“Harry!”
It was Fiona!Startled into action, he bolted in that direction and merged with a trio of liveried drivers on the brick sidewalk.At the corner of the square, he could see her fighting against her attacker as he tried to bodily lift her into the carriage.
She struggled and kicked with all she was worth, and beneath his fear, he felt a burst of pride for her bravery and not a lick of pity for the man evoking her fury.
“Let me go,” she screamed as her assailant lifted her around the waist, throwing her elbow back into his face.The man howled in pain and released her, clutching his nose.She dropped to the ground and sat there breathing heavily as Aylesbury and the coachman arrived.
Lifting her into his arms, he ran his hands over her, checking for injuries while the coachmen ran off in pursuit of her attacker as he fled, leaving his carriage and horse behind...if they were his at all.She was trembling beneath his touch, clearly shaken by the attack.“Are you all right?Did he hurt you?”
She shook her head and melted into his embrace.Her arms wound around his waist as she buried her face in his chest.He stroked her hair comfortingly, though inwardly, he seethed with rage, wishing he might pursue the ruthless lout himself.
