‘And?’ he said, coming closer.
‘And what?’
‘I would beg your name.’
‘And you shall not know it, Sir,’ she said, swallowing hard.
‘Why? Is it secret?’
‘No.’ Grace glanced towards the safety of the house and back to her interrogator. ‘I…I do not converse with strangers.’
‘Which we shall remain if you withhold your name. Oh, come on. Show some courage and own to it.’
Grace shook her head and tried to edge backwards towards the house. For every small step back, her tormentor took several forward. His nearness alarmed her, and Rawden Voss was taller and broader out in the wilds of the garden than he had been in the elegance confines of the ballroom, as if he had grown to fill the space around him.
‘I would have a name for this juicy little chicken that stands before me, plump of breast and shiny of feather,’ said the insufferable Rawden as he reached out a hand and stroked the feather bobbing with outrage in her hair.
All Grace’s good sense and bluestocking studies went out of her head. No scathing retort came to mind, nor would it work on this rogue. ‘Sir, you should not approach me, for we have not been formally introduced,’ she said.
‘And you are alone with no husband to protect you.’ He smiled again. ‘Thank God, you are not wed to that fat toad you came in with, for it would be a sad waste of youth and beauty. Though if you were, perhaps he would not have let you wander off alone in the dark and end up with me.’
‘I need no permission to do anything, Sir.’
‘An independent spirit. How refreshing.’ He narrowed his eyes, looking her up and down, and Grace’s skin prickled with goosebumps. ‘Were you not enjoying the company of your friends?’ he said, his dark eyes demanding honesty.
‘I…they were not really…’
‘You should run along, back to those twittering simpletons. There is safety in numbers.’
Grace bridled. Was he calling her a twittering simpleton? How dare he insult her. As she groped for an insult to hurl back, he came right up to her, invading her space.
‘You must know that the lions pick off the stragglers in the herd? Or are you hoping to be preyed upon?’
‘Whatever can you mean?’
He sighed. ‘Do you really have no idea, or are you playing with me?’ He gave a bitter laugh. ‘God help me, but it seems I have found the only innocent heart in this little hell of Lady Blanchard’s. You should not be here, Miss.’ He pointed to her bare feet. ‘I will keep your little indiscretion to myself if you tell me why you are out here all alone?’
‘I just wanted to get some air, for it is insufferably hot in there.’
‘Likewise. I, too, sought solitude and a respite from the young ladies.’
‘I am not avoiding the young ladies.’
‘Aren’t you? I certainly am. And I advise you to do the same.’
His voice was so deep and dark that it made a shiver run up Grace’s spine. ‘Excuse my intrusion, Sir. I should re-join my party.’
‘You are an intrusion indeed, but it is not to say the intrusion is unwelcome.’
‘It was not my intention to speak to anyone, Sir. I must go if you will not. I cannot stay here with you.’
‘Come now. You do not strike me as the timid type.’ He glanced at her feet again. ‘Such pretty little toes. Come, have you no rebellion in your soul? Do you not enjoy flirting with danger? If you seek respite from the hot company of fools and parasites, I fear we must share the darkness and the cool night air, for I will not give way to you.’ He smiled.
‘Then I must leave. You can afford to be casually reckless with my honour, but I cannot,’ she hissed.
He smirked. ‘Why not? Is your honour not yours, to do with as you please?’
‘I am a woman, Sir. I can never do as I please.’
