So far Miss Morgan hadn’t harmed anyone in this dance, and he was oddly growing hopeful that she’d make it through the song without incident.
Such had become his life.
He needed some air, and he’d only been at the ball for an hour.
Twisting his lips, he glanced back at the hall and made the decision to head that direction.
As the music ended, he made his way toward the hall and the promise of some fresher air found in the garden beyond.
The stars were visible from the stone patio, and he took a deep breath of the recently rain-soaked air. Various couples were milling about, some laughing loudly, others speaking softly, all self-involved and ignoring him, just as he liked it.
The music from the ballroom carried into the evening, and he found it soothing to his tight nerves. When the next song ended, he sighed, spun on his heel and headed back to the ballroom. Just as he was halfway down the hall, he heard the unmistakable sound of shattering crystal.
His blood froze, the sound echoing in his memory like a ricocheting bullet.
The sound reminded him of his father hurling the crystal port decanter at the wall.
The shattered fragments were a symbol of what his life had become when he broke the news that fateful day.
Divorced.
Betrayed.
No heir.
Scandal.
Ramsey took a deep breath and pulled himself into the present, shaking his head to dispel the haunting memories. Striding forward, he tried to leave his thoughts behind him just as another sobering thought hit him.
Miss Grace. Bloody hell,tell me it wasn’t something she did.
Why did he have the sneaking suspicion that she was at the heart of whatever just broke in the ballroom? The buzzing of people’s words filtered through the hall like a beehive, and he could have sworn her name was on the breeze.
As he got to the edge of the ballroom, the sea of people parted just enough for him to get a quick glance at the activity that had caused all the fuss.
Miss Morgan was desperately trying to assist. Good Lord, was that Lady Downing? Damn it all to hell. This was going to be horrific. Ramsey searched desperately for Heathcliff and Lady Kilpatrick.
Samantha was pushing through the crowd, rather brazenly in fact, and was soon standing beside Miss Grace, helping Lady Downing right herself. Once the dowager was again seated, Lady Kilpatrick and Miss Grace handed several handkerchiefs to the woman, only to have a footman appear with more napkins to assist, while another footman bent to collect the scattered crystal.
Miss Morgan glanced up.
Pale skin was quickly turning a bright red of humiliation as she cast her eyes down in what was a classic expression of self-recrimination.
That was when the scolding started.
“Good Lord, girl. Why try to kill me? It won’t get you noticed, I guarantee that! And where are your manners? What in heaven’s name is the matter with you? Didn’t you ever learn to walk slowly? And for Pete’s sake, watch where you are going!” Lady Downing glared, her rheumy eyes boring through Miss Grace.
Ramsey gave a slight shiver.
He’d happily face down any loan shark over an offended dowager any day.
A loan shark can be bought.
A disgruntled dowager’s wrath was as cold as a glacier, and just as severe.
Bloody hell, where the devil was Heathcliff?
The bastard was just arriving on the hellish scene. But Ramsey was quite certain that even Heathcliff’s legendary charm was going to have a worthy foe in the face of Lady Downing’s wrath.
