If it weren’t so damning to Miss Grace, the whole episode would have been diverting to watch.
But because of his loyalty, he thought it in bad form to reap any entertainment value from the situation.
Heathcliff began speaking to Lady Downing, his smile striking her with full force.
The old sour-faced woman actually gave a small smile in return.
This, this was why Heathcliff handled the disgruntled gamblers. He could charm the scales off a snake and then sell them back to it, for profit.
It was simply a stroke of some sort of benevolent God that Heathcliff had a small semblance of moral compass; God save them all if he didn’t.
Lady Kilpatrick slowly eased Miss Grace from the center of attention, after she’d, again, offered her apologies to the dowager. As they left the disaster zone, the spectating crowd parted for them, like Biblical Red Sea.
That, Ramsey decided, was not good.
He could almost hear the thoughts of the people watching their exodus.
Fool.
Don’t touch them.
Serves her right.
Untouchable . . .
Hadn’t he said that something was going to happen? He hated being right. Ramsey glanced back to Heathcliff, and seeing that he had the situation well in hand, Ramsey disappeared back into the crowd.
There was no further need for his presence and he started to head toward the exit, when he saw Lady Kilpatrick walk back into the ballroom, Miss Grace following close behind as they skirted the edge of the room. As Lady Kilpatrick continued, Ramsey noted that Miss Grace lagged further and further behind. The music had continued, the dancers were once again swirling about, but even with all the other distractions, he swore he could hear her thoughts.
They’re right.
I don’t belong.
What was I thinking?
Unworthy.
Maybe it was because he had spoken those words to himself for so long, believing them and owning them, that he understood the expression on her face. Maybe it was because somehow they were kindred souls.
Regardless, it compelled his feet to move, and before he could consider his actions, he found her at the edge of the ballroom, arms wrapped round her body as if protecting it.
“Come.” He spoke softly, and didn’t wait for a reply. Without a backward glance, he walked along the edge of the room, then paused in an alcove.
She wasn’t far behind, and when she stepped into the alcove with him, he strategically situated them so that those looking into the alcove would see him, not her.
Propriety would be met, but she would be shielded. It was the least he could do.
“Don’t.” It was a single word, but it carried a wealth of meaning.
Miss Grace blinked, tipping her head just a fraction of an inch. “Pardon?”
He shook his head slightly. “Don’t. I know what you are thinking, and it’s wrong.”
A bit of the spark he’d seen earlier flared to life in her eyes, and it pleased him. “I wasn’t aware you were a mind reader.”
“I’m not, but I am quite intuitive on certain things, and this is one of them. You’re thinking you don’t belong, that you knew you’d do something stupid like this, and that you are disappointing Heath—Viscount and Lady Kilpatrick.” He finished, lifting his chin, daring her to contradict him.
Her defiant gaze flickered to the ground and he noted the way her jaw clenched. There was a slight sigh before she raised her gaze to his. “Am I wrong to think those things?”
