With a moan, Kensington dropped to the ground and curled himself into a ball.
What this situation required, Justin assessed, was finesse.
To prevent Miss Mossant from becoming the subject of yet more gossip, he needed to lead her away from watchful eyes, to someplace where she might repair herself. An alluring array of chestnut curls had escaped her coiffure, tumbling down her back. More troublesome, her dress appeared disheveled and had torn in one place. A trickle of blood dripped from her swollen lips.
His gut clenched at the sight.
Justin stepped around Kensington to where Miss Mossant stood frozen. She nearly collapsed before he took hold of her arm. As unobtrusively as possible, he tugged her bodice back into place and then dabbed his handkerchief at her lips. Although his hands were steady, his heart raced.
“Remind me never to anger you, Miss Mossant.”
She didn’t laugh, blink, or respond in any way to his attempt to break through her lifeless trance.
Others strolled nearby, at a distance of fewer than twenty yards.
Maneuvering her so that she would be indistinguishable in his shadow, he tucked her hand through his arm and led them along the veranda away from the ballroom entrance. They had no choice but to pass a few other guests.
“Is everything all right there?” a tall, elderly gentleman turned away from his companion to inquire.
“Positively delightful evening for a stroll.” Justin nodded toward the couple standing near one of the large potted plants. He blocked them from getting a good look at Miss Mossant. “My Lady, My Lord,”
Tall glass-paned doors beckoned at the far end of the terrace, and from what Justin could remember, they led into one of the Crabtrees’ drawing rooms. With any luck, the doors would be unlocked and the room empty.
He steered the passive young lady in that direction and released the breath he was holding when the door swung open. Miss Mossant stepped inside but then stood unmoving while Justin lit a few of the candles.
“An unusually dark night.” Best to burn only a few. He didn’t plan on remaining here long. Just enough time for Miss Mossant to gather her calm so that he could escort her to a ladies’ retiring room.
Her stillness gave him pause. Caramel eyes stared straight ahead, unblinking. She wasn’t trembling or shaking, but she seemed frozen from the inside.
Justin could have gazed upon her silhouette all night long. If he were that sort of fellow, that was. He turned away from her and examined a painting placed at eye level. She needed a moment. He’d give her a level of privacy to compose herself.
The urge to comfort her, to hold her tightly against him, was strong. But with a woman such as she, his initial desire would hastily be replaced by another, less platonic one.
He was a man of the church, but a man, nonetheless.
But that would make him no better than Kensington.
Finally, the rustling of her skirts signaled that she’d cast off whatever spell she’d been under and had crossed farther into the room. Perhaps she was ready to face him now.
When he turned and caught sight of her expression, he tried to interpret her thoughts. Finely arched brows lowered in concentration, and she seemed baffled. Confused. “I–I thank you for your most timely arrival, Mr. White. I cannot imagine… If you hadn’t come along…” Her hands fluttered.
A shiver ran through her, and he glanced around for a quilt. “Are you cold?”
She shook her head.
And then her soulful eyes widened to stare at him. “I must find my mother! She’ll be worried if she doesn’t see me at supper.” The mysterious beauty went to take a step but caught herself on the back of a chair when her knees nearly buckled. “I…”
When he moved to assist her again, she stayed him with one hand, grimaced, and then seemed to shake off her confusion. Moving slower this time, she lifted her skirt as though she’d carefully pick her way to the exit.
Justin seized her by the arm. “First, the retiring room, I think.” If she were to reenter the ballroom in her present condition, her ruination would be complete. He held her gaze steadily, making certain she understood his meaning.
Comprehension dawned, and she nodded slowly. “Yes. Yes, of course.” At least the corridor wasn’t well lit. “Thank you, Mr. White.” Shaking him off, she turned again to leave.
“Miss Mossant?” He stopped her with his voice this time. “You would do well to avoid such circumstances in the future. Not all men are so easily thwarted.” She really was too beautiful, toosensual,for her own good.
Her jaw tightened but she did not meet his gaze again. She nodded. “I am ever so grateful for your kind advice.”
And then she was gone.
