Giving a shallow curtsy and muttering something about needing to freshen up, she fled through the throng, searching for an exit.
There, a door.
And beyond, several larger rooms were all inhabited by guests. She pushed through, searching for somewhere quiet she could sit and think and wash away the disgust from the past few minutes.
It took her some time, but eventually she found the library. To her relief, it was entirely empty. Seeking to distract her mind, she reached for the nearest book and crawled onto the window seat. The candlelight was barely strong enough for her to read, but the additional strain was another source of distraction.
She barely noticed the door open.
She did, however, notice when a figure loomed over her. In fright, she jumped. The book fell to the ground, and Thalia threw up her hands to defend herself.
“Lady Thalia?” The Duke—of course it was the Duke, he always had to find her at her worst—stepped back, as though to reassure her he would not harm her. “What’s wrong?”
“Why must you assume something is always wrong?”
He bent and picked up the book, handing it back to her. “Forgive my presumption, but you do not strike me as the sort of lady who would prefer to sit in a library rather than take pride of place in a ballroom.”
“Then you are mistaken,” she said as primly as she could. “Now, please leave me be. I don’t think either of us could survive another scandal with each other.”
His brows descended low over his eyes. “No one knows I’m here. There is no scandal.”
Her skin prickled. She wanted him gone, and more importantly, she wanted to be alone, so she didn’t have to feel so disgusted.
“Fine,” she said, hopping to her feet. “ThenIwill leave.”
As she passed, his hand closed around her wrist. “Wait a moment.”
Fear flashed through her, and she wrenched her wrist free. “Don’t touch me! I won’t allow another man to lay a hand on me tonight.”
Although she knew it was impossible, she fancied the entire room darkened as he stared at her. A dangerous light flickered in his eyes.
“Who touched you inappropriately?” He let out in a low, deep growl.
She gulped. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You said someone laid a hand on you.” His nostrils flared. “Give me his name.”
“It’s nothing.”
“The name, Lady Thalia,” he murmured. When she didn’t immediately answer, a muscle in his jaw worked. “Was it Calloway?”
“No!” she said, without thinking.
Of course, it wasn’t Elliot—he wouldneverdo such a thing.
“Then Lord Vauron?”
She hesitated only a second, but that was all the confirmation he needed. He rocked back on his heels, looking positively murderous, and marched out of the library.
“Your Grace!” Thalia ran after him, not sure what she would do but certain she should stop him from ending Vauron’s life in the middle of a ballroom; she’d already seen him fight, and she knew he would win.
There wouldn’t even be a competition.
Will he fight Lord Vauron here? Now?
Her head spun; she didn’t know.
The Duke flung open the doors of the ballroom and strode inside. Thalia followed on his heels, panicked and unsure. He found Lord Vauron right away and took the man’s arm.
