“You will come with us,” Lord Burnley commanded in a tone that would brook no dispute. “And be quick about it.”
She sighed but turned and followed them. As she climbed the steps, the men parted to let her by, and Adelia spared a sympathetic glance for Lord Farrier. When Lord Whitely opened one of the doors, she preceded them inside.
As if each guest had been awaiting their return, which, of course, was the case, every head turned, each eye watched them reappear in the ballroom. It seemed as if even the music faded slightly, and the dancers hesitated in their steps.
“Where is your chaperone?” Lord Burnley asked her.
But Adelia couldn’t speak. She couldn’t draw breath with so many people looking in her direction. She blinked at him, feeling her cheeks heat up with mortification.
“I asked you a question, Lady…Adelia, is it?” he asked gruffly. “What game are you playing?”
She wished she could get to the wall and lean against it.
“I…,” she tried, but she still couldn’t seem to get enough air into her lungs. “I…,” she whispered as spots appeared in front of her eyes, and a buzzing filled her ears. She had to sit down. Too late, the ballroom dissolved into dizzying darkness.
*
Owen barely reachedher in time but managed to catch Lady Adelia’s lithe form as she sagged, just before she collapsed onto the parquet. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Farrier slip away.The devil!
If the man thought Owen would not pursue him to the ends of the earth to look at his damned handkerchief, he was going to find himself sorely mistaken. At present, however, he literally had his hands full.
Lifting her in his arms, he took a few steps forward, looking around the room. Everyone was murmuring and whispering. He sighed.Did she have family there? Perhaps a negligent mother seated at one of the tables?
“Whitely,” he ground out. “To whom does this lady belong?”
“She’s the Earl of Dunford’s daughter.”
Owen frowned. “He’s dead, isn’t he?”
“Yes, about a year ago. I played croquet with her recently, the day I rounded out Lady Turbity’s foursome in your stead.” George paused, then added, “Truthfully, she wasn’t much more entertaining that day than now. And she spoke almost as little.”
Owen took another few steps, heading toward the refreshment alcove. Maybe he could toss some chilled lemonade on her face and revive her.
Looking down at his burden, he noted she was a pale, pretty thing, with light brown hair and eyelashes a shade darker, as were her eyebrows. He adjusted her in his arms, and she turned slightly, her cheek resting against his chest. He’d seen her at many events and was positive he’d danced with her once or twice. For the life of him, though, he was unable to recall ever speaking with her.
Of all the women he’d flirted with over the years or suddenly grown an attachment that ended a week later, why had he never had a dalliance with this one? She was certainly attractive enough, with curves to spare from what he could tell. Even then, he could peer down her décolletage and see a shapely bosom.
If he was so inclined.
Naturally, he wasn’t.
“What the devil do I do with her?” he grumbled.
The beverages were not yet set out, so they crossed the width of the room, and he was about to walk the length of it with her, when she stirred.
“Mm,” she murmured.
“Move,” he ordered a young gentleman and lady seated on the only nearby chairs. At his tone, they jumped up.
Thereupon, he heard a man’s voice nearby call out, “Dilly!”
Owen eased her onto the chair as her eyelids fluttered open. For a split second, she looked into his eyes, and he felt her green glance like a candle flame sending a sizzle right through him.What the hell!
He took a hurried step back as she gazed wildly around.
“Thomas,” she said, too quietly for anyone but Owen to hear.
Thomas?Then it dawned on him–Lord Thomas Smythe, the current Earl of Dunford, and head of the rival, coal-mining family. He knew little of the young man and had hardly ever spoken to him. When they’d encountered one another occasionally at their pugilist’s club, they focused on punching each other with hardly any conversation passing between them, as was usual.
