“Why do I get the feeling you’re being contrary on purpose?”
“Because you possess a skeptical nature?”
“That’s not the reason.”
She pressed her now-curving lips into a straight line. “I’m sure itisthe reason because I’ll have you know that while I do have the ability to turn contrary upon occasion, it’s not a trait my mother approves of, which is why I strive to suppress it if at all possible.”
“You don’t seem to be having much luck doing that right now.”
“I’m sure that’s on account of my weak knees, which are turning weaker by the second.”
Gideon ran a hand through his hair, blew out a resigned-sounding breath, then took hold of her arm. Instead of drawing her over to the fainting couch, though, he began steering her toward a small slipper chair that was situated on the opposite side of the room. “I believe this chair will be far more comfortable for you. It’s located directly beside a shaded lamp, which should help soothe those nerves of yours.”
She wrinkled her nose. “You must not have noticed the size of the bustle I’m wearing because I don’t think it’ll fit in that chair. I was forced to perch on the very edge of the fainting couch earlier, and that’s far larger than the chair you’ve now chosen for me.”
“Perching doesn’t sound comfortable, even though you claimed the fainting couch was lovely to lounge upon. Besides that, perching won’t do for weak knees because you’ll be required to put pressure on them to retain your balance. That’s why you’re now going to let me hie you off to the billiard room, where no perching will be required.”
Unwilling to allow what was obviously a very determined gentleman to get his way, Adelaide didn’t hesitate to plop into the chair he’d suggested, earning a furrowing of the brow from Gideon in the process. Before she could do more than smile overthe fact she was still in the library, her bustle gave an odd sort of groan, which turned into an even odder pinging noise, and then, a mere second later, she found herself hurtling through the air.
Before she knew it, she was sprawled on the floor—on her stomach, no less—her plummet to the ground leaving her winded. Or perhaps her breathlessness was a direct result of something sharp, undoubtedly a piece of a coiled spring that had obviously sprung, jabbing her underneath her rib cage.
“Are you alright?” Gideon asked.
She turned her head and found him kneeling beside her, his green eyes unusually wide.
“I would love to say I’m fine,” she muttered, “but I’m beginning to wonder if suffering numerous mortifying incidents in any given evening can be detrimental to one’s well-being.”
“A valid concern for certain, but any thoughts regarding how you ended up on the floor?”
“I believe Mr. Hayworth is to blame.”
“Who?”
“My mother’s dress designer. He’s been experimenting with bustles of late, and I’m an unwitting subject of his latest experiment. I believe the coiled springs he installed on my bustle were not meant to withstand a plopping and thus staged a rebellion.”
The corners of Gideon’s lips quirked. “You’ve just suffered a bustle uprising?”
“Indeed, one that’s left me suffering from a sharp piece of metal that seems to be stabbing me.”
His amusement disappeared in a flash. “Allow me to get you unstabbed.”
“You can’t help me resolve my current situation considering the culprit is my bustle. The rules of etiquette would consider any bustle assistance to be untoward on both our parts.”
“Given that you’re currently sprawled on the floor with the skirt of your gown askew, giving me a glimpse of what I can only say are rather unusual unmentionables—not that I’ve giventhem more than a cursory look, and only because, well, it was an unavoidable sight—I believe we can agree there’ll be nothing untoward with me helping you set yourself to rights.”
Adelaide couldn’t quite suppress a groan. “I’ve exposed my unmentionables again?”
“I’m afraid so, but I’m now getting a clearer picture of what was involved with that wardrobe sputter you mentioned.”
Before Adelaide could think of a response to that, Gideon swept her upright and went to work rearranging a bustle that had shifted once again.
The thought sprang to mind that there was something to be said about a competent gentleman, one who at times seemed to be quite like the heroes in her favorite dime novels.
“There. Better?” Gideon asked, tugging her skirt into place a minute later and pulling her out of thoughts that were rather ridiculous, given her current situation and because the gentleman in question was hardly a man she should allow herself to dwell on in a fanciful fashion in the first place.
“Much,” she managed to utter. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, and with you now reassembled and unstabbed, allow me to escort you to the billiard room, where plopping won’t be required, which should alleviate the danger of you suffering an attack from your bustle again.”
