The viscount immediately curved an arm behind her in a protective position but didn’t actually touch her. Somehow, he managed to clear a swath through the crowd in front of them as he guided her out of the refreshment room. It amazed her how easily he traversed through the constantly shifting crowd, his stride long and confident despite having the burden of her stiff, graceless form beside him. Once in the less crowded ballroom, he allowed more space between them as he continued toward a corner where an arbor of ferns nestled between two great windows. Though a steady rain fell outside, the windows were open to allow access to the cooling night air.
“Better,” he murmured as he leaned a shoulder against the window frame. His sigh was warm and deep.
Eleanor wasn’t so certain.
She was free of the crowd, but the viscount’s effect on her was still a crucial concern. The whole way there, she had to fight against the increased stirring in her body and the oddest desire to tuck herself against his solid form. She could just imagine the stares and murmured commentsthatwould have invoked.
As panic threatened again, she took a quick step back, nearly pushing herself right into the ferns. Drawing several deep breaths, she kept her gaze on the floor as she brought her internal rioting back under control.
She hated knowing Lord Waring was standing there watching her struggle to regain herself, but she had no choice. Soon enough, he would grow uncomfortable by her strange reaction—as so many gentlemen had in the past—and he’d make his excuses to leave her in blessed solitude.
“English air is wonderfully bracing,” the viscount observed, his tone light and conversational—a direct contrast to the weighted sensations swirling through her body. “Quite unlike the sultry nights to which I’ve recently grown accustomed.”
His words distracted Eleanor enough that she turned her face into the breeze wafting past her. He was right. The air was nicely invigorating and she wondered where he’d been that the nights weresultry. Had he truly been to Marrakesh as he’d mentioned earlier?
She turned her head a bit, hoping to catch a quick glance of the man from the corner of her eye. Instead, her attention fell on another young gentleman, slim of build with brown hair and angular features, standing a short distance behind the viscount.
Lord Ackerly gazed back at her. His typically quiet, unassuming demeanor appearing unusually tense.
Out of all the gentlemen she’d met in her last season, Lord Ackerlywas the closest to one she might have called a friend. Being almost as uncomfortable with crowds as she was, Ackerly had occasionally found his way to her side as they commiserated over the stress of socializing. He’d never looked at her with the condescension or disappointment that so many other men had. But she’d also never gotten the sense that he was interested in her in any way beyond having an occasional wallflower companion.
It was clear by his focused gaze that he was tempted to approach her now, but for the large, hulking presence of Viscount Waring shifting to block his path.
*
Phin angled himselfin such a way that his body might mostly bar the view of anyone curious enough to look their way. Though he had no idea what had triggered the deep look of alarm in Lady Eleanor’s eyes, he knew true panic when he saw it.
Thinking on it, he had to wonder if the flicker he saw when their gazes first met might have been the initial spark of her current distress. The idea that he may have caused her discomfort troubled him. He found himself at a loss, fearful of making the situation worse.
As he waited for the lady to expertly gather her composure, he noted how she refused to look at him—or the rest of the room. Her breaths were drawn deep into her lungs before she expelled them slowly. And she kept her body still as she seemed to claim a sense of grounding.
She’d done this before. Many times, he’d wager.
After a few moments, her posture appeared less painfully rigid and the trembling in her hands had subsided. She took a final deep breath and released it on a lengthy sigh. Only then did she lift her focus to his face.
Phin offered a quick and easy smile.
But what was meant to ease her distress only seemed to exacerbate it as her eyes flickered once again and her gaze swiftly left his to dart to the windows before sliding out over the ballroom beyond their private fern corner. Tension tugged at her brow and pressed her lips into a line. Her spine stiffened again and her chin lifted when she brought her gaze back to his.
“Thank you for your escort, Lord Waring. You may go.”
The chill in her voice did not leave much room for dissent.
But Phineas’s conscience wouldn’t allow him to leave her alone until he knew she was fully past whatever had caused her torment. Instead, he smiled wider, which in turn deepened her scowl.
Tilting his head, he said, “Apologies, my lady, if I’ve somehow offended you, but I cannot abandon you just yet.”
Her eyes widened fractionally before she looked pointedly away from him. “You have not offended me, my lord. I simply have no need for further escort.”
“Is that a polite way of saying you find my company distasteful?” he teased.
Her eyes flew back to his, a different kind of alarm sparking in their depths.
“I didnot—I didn’t—” she stammered from a tense jaw, clearly caught off guard by his blunt question, before stating, “I don’t know you well enough to find you distasteful.”
Phin grinned and gave a nod. “Excellent point. Shall we remedy that so we can discover if you have proper cause to send me on my way?”
The lady eyed him strangely. With her focus on him, she no longer seemed concerned with the rest of the room and whatever had triggered her distress. Instead, she appeared as though she might be getting annoyed with him.
