She shot up to her feet and strode towards the door.
Her hand was over the knob when he roared.
She pulled the door, but it didn’t budge. He must have locked it after they’d entered the room. She fumbled with the key until the door opened, but he marched towards her, leaving a trail of drops.
“You aren’t going to leave this room.” His upper lip curled up in a snarl.
“Try me.”
She rushed out of the room, trying to remember where the ballroom was. The big house was a maze of identical corridors, shiny floors, and hidden stairs, and when she’d allowed Mr. North to the parlour, she’d been too angry to pay attention.
“Angeline.” His voice boomed from behind her. For a tall man with long legs, he wasn’t fast. Not that she complained about that.
No sound of voices reached her. The ballroom had to be on the other side of the corridor. But any room with a solid door would do for now.
The doors she tried were all locked, and the stairs leading downstairs didn’t look familiar at all. Piano music drifted from a room at the end of the corridor, and she made a dash for it for no reason other than where there was piano music, there was a pianist. Hopefully, a sympathetic pianist.
“When I catch you, I’m going to rip that pretty blue dress off you,” he said.
Well, that was a further incentive for her not to be caught. She barged into the pianist’s room, glad the door wasn’t locked. Breathless, she stopped in the middle of a cosy sitting room where a man was playing a beautiful piece, bathed in the golden light from the chandelier. The peaceful sight and the lovely music were a stark contrast to the scene she’d escaped from.
The pianist gazed up from the keys and frowned at her. His intense hazel eyes widened in recognition, likely as hers did.
Goodness. It was Mr. Royston Alexander. For a moment, surprise made her forget about the angry scoundrel chasing her.
“Mr. Alexander,” she said.
“Miss Haywood.” He paused playing and stood up.
Mr. North strode into the room, fists clenched and utterly wet. “I win, Angeline. You’re going to regret your abominable behaviour.”
Mr. Alexander moved so fast Angeline saw only a dark blur swishing past her. He stepped between Mr. North and her, blocking her view of her chaser with his broad shoulders.
“What is the meaning of this?” he asked in a commanding tone.
Angeline craned her neck to see past him.
Mr. North lost his cocksure expression. The wet hair didn’t help give him a menacing effect. “Angeline?—”
“It’s Miss Haywood,” she said.
“—threw a vase full of water over me.” Mr. North gestured at his soaked silk waistcoat and dripping hair.
“Miss Haywood must have had a very good reason for doing that.” Mr. Alexander mirrored Mr. North’s moves as he tried to get past him and reach her.
A surge of gratitude warmed her. He knew her better than she’d thought.
“I did nothing she wasn’t prepared for,” Mr. North said. “Now, I don’t know who you are or how you know Angeline, but I must ask you to remove yourself from this room and leave me alone with her.”
“I won’t do such a thing.” Mr. Alexander folded his arms over his chest. “Unless Miss Haywood asks me to.”
“Not likely,” she said.
Mr. North scoffed. “Who the hell are you?”
Mr. Alexander straightened. “I’m Lord Royston Alexander, Baron Wharton.”
What?Angeline stepped around him to stare at his face. Not a single facial muscle twitched. If it was a bluff, he was doing a great job hiding it because he sounded extremely serious.
