“That wouldn’t be appropriate.” She pulled up the neckline of her gown although Lord Wharton wasn’t staring at her cleavage. “How did you acquire a title, my lord?”
He glanced at the door again. Hopefully, he’d drop the subject of Mr. North’s offer. “I received the title after the Theatre Royal fire. Saving the queen’s grandson was enough to make me a baron.”
“I didn’t hear about it.” Because a furious Russian grand duke had chased her mother and her out of London.
“It was in the newspapers. There was a ceremony. I wanted the fuss to be over and done. Not a lot of bruhaha. Somehow, it didn’t seem right towards those people who had died in the fire. They lost their lives, and I acquired a title.”
“You saved many people that night. Your courage and selflessness deserved to be acknowledged by the queen.” She smoothed down her bodice. The chase had caused her muslin sleeves to wrinkle as well. She straightened her skirt too, searching for other excuses not to glance up at him. “Thank you for your help, my lord. We have many things to talk about after two years.” Not necessarily tonight’s events.
“Did Mr. North hurt you?” A growl reverberated in his voice.
She had no intention of telling him about Mama’s scheme, their financial insecurity, the blackmailing, or about Mr. North groping her and his three thousand pounds.
“The man is confused.” That, at least, was true.
“My guess is that he attacked you.” The gravity in his voice promised a long conversation to come. “You threw a vase at him and escaped from him. You wouldn’t have done something like that if he hadn’t done something horrible to you.”
“Well, yes. He tried to attack me, and I used the contents of the vase to cool down his hot temper.” She chuckled nervously, hoping to lighten the heavy atmosphere between them.
A corner of his mouth quirked up. “Clever move. I’ll have a word with him if you want, make him understand to stay away from you.”
“It’s all right. Do not fret, my lord.” She fiddled with her hands. “Instead, pray tell me about your new life. I’m eager to hear everything.”
“So am I about yours. The last time we saw each other, I wasn’t kind to you. I regret having raised my voice.”
“I asked you to dance, and you got rather upset.” She couldn’t completely remove a hint of hurt from her voice because, to this day, she didn’t understand his mood change.
“I apologise, Miss Haywood.” He bowed.
“Angeline, please.”
“Only if you call me Royston.”
“Very well, Royston. So, I’m still curious to hear everything about the past two years.”
He offered her his arm. “As much as I’d love to chat with you, I believe you should return to the ballroom and to your mother lest someone come here and make assumptions. Let me escort you.”
“Thank you.” She took his arm, aware she hadn’t fooled him. Her attempts to distract him from Mr. North hadn’t worked. “You play the piano well.”
He checked the corridor before stepping out of the room. “Thank you. Do you play?”
She let out a snigger that sounded disturbingly similar to Mr. North’s coarse laugh. He had to be contagious. “We have a piano at home, just because Mama thinks it’s fancy, but the only keys I touch are those of my house.”
He flashed a lovely boyish smile.
The sounds of footsteps came from the other side of the corridor, and he dragged her behind the heavy brocade curtains covering a bay window.
She nearly tripped on her feet. “What?—”
He pressed a finger against his lips.
From the sound of the footfalls, two people were walking toward them. A couple of servants perhaps, although this hallway wasn’t in the servants’ quarter.
“Miss Haywood is pretty,” one man said.
“She is, but have you seen the scar on her arm? I did. It’s disgusting. I meant to court her, but after I saw that horrible thing, I changed my mind. I cannot imagine having to see that deformed arm every day. ”
Oh, she guessed the second man was Mr. Barnes, a man she’d met during a bow practice session in Hyde Park. Her arm had been uncovered then. He’d voiced his opinion on the scar, so his words shouldn’t still hurt, but they did.
