Page 5

Ten minutes later in the ladies’ retiring room

Cheeks rosy with anger and humiliation, Corinna stabbed a pin into the haphazard knot she’d twisted her hair into. A frown drew her eyebrows together as she examined her work.

Awful.

A child could do better.

Bah.

She was hopeless at this sort of thing. Betsy normally arranged her hair, and Corinna tied the mass back with a ribbon when the maid couldn’t. However, that uncomplicated style would not suffice for Lady Pandora Osborne’s ball.

Nor did Corinna wish to explain why the lovely chignon interweaved with a beaded blue ribbon half an hour ago was now a sloppy, lopsided mess. Wresting free of and punching a drunkard had that unfortunate effect on one’s coiffure.

God only knew where the ribbon had landed when she’d clocked Parnell-Calloway. How many people had seen her tumbled-down hair as she all but sprinted upstairs?

She could always fib and say the pins came loose, but she despised lying.

Corinna knew her shortcomings well, and there were many, but she was not a liar.

Unlike the pair who had set her up for ruination.

A fresh surge of outrage thrummed through Corinna. Fisting her hands, she shook her head. Several newly pinned locks flopped loose.

“Ooohhh.”

An unladylike, animalistic growl escaped her clenched teeth.

How could she have been so gullible?

So naive? Stupid? Such a pudding head?

She had no one to blame but herself for trusting Adelphia Haywood and Doretta Marchette. When they told her Mercy had taken ill in the library and had asked for Corinna, she’d gone to her new sister-in-law straightaway. If Corinna didn’t suspect Mercy was with child, she’d never have walked into the trap the pair of spiteful snits had set.

That libertine Timothy Parnell-Calloway had been waiting and tried to steal a kiss. For over a month, Corinna had avoided him and his unwanted attentions. He was worse than a love-struck pup. She had never encouraged him, but the man would not be dissuaded.

Adelphia had lied through her crooked teeth and assured Parnell-Calloway that Corinna would welcome his advances. Corinna had shown him otherwise—succinctly and inarguably.

Grinning, she flexed her hand. Other than a slight bruising of her middle finger knuckle, she’d come through the fray unharmed—except for an inopportune encounter with Lady Osborne and that gentleman with the scarred face.

Even in her haste, she’d noticed the puckered flesh lashing his left cheek. It gave him a debonair but also warrior-like appearance.

Unfortunately, he and her ladyship had seen Corinna’s state of disarray. The worry was, would either blather about it? Not that Corinna gave two farthings about herself and what others thought of her. It was Mercy she fretted for. A former governess, Mercy had endured snubs and cuts for daring to marry into the peerage.

Corinna, for one, was very glad she had.

A flash of deep-set amber-brown eyes set beneath striking eyebrows intruded upon her reflections. There’d been pain and defeat in the depths of the scarred man’s eyes—humor and gentleness too. And if she wasn’t mistaken, concern for her had radiated from the depths of his guarded gaze.

Who was he, that man she’d plowed into?

She’d met Lady Osborne on numerous occasions, and Corinna knew she didn’t measure up to the infamous peeress’s standards of propriety. Come to think of it, a good many of this house party’s guests did not.

Most peculiar, that.

What Corinna wouldn’t have given to see Lady Osborne’s and the gentleman’s expressions when Parnell-Calloway exited the library with a bloody nose.

The retiring room door swung open, and Mercy slipped inside.

“There you are. I became worried when I couldn’t find you.” Perplexion swiftly followed by concern flitted across her pretty face. “Corinna. Your hair…”