Page 39 of Sinfully Daring

Rosamund got up, needing to stretch her legs. Lady Balderston was a wonderful companion, but she had found some old cronies she’d not seen in decades and the three women were talking over each other in their haste to catch up on all that had happened in the intervening years. Not having a clue about the people they were speaking of, Rosamund moved to the opening of the marquee and looked out, enjoying the simple pleasure of watching people doing what people did when dressed up in their best and out to enjoy themselves.

The crowd parted as a couple moved along with their family in tow, and a familiar tall, athletic figure became visible through the gap. Lord Hargreaves, his wife upon his arm, was speaking to a group of people she did not recognise. Suddenly, he turned his head towards her, as if her gaze had a physical property he could feel. There was a swift flare of warmth and recognition in his eyes before his expression become carefully neutral and he turned back to the conversation. Rosamund’s heart felt as if it were being squeezed in her chest as she saw the tight set of his shoulders. She too went to turn away, resigning herself to the inevitable, but something about his rigid stance must have struck Lady Hargreaves, for she looked past her husband, directly at Rosamund. The look she sent was one of pure malice, so shocking that Rosamund gasped.

Shaken, she turned away and went back to Lady Balderston.

“Are you well, Rosamund, dear?” the lady asked, pausing her conversation to regard her with concern. “You’re white as a sheet.”

“Oh, yes. Quite well,” Rosamund assured her, though she did not feel the least bit well. “A little too warm, I think.”

Lady Balderston passed her a beautiful painted fan with a sympathetic smile. “Take that, and drink another glass of lemonade,” she advised.

Rosamund nodded, letting the ladies' chatter wash over her as she allowed the tension to leave her. She was being silly, getting herself all het up over something as silly as a glare from Lady Hargreaves. It was just the heat making her dramatic, that and the fact she had not slept well the past few nights, though she could not say why. Only that she was troubled and found it hard to settle herself to sleep with ease.

Over the next hour Rosamund drank two large glasses of lemonade as the ladies talked and laughed incessantly, with the inevitable outcome.

“I must find the necessary,” she whispered to Lady Balderston, who nodded her understanding and returned to her conversation.

As Rosamund was staying at Dern Palace for the week with her family, she returned to the vast house, relieved to have a little peace. Though she hated to admit it when it was such a splendid affair, she was out of sorts and not in the mood to socialise. So, once she had seen to her personal needs, she remained indoors to make use of the magnificent library. Matilda always had a wonderful selection of novels, being an avid reader, so Rosamund was bound to find something to divert her.

On her way to the library, she ran into her brother, Jules, with some of his friends. Rosamund was surprised to discover Mr Humphrey Price among the group, for Jules had little time for the man. But then Jules, being the heir to a dukedom, often had to endure the company of sycophants and toadies with as much good grace as he could muster. Usually this wasn’t a great deal, but he would not cause a stir at an event such as this, so Rosamund imagined he was gritting his teeth and bearing it as best he could.

“Ozzie? Where are you off to?” he asked, his brows drawing together. He lowered his voice to speak to her privately. “You ought not be wandering about alone.”

Rosamund sighed, irritated. As if she didn’t know that. “I thought the house was off limits to guests,” she retorted, giving him and his friends a significant look.

Jules shrugged. “I had permission to show them the library. It’s quite a marvel.”

“Yes, well, that’s where I’m going. I have a headache so I shall choose a book and go to my room where my maid will barricade me in and guard the door.”

Jules glared at her, affronted. “Well, don’t bite my head off for being a concerned brother!”

Rosamund groaned, immediately contrite. “I beg your pardon, Jules. I didn’t mean it. I’m feeling rather out of sorts.”

“Shall I stay?” he asked, concern in his eyes.

For once, Rosamund felt a swell of fondness for her big brother, whom she could often have cheerfully murdered. “No. I don’t want to spoil your fun. I’ll grab the first title that comes to hand and go upstairs, I promise.”

“As you wish, but mind that you do,” he said sternly.

Rosamund bit back the comment hovering on her tongue as her irritation rose again at his domineering tone. He’s training to be a duke, she reminded herself, flashed him a sweet smile and hurried away before they started bickering again.

Sebastian sighed and wondered how much longer Adelia would want to stay. They’d taken rooms at a local inn for the weekend, and he wanted to return there and bury himself in a good bottle of claret. He’d not dared drink anything stronger than lemonade during the day, too on edge that Adelia might cause a scene if he didn’t keep an eye on her.

She had complained bitterly, annoyed by his ‘breathing down her neck.’ But she had wanted him to stay, he reminded her placidly. So, he was staying. She couldn’t have it both ways.

For the moment he was alone, however, a blessing he was relishing for as long as Adelia made use of the ladies' retiring room. He drew the line at following her into the necessary and only prayed she could not cause too much trouble in the distance between there and where he stood waiting for her. He kept his eyes on the path she must take to return to the party, determined she would not evade him.

Raucous laughter reached his ears and Sebastian frowned, scowling down at the drunken fools guffawing beneath the terrace where he waited.

“Hell, Kilbane of all men,” one of them crowed. “And her a little innocent.”

“Not for long,” a man Sebastian identified as Humphrey Price sneered. “That devil will have her skirts over her head and her legs spread before she knows what’s hit her. He’s probably got her bent over a table as we speak. It’s not like he’s shy about taking his pleasure where he fancies.”

Sebastian felt a chill of terror for whichever poor girl had got herself into the marquess’ clutches. Cursing, but unable to ignore the girl’s plight, he hurried down the stairs and grabbed Mr Price by the throat, slamming him against the wall.

“You knew the girl was alone with Kilbane and you did nothing?” he demanded with disgust, giving him a hard shake. “What kind of man are you?”

“The kind who knows better than to get between Kilbane and his quarry, that’s what,” Price smirked. “Silly little tart shouldn’t have gone off on her own, should she? Asking for it, I should say,” he added, making Sebastian want to break his damned nose for him, but if the girl was to be helped, there was no time.