Page 60 of Seducing a Frigid Lady
Even more so than ever, Mr. Kenyon and Miss Kendall looked smug. Turning on her heels, away from them and from Lord Sinclair, Priscilla began to storm towards the refreshments table, relieved that her ice-queen character still had people dashing to get out of the way of her. The last thing she needed right now was for people to begin treating her differently.
Grabbing a glass of wine from the refreshments table, she took a larger swig than was polite for a woman and closed her eyes, enjoying the burning sensation of the alcohol slipping down her throat that helped her to start breathing more deeply again.
All of the humming of talk around her was almost as annoying as listening to Lord Sinclair had been but she knew that, at least for now, she was going to have to put up with it lest she risk them talking about her for the rest of the night.
Chapter 22
Almost the moment that the attention appeared to be off her, Priscilla made her move. Unable to stand another moment in that stuffy ballroom, she placed her empty glass on a passing servant’s tray and quickly bolted for the doors leading to the gardens beyond.
Already the night air was calling to her and she knew she would be in much greater company with the stars than with all of the people currently around her, who would just as sooner see her fall on her face as they would actually try to hold a decent conversation with her.
As soon as she stepped out onto the patio, she started to feel a little better. It was as though she could finally breathe for the first time all evening. The cool breeze that caressed her feverish cheeks was most welcome, and she turned her face up towards it even as she wandered down the patio steps and deeper into the gardens.
The further she wandered, the more at ease she felt. Away from the lantern lights of the house, she could enjoy the glow of the moonlight that filtered down onto her from a clear evening sky.
Though it was far chillier than it had been in the ballroom, she welcomed it, choosing to sit upon a marble bench in a secluded area of the gardens where rose bushes grew up tall, hiding her from the view of the house for a little while.
Knowing she could not be gone long without Sophie or her father or maybe even Mrs. Lyttleton coming to look for her, she decided it was best to enjoy the peace while she was able to. Breathing a sigh of relief, she closed her eyes and tilted her head back, listening to the wonderful sounds of the night. In the distance a fox barked and an owl hooted while bugs buzzed in the bushes all around her, making her feel far less alone than she had felt in the ballroom all evening, surrounded by people she had absolutely nothing in common with.
Even Sophie’s company had become uncomfortable thanks to her friend’s obvious concern for her. She would have much preferred it if her friend could just pretend that nothing untoward had happened, if she could hide her true feelings as Priscilla had long ago learned to do.
Soon Priscilla felt as though she had been listening for far too long and all of the sounds seemed to meld into one until she could not tell one sound from the next. That was, until she heard the sound of footsteps on the shingle path.
Immediately, she sat bolt upright, wondering whether she might be interrupting some scandalous couple’s midnight tryst in the gardens. Holding her breath, she focused in on the footsteps and quickly came to realise that she could hear nothing else, no hushed laughter or even talking.
Whoever was approaching, she was quite certain that they were alone. And as soon as she realised that, her hackles started to rise. Being alone in the gardens no longer appealed to her as it had earlier in the evening, and she quickly jumped to her feet.
“Who is there?” she demanded, her hands tightening into fists at her sides. Even though she was supposed to be as lady-like as she was able, that would not stop her from defending herself if there was someone out in the hedges up to no good.
The instant that Lord Sinclair slipped from the hedges, she felt no easier. In fact, a part of her wondered whether she ought to strike him for the sake of it. In the moonlight, she was well within her rights to claim she had not realised it was him.
Just barely, she managed to stop herself, though she reserved the right to strike him if he drew too close.
“Keep your distance, Lord Sinclair,” she warned him firmly, crossing her arms defensively over her chest. “It is most inappropriate for you to be here.”
“Only as inappropriate as it is for you to be out here all alone, Miss Lloyd,” Lord Sinclair told her, raising an eyebrow at her, almost as if he was trying to initiate some kind of challenge.
“Please, my lord, return from whence you came,” Priscilla pleaded, emotion threatening to choke her. Crossing her arms over her chest, she held herself in a defensive position, hating how the chill of the evening had begun to make her shiver. This was not a time for her to look weak.
“I shall leave you be as soon as you have allowed me the chance to properly explain,” Lord Sinclair vowed, stepping closer. Though he was still several metres away, she felt as though she could feel the warmth of his body and her own suddenly craved him.
No!she snapped angrily to herself.Do not let him get under your skin again!
But the truth was, she wasn’t sure he had ever left.
“There is nothing for you to explain, my lord. I was a dalliance while your families arranged your marriage with Lady Caroline,” Priscilla stated, struggling to hide the way the words made her cringe just saying them. “I hope that the two of you shall be very happy together.”
With that, she dropped her hands to her sides and started to turn away. If the viscount would not leave, then she would head further into the gardens and pray that he had the good sense not to follow.
She had barely taken a step before the viscount’s fast steps on the shingle shattered the silence, and in the next moment she felt him grip her wrist, urging her back around to face him.
Instinctively, Priscilla moved to strike the nobleman, only to find him too quick. Now he had hold of both her wrists, bracing her to him with no hope of escape the moment that their gazes locked. Breath caught in her throat, Priscilla could do nothing but ride the wave of emotion that coursed throughout her entire body.
“Lord Montgomery was wrong,” Lord Sinclair stated. “It was not I.”
Priscilla searched the nobleman’s eyes as he gazed back at her, unblinking. And what she saw there unsettled her, not because she believed he was lying to her, but because she felt as though he had to be telling the truth. The conviction in his tone, the steely nature of his gaze, the relaxation in his broad and muscular shoulders. Nothing about him suggested that he was lying.
Struggling to speak past the lump in her throat, Priscilla asked, “How am I supposed to believe you?”
