Page 13 of The Viscount's Diamond Bride
“You,” Ursula whispered. “I met you in Hatchard’s. I tripped over you while you were collecting your books.”
The man tilted his head. “Yes, you did. You are Lady Ursula Fairmont. Forgive me, I didn’t recognize you before.”
She swallowed thickly, rising shakily to her feet. “I… I look a sight. I cannot possibly go back into the ballroom in this state.”
“No, I think not,” the man murmured, eyeing her up and down with a frown. “Although of course you have done nothing wrong.”
She gave a short, mirthless laugh. “I’m not sure that Society will see it that way.”
Ursula’s legs were like jelly, and suddenly she was afraid that they would not hold her weight. She tottered, stretching out her hand for balance, and suddenly the man was there, holding out his arms to steady her. Ursula took his hand, almost without thinking. A frisson of energy shot through her again, just as ithad before, and she found that her mouth was dry. Glancing up, she saw that he was looking down at her, his face calm and his eyes thoughtful.
“I never did ask your name,” Ursula murmured. “I told you mine but never asked yours.”
He gave a faint smile. “My name is Graham. I’m Lord Sinclair.”
“Ah, I see. I’ve heard of you.”
“I’m sure you have. Now, let’s concentrate on getting you somewhere a little more proper, shall we? I thought…”
He broke off abruptly as voices echoed across the lawn. Spinning around, Ursula saw shadowy figures striding towards the little wooded area. They were led by Georgie.
“I saw her go in here,” Georgie was saying, twisted around to speak to the people behind her. Mr. and Mrs. Winter were there, along with Charlotte.
Worst of all, Mrs. Sanderson-Peters trotted along in the rear, accompanied by Mrs. Jest, her toady. The women were infamous as the worst gossips in the country. No doubt they’d heard a whisper of scandal and had come hurrying along to find out for themselves.
“No,” Ursula gasped. “No. Lord Sinclair, I really cannot…”
Then it was too late. Mrs. Sanderson-Peters lifted her spindly arm and pointed directly at Ursula.
“Lady Ursula!” Mrs. Winter gasped, hurrying towards her only to recoil when she saw the state of her. “Heavens, what has happened?”
Swallowing thickly, Ursula tilted up her chin, trying and failing to recover her dignity. Her dress sagged, the sleeve having been torn off, and there were other tears near the hem, revealing a ragged piece of petticoat. Her hair hung in a tangled mass at the back of her neck, and her cheek was bruised.
And, of course, there was the fact that Lord Sinclair was standing entirely too close to her, in a secluded tree glade, with London’s most notorious rake sprawled out on the ground nearby.
“Oh, Ursula,” Georgie gasped, pressing her hands against her cheeks. “Whathaveyou done?”
Mr. and Mrs. Winter exchanged horrified glances.
“Atourparty, no less!” Mrs. Winter hissed.
Charlotte met Ursula’s eyes, and Ursula saw fear in her friend’s face.
“Shameful,” Mrs. Sanderson-Peters murmured, and Charlotte rounded on her, eyes blazing.
“Instead of gawping, madam, might you perhaps do something useful?” she snapped. “Go and fetch Lady Ursula’s parents.”
Mrs. Sanderson-Peters shot her a nasty look, but obeyed, leaving Mrs. Jest to trot along after her.
“Lord Sinclair, I hope to hear a full explanation from you,” Mr. Winter managed at last, his voice wavering.
“Certainly,” the man answered, his voice cool. “I can assure you that Lady Ursula here bears no blame. The blame lies with Sir Roderick, who accosted her while she was walking here. I was fortunately close enough to intervene. Lady Ursula is innocent.”
“Oh, but that doesn’t matter,” Charlotte murmured. She did not look at her friend. “All that matters is how this all looks. And with Mrs. Sanderson-Peters and her wretched toady having witnessed it, it can’t be kept secret. Ursula, what have you done?”
She swallowed thickly, trying to work moisture into her dry mouth.
“I didn’t do anything wrong, Charlotte,” Ursula managed. “Truly, I didn’t.”
