Page 12 of The Dare Before Christmas

“It’s of no matter. I shall go on my own. I believe I can manage such a task all by myself,” she said, aware that her tone was too brittle but unable to soften it for fear of revealing the depths of her humiliation.

She turned before they could say another word, striding across the gardens, hurrying as fast as she could to get away from Mr Godwin, and Evie and Louis’ sympathetic expressions.

“Nicely done, mon ami,” Louis said, glowering after the lady as she strode away, head held high, shoulders stiff.

Barnaby muttered a curse. “That was entirely your fault,” he retorted. “If you hadn’t been playing matchmaker, I would not have had cause to say such a thing.”

“Oh, do stop squabbling,” Evie said impatiently. “Barnaby, I do not care a jot who you blame, but now you simply must go after her and apologise. Did you not see the hurt in her eyes?”

A shaft of regret skewered his heart at Evie’s words. Yes, he had seen the flash of pain before she had masked it so completely. That he had caused such feelings made him feel rather nauseated, though that he had the power to inflict such harm still seemed extraordinary. Perhaps because he had always been overshadowed by his older brothers—who were louder and dominated any conversation or gathering with the force of their presence—or perhaps because of late he had become used to standing in Louis’ shadow, he was unaccustomed to being the centre of attention. To be the focus of Lady Victoria’s regard seemed so farfetched he hardly knew what to make of it, but it seemed the lady was in earnest, and he had just stamped all over her feelings like the veriest lout.

“Fine. I’m going, but I will thank you to stop meddling between us, for you are not helping in the least,” he said, regretting his terse words at once but too anxious to follow the lady to stop and amend them. So, he left his friends standing on the steps of Heart’s Folly and hurried off after Lady Victoria.

She had already travelled a fair distance from the house, and Barnaby broke into a run to catch her. He could not help but admire the picture she made set against the frozen winter scene. Her warm winter gown was a pale green with a matching bonnet, though the satin ribbons were a deep forest green, making his imagination picture her as some delicate woodland creature running back to the safety of her home. A thick, dark green shawl striped in blue, pink and yellow, was wrapped tightly about her slender shoulders, the multicoloured fringe dancing as she hurried on.

“My lady,” he called. “Lady Victoria, please wait.”

She did not turn, though he knew she had heard from the stiffening of her shoulders.

“Victoria!” he tried again, wondering if this less formal approach might gain better results.

Suddenly she stopped, swinging around to face him with a huff. “Mr Godwin, you’ve made your feelings quite obvious to all. I promise you, I have received the message loud and clear. I shall not foist my company on you again.”

Barnaby caught her up and blew out a breath of frustration. “You know that is not how things are, or why I prefer to keep away.”

She snorted at that and walked off.

“Fine, then do as you wish and leave me alone. As I said, I shall not bother you again.”

“You know I cannot do that,” he protested, following her as she took the path that led into the trees. Ahead of them they could hear the faint sounds of laughter from the others, so Victoria turned to the right, plunging into the woods in the opposite direction. “Everyone else went that way,” Barnaby pointed out, earning himself a glare of annoyance.

“Then do go and join them,” she said, with icy politeness.

Barnaby sighed, with little choice but to follow her. He watched as she picked her way through the overgrowth, for there was no well-worn path here and her skirts hindered her passage. Barnaby kept close, afraid she would trip on a fallen branch, and then found himself hastily looking away as she lifted her skirts to step over a rotten log, giving him a tantalising glimpse of slender ankles.

“I really think we ought to join the others, Lady Victoria,” he said, hoping to cajole her into turning back as the woodland was becoming thicker and less friendly. “It is a Christmas party, after all. We’re supposed to be sociable.”

She turned and shot him a volcanic look that felt as if it singed his skin, such was its impact.

“Or we can carry on stumbling into the wilderness,” he added. “That is a perfectly valid option.” A completely idiotic option, he thought inwardly, though he was sensible enough to keep that observation to himself. Barnaby sighed as a bramble caught at his coat and stopped to untangle the blasted thing, only to hear a gasp and a muffled thud.

“Oh, drat and bother!” the lady exclaimed.

Tugging free of the thorns, not heeding the damage it did to the fabric, Barnaby hurried to the heap of skirts and petticoats now decorating the forest floor.

“Victoria! Are you hurt?” he demanded, doing his utmost to ignore the long, elegant stocking clad legs on show as she’d sprawled in an undignified heap.

“Only my p-pride,” she said crossly, though the hitch in her voice told him how mortified she was.

“Here, up you come.” Barnaby reached down, grasping her hands in his and helping her to her feet.

Her bonnet had fallen off, dangling from her neck by its ribbons, and there were leaves in her hair, her cheeks flushed a beguiling pink from the cold and embarrassment. Barnaby felt a rush of tenderness towards her, needing to take away the sad glitter in her eyes, his heart aching as he saw the fierce way she held herself together, though her lip trembled slightly.

“Are you hurt?” he asked softly.

She shook her head, a sharp movement that was as brief as it was unconvincing.

“Show me,” he urged.