Page 56 of The Earl She Once Saved

They look well together.

The thought entered cleanly, like a blade.

Celestine was all lightness where Verity was severity, all ease where Verity was held together by effort no one saw. She belonged in rooms like this. She knew when to laugh, when to lower her eyes and when to let her hand linger just long enough upon a man’s arm to be noticed.

Verity watched Rafe turn her through the figures. Then his eyes found hers. The room moved between them. Couples passed, color and candlelight breaking the line of sight, but each time they parted he was still looking.

Verity did not look away. She could not have said why.

Beside her, Aunt Cordelia exhaled. “You might at least try.”

Verity’s gaze remained upon the dancers. “I am here.”

“That is not what I mean.”

“No. It rarely is.”

“Smile,” her aunt urged. “Speak to someone. Move among them.”

“And give the county something other than a cold face to gossip over?”

“Yes.”

Verity turned to her aunt. “Do you imagine a pleasant word or two will make them forget I was abandoned?”

Aunt Cordelia flinched. “I imagine it may keep them from thinking you resent every person in the room.”

“At present, that would be a lie.”

“Verity.”

The music swelled. Laughter broke too loudly near them. Someone brushed against Verity’s shoulder and did not apologize.

The room seemed suddenly smaller. The chandeliers burned too hot. Perfume thickened in her throat. Everywhere she looked, there were eyes, smiles and mouths lowered toward listening ears.

Neither wife nor widow.

Under the new heir’s roof.

She thought herself prepared for this, but she mistook stillness for strength.

“I require air.”

Aunt Cordelia reached for her. “Not now. Everyone will see—”

“That appears to be the purpose of the evening.”

Verity moved before her aunt could stop her. She crossed the ballroom without haste. She would not run, not with the county watching for precisely that. She passed through the open doors at the far end of the room and stepped onto the terrace.

Cold air struck her face. She drew it deep into her lungs. Below, the Marchmont gardens lay in darkness, the gravel paths silvered faintly beneath the moon. Music followed her through the open doors, softened now by distance.

Verity descended the steps.

Behind her, a shadow detached itself from the light and followed.

Chapter 10

Rafe followed her into the garden.