Page 57 of The Earl She Once Saved

He had seen Verity leave the ballroom. He had seen the moment before it, too: Cordelia speaking close beside her and Verity standing so still that anyone who did not know her might have mistaken it for composure. Rafe was beginning to know better.

The night air struck cold after the heat of the ballroom. Music followed him through the open doors, bright and distant, while gravel shifted beneath his shoes. Ahead, Verity stood beside a stone urn, one hand resting upon its rim.

She had not gone far. Had she run, he might have called it anger. The stillness of her retreat offered him no such comfort.

Moonlight caught the blue of her gown and turned it almost silver. From behind, she appeared as she had all evening: straight-backed, motionless, every line of her arranged against the possibility of being pitied.

Then he came near enough to see her hand. Her fingers were trembling.

“Verity.”

She turned sharply. For one unguarded second, he saw it all, the hurt, the humiliation and beneath both, something older and more exhausted than either.

Then her face closed. “My lord.”

The title was a warning.

Rafe stopped several feet away. He learned enough not to move closer merely because he wished to.

“I did not mean to disturb you.”

“You followed me.”

“Yes.”

“That appears to be a habit of yours.”

It was a poor attempt at sharpness. The blade did not reach him.

Behind them, another figure appeared upon the terrace. Aunt Cordelia halted within the light spilling from the ballroom, close enough to watch and too far to hear anything spoken quietly.

Rafe looked back at Verity. “Would you like to leave?”

The question seemed to surprise her. “What?”

“If you wish to go home, we can go now.”

Her fingers tightened upon the stone. “Supper has not been served.”

“I am aware.”

She frowned as if she did not understand. “The Marchmonts will consider it an insult.”

“Then they will survive one.”

Something altered in her face, so briefly he might have imagined it.

“You need not leave on my account.”

“I asked what you wished.”

“You have spent the evening being introduced to half the county.”

“I have met men under cannon fire with more interesting conversation.”

Her mouth almost moved. Rafe would have given a great deal to see what might have followed, but her aunt descended the terrace steps before it could appear.

“There you are.” Her voice carried the brittle brightness of someone determined to prevent a scene by announcing that none existed. “Verity, you cannot simply disappear.”