Chapter 5

5

M eg went still as a statue as the Duke turned to face her.

This could not be happening.

"I'll just…we were only…" one of the Fergusons sputtered. His twin didn't even bother. He kept his lips pinched tightly together as she turned her gaze from one fool to the other.

She almost felt pity for the Ferguson twins.

Almost.

Their slack-jawed gaping could almost be considered comical. And the horror in the Duke of Carver's eyes…

Oh yes, she should be falling over with laughter right now.

And she would laugh. Soon.

One day.

But right now, it required all of her will not to cry.

"Miss Taylor." Carver seemed to break free of his shock first, but the sound of her name had Meg blinking herself back to the present as well.

Ann, who'd been frozen at her side, no doubt just as horrified as Meg herself, also seemed to recall where she was. "H-how…how d-dare you?—"

"It's all right, Ann." Meg turned to the sweet redhead with a smile that made her cheeks ache. With her smile she tried to convey a silent message, and Ann's eyes widened further at what she saw there.

Don't , Meg tried to say.

Reacting in anger would only cause more of a spectacle. And in addition to Carver and the Ferguson twins, Meg noticed the crowd around them on the veranda beginning to take notice.

How much they'd seen, she did not know, but there was no mistaking the eagerness in their gazes as everyone seemed to catch on at once that the Duke and Pegleg Meg were having a confrontation.

Blast! This was exactly what she'd hoped to avoid. She and Ann had come outside to avoid the whispers and hopefully find a place to remain out of sight, and instead she'd come across this scene.

Her lungs felt too small as she met the Duke's horrified gaze.

Oh yes, she could well imagine he was horrified. He'd just been caught mocking the great Viscount's daughter once again.

She ought to tell him he'd have to do far worse than this to earn her father's censure.

He was a Duke, after all. And no one would let her forget it.

Her jaw was clenched too tight, and her hands were clasped together painfully as she fought with all she had to keep tears at bay.

She swallowed hard in order to speak. "If you'll excuse us…"

She could see the steps of the veranda straight ahead. The sun had set, but the moon was bright, and lanterns lit the way to a garden. A sanctuary. She bolted toward the stairs, but his hand caught her upper arm, making her stumble to a stop.

She heard a giggle nearby.

"Miss Taylor, please?—"

She wrenched her arm from his grasp. This time she didn't bother trying to make her excuses. She didn't even stop to think how it might look to the crowd as she lurched forward toward the stairs.

"Meg, wait," Ann called behind her.

Meg felt a pang of guilt. Ann had enough issues of her own in the marriage mart. The last thing she needed was to be dragged down further by Meg's scandal. So Meg halted long enough to turn and face her breathless friend.

"I'm c-coming with you." Ann's chin was set and her green eyes sparkled with anger.

Meg reached for her friend's hand. "Would you do me a favor?"

"Of course. Anything."

"Will you tell my mother I'm not feeling well and am in need of the carriage?"

Ann's brows came down. "I'm not leaving you alone at a time like this?—"

"Miss Taylor." Carver's voice was right behind them, and Ann's eyes widened. Meg refused to look at the Duke who hovered just behind Ann, awaiting a word.

Instead, Meg forced a smile for her friend. "I'll be fine. I just…please, Ann. Please do this for me."

Ann wavered, her hesitation clear as she looked over her shoulder to the Duke and then back to Meg.

"We're in the midst of a crowd," Meg murmured. "There is little he can do to harm me here."

Carver's sharp inhale was loud enough for her to hear. Loud enough to make it clear that he'd heard her say that.

Had she insulted his honor then?

What a pity.

"Go, Ann. Please." Her smile was so strained, she had a feeling it looked more like a grimace. "I know it's cowardly, but?—"

"It's not cowardly." Ann's tone was filled with ire as she glared over her shoulder at the Duke. " You are not the coward here, Meg."

The Duke's jaw clenched tight. Had Ann offended him with that jab?

Again…

What a pity.

Meg felt a hysterical laugh bubbling up, that was terrifyingly similar to the feel of a sob swelling in her chest. She wasn't sure which would escape if she opened her mouth.

She nudged her friend's arm and whispered. "Go. Please."

Ann sighed. "All right. I'll be back as soon as I'm able."

Meg nodded. "I'll be fine."

The moment Ann walked away, back toward the Turners' home, Meg turned as well.

"Miss Taylor, please…"

She didn't wait to hear what Carver said next. The stairs were awash with a warm glow, thanks to the well-placed lanterns. And she heard laughter and chatter coming from the lower level, where the ground-floor veranda stretched all the way to a large circular fountain, and to the gardens beyond.

Her breathing grew ragged, and for what must have been the tenth time today alone, she cursed her weak leg as she clutched the railing on the way down the steps.

Even moving as quickly as she was able, the Duke with his irritatingly long, lean, and no-doubt healthy legs easily kept pace beside her.

"If you'll please just give me a moment, Miss Taylor?—"

"You're causing a spectacle." She grit it out through her teeth, and he fell silent. Before she could stop herself, she shot him a sidelong glare. "Again."

He winced. "All right, yes. I understand how that must have looked, but?—"

"But nothing." She reached the bottom of the steps, and all eyes swiveled in her direction as the Duke came to stand at her side.

"Just hear my apology, please. I'd like to make this right."

"If you truly wish to make this right, then you will leave me alone." She instantly regretted speaking, because her voice went up and her tone sounded so pathetic and breathy she wished she could call it back and try again.

But there were eyes everywhere and Carver's presence at her side made her heart race and her skin heat.

He'd made a joke of her. This handsome young lord everyone believed to be so charming.

He had it all at his fingertips. The whole blasted world. And yet he was standing here, seemingly intent on destroying what little comfort she'd managed to find in anonymity.

"I am going to walk away now," she said, taking a moment to revel in the fact that her voice hadn't sounded as shaky as before. "And if you have half a heart in that big, broad chest of yours, you will watch me go and leave me be."

She didn't wait for a response as she hurried away, but she heard him. Not his voice. Oh no. She heard his footsteps, all even and perfect as he followed in her wake. Tears pricked the back of her eyes as she kept her chin up high.

What was he doing? Why wouldn't he stop already? Her mind's eye filled with the memory of that Ferguson boy pretending to limp around.

Was that what she looked like? Was that what everyone did when she walked away?

Pressing her lips together, she tried not to think.

I will not cry.

She wouldn't give them that satisfaction.

She'd nearly reached the fountain when she'd composed herself well enough to whirl around and face him.

The partygoers weren't far behind them, but far enough that she could speak without being overheard. "What do you think you're doing?"

His expression was grim, his gaze so fierce she felt her heart trip in response.

Drat. He was too handsome for his own good. No young man should be born with wealth, status, and then have such a handsome face to boot.

It was too much.

God had spoiled him.

So perhaps it was only right then that he'd grown up to be so wicked and cruel.

"I cannot let you wander off on your own," he started. "I know you wish me gone, but?—"

"You actually think I need you to act as some sort of escort?" A bitter laugh escaped. "Pardon me, Your Grace, but it's gentlemen like you that I need to be saved from."

A flicker of regret in those sparkling eyes. "I deserve that."

"And I deserve to be left alone."

He winced. "Yes. You're likely right. But please…" He took a step toward her.

He was so tall. So broad. Close to him like this, she was all too aware of her own small frame. He was the very definition of hale and hearty and she was…

Frail.

He made her feel weak.

Tears threatened again, and she couldn't draw in enough air. "We shouldn't be alone like this. It's not proper."

"There's a veranda full of guests behind us. Surely you can spare me a moment to explain."

She took another step back. She just needed space so she could breathe.

He frowned and moved toward her again. "Please, just?—"

"No." She backed up again, and this time her bad leg hit the edge of the fountain.

Her leg was a mutinous beast at the best of times, but the surprise of bumping into the fountain's edge, combined with a leg that had a tendency to give way at the worst possible time and?—

"Miss Taylor!" He lunged forward, trying to help her. But the next thing she knew…

Meg was falling backward…into the fountain.