Saving Lord Avingdale

by Lisa Kumar

  “As our Miss Terrance already knows me, I guess I don’t qualify as ‘nice enough,’” an all too familiar male voice teased.

  Against all better judgment to act restrained, she whirled around. There, lounging against one of the pillars that separated the dance floor from the benches in the seating area, was Avingdale. Her mouth went dry. Like always, he looked supremely handsome. A black tailcoat molded the strong muscles of his upper body, while his black knee breeches and white stockings hugged muscular legs that needed no padding.

  She shook her head hazily. When had she become a puddle of hormone-driven goo?

  “Nice has nothing to do with it,” she said, not sure if she were addressing him or herself. Nothing felt nice about this situation. No, it was an in-over-her-head, out-of-comfortable-waters scenario. All was exciting and new. She hated and loved it in equal measures—a very unsettling feeling that caused her stomach to churn with butterflies.

  A roguish smile played over his lips. “That’s what most people say when discussing me.”

  She steeled herself against him. “They must know what they’re talking about.”

  “I can be very pleasant…to the right people.”

  “I’m sure you can.” When he had seduction on the mind. Was that what he was attempting with her?

  Julia’s laughed lightly. “You two are highly entertaining, but I believe I heard guests in the hallway.”

  “Then I shall leave you to your duties, but if you don’t mind, may I take Miss Terrance from you for a moment?”

  “It’s more of a question if she minds.”

  Both of them looked at Maryanne. “Ahh…I don’t—”

  “I’ll return you posthaste.”

  She sighed, frustration welling up that she didn’t have the willpower to tell him no. “Fine.”

  “Such an eager response and a boon to my pride.”

  “Enough people pander to your pride.”

  He gave her a considering glance as he drew her off to the side. “Too right you are. It’s refreshing you see no need to.”

  She shifted under his gaze and tried not to look at him. “So what did you want to discuss? I’m sure you didn’t call me over here so I could poke at your pride.”

  “I wanted to tell you”—he leaned in close—“I haven’t forgotten about my dance.”

  She jerked away. “That’s all?”

  “Yes, why? Did you expect more?”

  “I had no preconceived notions.” Okay, that wasn’t true, but she’d been so sure he was going to say something a little more earthshaking.

  “Hmm, you seem disappointed somehow. How about this? You drive me to distraction with the need to figure you out. In my life, everybody has a place, but you don’t fit nicely in one niche. That’s maddening, and I must reinstate order.”

  His words washed over her, seeping through every pore and crevice. How had he read her mind? Everything he’d said resonated with her. She loved order, and he destroyed it. To think she did the same to him…. It was a glorious, yet horrifying puzzle beyond her means to solve.

  “Everyone in their places,” Lord Correlton’s jovial voice called out, breaking the hold Avingdale’s words exerted over her.

  “He always did have bad timing,” Avingdale muttered. “Back to Lady Correlton’s side you must fly, little bird.”

  After she was safely deposited beside Julia, the guests began to stream in. A dizzying array of names and titles passed through Maryanne’s ears. Her face started to hurt from the fake smile painted on her lips. Even after the dancing commenced with Julia leading the set, the nervous energy roiling through her veins made concentrating hard.

  The first dance came and ended without Avingdale seeking her out. She breathed a sigh of relief. Her dubious dance skills wouldn’t be showcased for all to see yet or her space intruded upon.

  As the sets continued, though, and Avingdale didn’t make an appearance before her, discontent soured her mood further. She knew she was being unreasonable, so she sulked and did what she excelled at—become invisible, no invisibility transmitter needed. The gaggle of elderly chaperones in front of her was the perfect cover. Behind them, no one would think to look for anyone of interest.

  Julia would come around and talk with her every so often, but Maryanne couldn’t monopolize her attention with any good conscience. And since her hiding place scared away almost all gentleman, no asked her to stand up with them, which she loved. The only man she might care about dancing with was Avingdale, and even in this, ambivalence was her friend.

  Then between sets, she saw him with her, and all ambivalence faded away. Lady Sutton hung on his arm as if she had all the right to be there. He appeared to be listening to her with rapt attention. Maryanne’s hands fisted in her lap. The urge to tear the harpy away from Avingdale bombarded her mind.

  With great difficultly, she forced herself to sit back in her seat. She had to be content to glue her gaze to them, which she did at every possible moment during their two dances. If her eyes could’ve seared a hole through Avingdale’s back, he would’ve been toast.

  After Avingdale returned Lady Sutton to her friends, he disappeared. Maryanne didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing. More than likely bad. But at least Lady Sutton remained in the ballroom, so there was no secret rendezvous on her part.

  Right before the opening of the supper room, Maryanne spotted Avingdale’s black hair and broad shoulders in the crowd. She bit her lip. Did she want him to seek her out? What would she do if he did? Silly question. There wasn’t much she could do without making a scene. However, she could politely refuse him if he asked her to dance. No problem, except she couldn’t claim that tiredness forced her to sit out the remaining dances. She’d barely moved from the bench all evening.

  Like an unstoppable wave through a crush of people, Avingdale strode forward. He bowed before her. “I believe I have this dance?”

  All thought of refusal left her turncoat brain, and she nodded. But she couldn’t stop the hysterical thought that he could’ve had any dance he’d wanted with her. Instead, he’d chosen to dance with Lady Sutton first, but he’d picked Maryanne for the “supper” dance. Take that, harpy. Avingdale would be escorting her, Maryanne, to supper and not Lady Sutton.

  Dread and excitement warred for supremacy as she took his hand and he led her out onto the floor. They took their positions near the top of the lines. The strains of music began, and Maryanne covertly glanced at the people around her. If all else failed and she floundered, she’d take her cues from them.

  Fortunately, the steps were the easy ones Julia had taught her. Though she was a little shaky at first, she preformed them with surprising accuracy. She and Avingdale wove and threaded through the other dancers, working their way down the line and sometimes exchanging partners briefly.

  Once they reached the end of the line, she caught her breath and muttered, “That wasn’t so bad.”

  Avingdale chuckled. “Lady Correlton called the figures for this set to ensure they would be simple. She said you didn’t much like dancing and asked me when I was going to steal you away from your corner so you could stand up with me.”

  A welling of gratitude gripped Maryanne. Bless Julia for looking out for her.

  The two dances passed by without two much mishap. Before they left the floor, Avingdale bowed and she curtsied. How antiquated and courtly. She kind of liked it.

  With a flourish, he offered her his arm and escorted her to the supper room. The area was being housed in the dining room, which was decorated much as the ballroom had been for the event. Food lined the tables, and the gentlemen seated their dates.

  After Avingdale seated her, she glanced around. Instead of a cold collation only, warm dishes mingled in the offering. An epergne with fruits and vegetables had center attention at each table. Avingdale procured some chicken, ham, white soup, jellies, trifles, and negus for her. He wisely left off all the seafood. Smart man. He must’ve observed from the other meals they’d sh
ared that she didn’t like the stuff.

  Her favorite experience, though, had to be the dessert course. Various fruit whips, ices, and ornamental confectionaries ended up on her plate. Avingdale chuckled as he watched her eat, and she scowled at him.

  “It is good to see a lady enjoy her food.”

  “You’re saying I’m being coarse with my dining manners?”

  “No, but you’re not hiding your pleasure of a good meal.”

  “Why should I?”

  “Why should you indeed? If only all ladies were like you.”

  She flushed at the compliment. “I don’t know if I’d go that far.”

  “In this I’m being truthful.”

  She nearly spat out her wine. Had he realized what he’d said? “So you’re telling the truth in this instance only?”

  A touch of color tinged his cheeks. “I misspoke and didn’t mean it quite that way.”

  “Then how did you mean it?” she asked, enjoying seeing him on the receiving end of an uncomfortable exchange for once.

  He leaned toward her, speaking so quietly no one could overhear them. “I merely meant I was being completely honest, nothing more. I do find your healthy appetite charming even if it’s unconventional. In fact, this holds true for many of the things you do.”

  Flatterer. She wasn’t used to such praise and was sure it showed in the way her hands shook as she nursed her wine glass. “Uh, umm…thanks,” she said softly. Yeah, she shouldn’t be allowed to talk to handsome men—ever. How did a person respond to compliments of that type without awkwardness or a crushing sense of self-awareness? “Though I’m sure there are much more fascinating women here.” A little streak of deviltry prodded her on. “Take Lady Sutton for example.”

  Something flashed across his face, but he quickly masked it. “She is a delightful lady, but nothing compared to you.”

  “Your words are too kind.” And they were. No way could she ever be more captivating than the likes of Lady Sutton.

  He frowned. “You don’t believe me.”

  “I know empty words when I hear them.”

  “You never accept a kind word about yourself as truth.” He sat back, which told her their little semi-private conversation was over.

  While Avingdale still spoke with her after that, his reserve was back in full force. The rest of the meal, she went back and forth between cursing herself for discouraging him and congratulating herself for managing to halt any overly friendly exchanges.

  Then supper ended, and he led her back to the ballroom. After a few pleasantries, he left her with Julia, who was conversing with a group of women.

  Maryanne did her best to fit in, but even more than normal, her heart wasn’t into it. She found herself glancing around the room, trying to locate Avingdale. Not a peek of him was in sight. Her mind zoomed into overdrive, and she frowned. Could he be meeting a lady? With a sinking lurch of her stomach, she searched for Lady Sutton but came up empty-handed.

  Though she attempted to not ruminate over the possibility of what their disappearance meant, she had no luck. Images of Avingdale and Lady Sutton kissing played before her eyes. With a deep breath, she pushed the thoughts aside, but they kept popping up when she least expected them. Right now even, he and that woman might be up to nothing good, bringing his path to destruction that much—

  No, I won’t think about this anymore.

  When one of the ladies, a Lady Redford who was a close friend of Julia’s, asked how Maryanne had enjoyed the attentiveness of her handsome supper partner, she wanted to sink into the floor. Wasn’t it enough she couldn’t stop thinking about him? Now she had to talk about him?

  “The supper was lovely, and Lord Avingdale was the ideal gentleman to have sitting beside me.”

  Lady Redford sighed dreamily. “Many a lady wished she was in your place.”

  “Like you, Minnie?” Julia teased.

  “Oh, you. You know I love my David, but I can still admire a fine form when I see it.”

  The assembled ladies sniggered, and the conversation devolved into which fine forms they most approved of. Since Maryanne didn’t know most of the men mentioned, she quickly lost interest. After making an excuse about tiredness, Maryanne drifted back to her bench to hide for the last few hours of the ball.

  But she found she didn’t want to sit any longer. She’d go to Julia and say she had a headache—which wasn’t entirely false. Her head did ache a bit. When she sought Julia out, though, her friend was surrounded by a group of men. Maryanne hung back, uncertainty tugging at her. She hated walking up to a group of unknown women, but when they were men instead? No way.

  She’d just sneak out and go to her room. Julia would understand, and Maryanne could put the evening—and Avingdale and Lady Sutton—out of her mind.

  Chapter 6

  Freedom! For the first time since Avingdale left her side that night, Maryanne’s mood shot upward. Getting out of that stuffy ballroom was the medicine she needed. A little time and clarity would take care of everything else. It always did.

  The sound of a door opening caught her attention, and instinctively, Maryanne drew into the shadows near the wall. Lady Sutton slipped through the door, glancing around furtively but not seeming to see her.

  Maryanne remained rooted into place. Some horrible premonition warned her that she’d see Avingdale leave the room if she waited long enough. And she did. A few minutes later the door opened and out he came.

  Even though she’d known what to expect, the crushing blow of it still nearly rung a gasp from her.

  She bumped against a table and set the vase of flowers rocking. Her hand shot out to stop it from crashing to the ground. But the damage was done. Avingdale turned toward her, and his face darkened as he squinted into the darkness. Oh, her klutziness—it was always her downfall.

  He strode toward her, his face lightening with each step. “Miss Terrance?”

  “Y-yes.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  She bristled at his question. “I could ask the same of you.”

  With resolute will, she walked past him, but he stopped her. “It’s not what you believe.”

  She glanced down at where his hand rested on her arm, and shrugged off his light grip. “It doesn’t matter. Whatever is between you and Lady Sutton doesn’t concern me.”

  So what if he’d kissed her and escorted her to supper? Neither of those events counted for anything, apparently.

  He spread his hands and gestured to the room he’d vacated. “Let us talk in private.”

  “Why?”

  “I—there is something between us, is there not?”

  “And something between you and Lady Sutton as well.”

  He sighed. “I know it seems that way, so I suppose I deserved that. Please, I insist that we talk. I won’t accept no for an answer.”

  Going against her innate rationality, she moved forward and entered the room. “Let’s make this quick.”

  “Are you so quick to desert my company?”

  Now it was her turn to sigh. “It’s not as simple as your question would make it seem.”

  He closed the door. “Then tell me what complicates the matter.”

  She drew in a sharp breath. To settle her nerves, she glanced around at her surroundings. The few lit wall sconces revealed a light-blue casual room that screamed elegant informality. Maybe a morning room?

  Knowing she’d postponed long enough, she focused her attention on Avingdale. She did her best to ignore how her heart jumped in her chest whenever she looked at him. “I can’t tell you. Anyway, you wouldn’t believe me.”

  “It seems we’re at a standstill. You claim I won’t believe, but you don’t believe.”

  She wished she didn’t understand what he meant, but she understood all too well. No, she didn’t believe. She didn’t trust the true nature behind his actions. Allowing herself to be that vulnerable could be devastating. “Somethings are better left alone.”

  “Why don’t you
allow me to judge the veracity of that?”

  Indecision licked at her. She was rash and stupid to even consider it, but if she told him the truth, she would likely take care of whatever lie between them. He’d think her crazy and never come around her again. Part of her, though, wanted to tell him because seeing his awed expression would be worth it all. But most importantly, she wanted him to believe her outlandish tale of time-travel and a modern world beyond his dreams.

  But memories of him with Lady Sutton intruded, and she stubbornly shook her head. She couldn’t make any hasty decisions that might alter history. “First, you tell me what you have to say, then I’ll decide whether to relay my tale.”

  “You ask for much and give little in return.”

  She jerked up her chin. “Those are my terms. Take them or leave them.”

  “I acquiesce.” He nodded toward her. “I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors concerning me and Lady Sutton?”

  “Yes.” Though she didn’t need rumors to see how the lady acted around him. Her eyes were quite capable of telling her all she needed to know.

  “I won’t deny that we…carried on a flirtation that nearly went further.”

  Something, probably cruel hope, propelled her to ask, “Why didn’t it?”

  “I met you.”

  Her breath whooshed out as if he’d socked her in the gut. His words were what she’d dreamed of and feared, so what better way to deny them than to play dumb? “I fail to see how that stopped you.”

  “You don’t?” He strode forward until only a few millimeters remained between them. “Or do you merely not want to see?”

  She lurched back, but he followed her. Holding her hands up, she held him off so a foot separated them. “I don’t want to have this conversation.”

  He gave a harsh laugh. “You can’t always get what you want, Miss Terrance. You’re not leaving this room until I’m done.”

  A thrill coursed through her. Who knew she liked men going all possessive and alpha male on her? But she couldn’t let him know. Too embarrassing. “I’ll leave whenever I want.”