That was it.
Done.
Dansbury and his niece officially climbed to second and third position on his revenge list. He wouldn’t be satisfied until they both got what they deserved. He turned back to give the woman that put a look of shame on his wildflower’s face a piece of his damn mind, a slew of curses that would send her fully intoruin, but before he could open his mouth, the chance was stolen from him.
A second splash of red arced through the air and caught Lady Gabrielle square across the face, dripping from her chin, her lashes, her hair.
“Oh!” Lady Persephone pressed a hand to her mouth, eyes wide with an impure innocence no one in this ballroom was fool enough to believe. “I’m so sorry! I must have gotten caught up in your spectacle.”
The room dissolved into scandalized whispers.
Julien turned back to Lady Elowyn.
Only to find her gone.
Chapter 7
“No, I’m not going,” Elowyn said. “It’s all hopeless.”
Humiliation still wrapped around Elowyn like an oversized cloak two days later in the drawing room, refusing to let her go even in the face of her two friends and brother’s encouragement and reassurances. She’d thought this would be the season of seasons. How wrong she’d been. Her season was ruined. Absolutely ruined. How could she show her face in public again?
She refused to attend another ball.
She was done.
It was over.
“You’re overthinking, it’s not that bad . . .” Isadora murmured, then gave a small cough. “It’s not hopeless. Come with us to Lady Ophelia’s tea tomorrow. It will be fun.”
Elowyn shook her head furiously. “No.”
“Elowyn.”
“No, Zachary.” Her brother had been attached at her side since he rushed after her when she dashed from the ball. “Can you please leave us girls to conspire?”
He gave a long-suffering sigh before nodding. She didn’t miss the pleading looks he sent to her friends. “I’ll be close.”
Elowyn watched him retreat and sighed. If her father had been home, he might have dealt with that wretched family in one fell swoop. Even her brother was restless to deal with them, but Lady Gabrielle was a woman. The men were disarmed, so to speak. That woman needed a woman to sort her out, and Elowyn had no notion how. She was not deft with malice. LadyGabrielle’s art was calculation—diabolical calculation, if one must name it—and Elowyn was out of her depth. Fortunately, she had friends such as Persephone, who had no qualms about equal retribution. But still, she wasnotleaving this house for the rest of the season.
“It’s a tea,” Persephone argued. “It will be fun. Plus, I can assure you, the whispers about me and that harpy are much more than the whispers about you. Everyone is questioning her motives.” Persephone grinned. “Plus, I believe I sorted out your problem as well.”
“I wish I had been there,” Isadora muttered. “Not only would I have loved to see that woman brought low, she’d have another glass of wine splashed in her face!”
It could always have been worse. At least Elowyn’s dress had taken the brunt of the wine and not her face. “I’m still not going.”
“That woman won’t be there, and if she does show her face, we’ll splash it with tea.”
Elowyn’s lips quirked. “I won’t be swayed.”
“What if the Duke of Mandeville is there?”
Elowyn scowled. This was all that thieving barbarian’s fault. If he had not burst into her life like a thunderstorm, this would never have happened.
Liar. You could have said no. You could have exchanged anything else.
And yet he had covered her with his jacket. A jacket that was still in her bedchamber draped over a chair. A jacket that still had the tones of sandalwood clinging to the collar. She should forget the man. Forget he ever existed. Forget he kissed her. Danced with her. Protected her. All that made her believe hecared for her. But how could he? She was simply a means to an end with him. While she . . . her heart . . . it simply couldn’t stop skipping a beat whenever she thought of the beast.
“Do not bring up that man in front of me. I’m determined to forget his existence.”