Part 2 (1/2)

”No, but you might have offered more explanation!”

Of course she might have, and she really wasn't sure why she hadn't, other than the things Greer had said about Middleton and Lady Purnam's edict rambling about her head. ”I beg your pardon, Lady Purnam, but you told me-”

”Dear G.o.d,” Lady Purnam said, fanning herself so violently that it was a wonder the feathers in her hair didn't take flight. ”It is exactly as I told your mother-you can be entirely too obtuse at times, Ava. Yes indeed, I told you not to be so carelessly personal with the gentlemen in this room, but I did not intend for you to insult the Marquis of Middleton!”

”I did nothing to insult him!” Ava protested. ”At least I didn't mean to insult him. Honestly, I would have preferred to dance with him, to kick my shoes off and dance, but you quite clearly told me I could not.”

”Oh!” Lady Purnam said with much exasperation. ”You know very well what I meant! As I live and breathe,” she sighed irritably. ”To have witnessed your tragic dismissal of a fine lord, one who is unquestionably the best catch in all of London-Have you any idea of his fortune?”

No, but Lady Purnam would enlighten her, Ava was very certain. Before she did so, however, Ava saw her opportunity in this so-called tragedy. ”Now will you allow your carriage to take me home? I cannot possibly bear to see him again after my gaffe,” she insisted.

”Yes, dear, do go home at once and tell your mother what you did, and hope for your sake that she can see a way to repair it, for I certainly cannot!” she said, signaling a footman.

Ava would indeed go home and tell her mother. In fact, she couldn't wait to tell her mother that while Lady Purnam might be her dearest friend, she was far too easily excited by the smallest things. She had not insulted Middleton. She simply had refused to fall at his feet just because he'd tried to seduce her with a smile. Admittedly, it was a knee-shaking smile, but that was neither here nor there.

And so it was, a quarter of an hour later that, having announced to Phoebe and Greer that Lady Purnam was sending her home in the coach, Ava stood in the foyer, her cloak gathered tightly about her, waiting for the footman to return and tell her that Lady Purnam's new barouche had been brought round.

The footman entered the foyer a moment later, along with a cold gust of wind that hit Ava squarely in the face. ”Weather's taken a turn, milady,” the footman said apologetically. ”Unusual for this time of year.”

”So it is,” Ava said, and peered out. There were no fewer than three crested carriages in front of the house, all of them s.h.i.+ny testaments to the caliber of guest Lady Fontaine had in her house.

Unfortunately, Lady Purnam's grand new carriage looked exactly like the other two, save the crest, and for the life of her, Ava could not remember the Purnam crest.

”Which one is Lady Purnam's?” she asked.

”That one there,” the footman said, pointing to the three carriages. ”The one with the bird in its crest.”

”Oh, yes, of course,” Ava mumbled, and took an uncertain step outside. The sleet had turned to snow, and fat, wet flakes were making it very hard to see.

Another footman appeared holding a lantern high. ”Milady,” he said, indicating she should come now.

Ava stepped out and hurried forward as best she could with her broken shoe. As they neared the carriages, a coachman swung down from the bench of the first carriage to open the door. Ava had only a moment to see the crest, but she saw an eagle carrying a branch in its talons. The coachman held his hand out to Ava, which she took and quickly ducked inside, landing on a thickly padded velvet squab, the same deep red color of the silk covered walls. The shades-likewise made of silk-were drawn.

”There's a rug beneath the seat, milady,” the coachman said hurriedly, and shut the door, obviously anxious to be under his pelts and leaving her in total darkness in his haste.

”Drat,” Ava muttered, and bent over to find the lap rug when she heard men's voices calling out and the carriage suddenly lurched forward, pitching Ava off balance. She put a hand out to the bench opposite to steady herself, but instead of touching velvet, she touched a living, breathing thing.

With a shriek, Ava shot up, flinging herself back against the squabs at the same moment the flare of a match lit the interior of the carriage and illuminated the Marquis of Middleton. She gasped loudly and for the air she needed to breathe; he was stretched across the opposite bench, his shoulder against the silk wall, one foot planted firmly on the floor of the coach, but one leg c.o.c.ked at the knee, his foot perched irreverently on the velvet squab as he reached up and lit the interior lamp.

It took another moment for Ava to find her voice. ”What...what are you doing in Lady Purnam's carriage?” she asked, pressing a hand to her rapidly beating heart.

”I'm not in Lady Purnam's carriage. I'm in my carriage.”

How slowly the meaning of those words penetrated her consciousness. After what seemed like minutes, Ava finally realized she was in the wrong carriage. ”Oh my G.o.d,” she exclaimed, mortified, and instantly moved for the door-but Middleton stopped her with a well-placed boot to the handle of the same door.

”If you have stolen inside my coach to apologize for delivering a direct cut to me in front of all of London, I accept.”

She blinked. ”I didn't come to apologize.” Middleton lifted a brow. ”Dear G.o.d,” she muttered. ”My lord, I have made a horrible mistake.”

He smiled smugly.

”I mean that I was to be in Lady Purnam's carriage and the footman said there was a bird in the crest, but as I hadn't paid the slightest bit of attention to Lady Purnam's crest I was uncertain about any bird until I saw the eagle...” she said, gesturing vaguely to the door of his coach. ”Although now I seem to remember a nightingale...” She shook her head, unclear about what she remembered. ”I have broken my shoe,” she added quickly, sliding her foot out for him to see.

He glanced down at her foot.

”And Lady Purnam said that her carriage would see me home. So you see it's all a very unfortunate mistake.”

”Very,” he said low as his dark gaze skated over her to the hem of her gown and back.

Ava swallowed hard. The coach lurched again, only this time, it kept moving. ”Oh dear,” she said,gripping the squabs. ”Will you please have your driver stop so that I may step out?”

He said nothing, but remained there, sprawled carelessly on the bench, his foot braced against the door handle.

”My lord-”

”Appease my curiosity, will you? Why did you cut me?” he asked idly. ”Have I harmed you in some way? Displeased you? Ignored you?”

Ava opened her mouth to a.s.sure him he had not, but she was struck with the notion that he was, incredibly, wounded by her refusal. Lord Middleton, who had scads of women flinging themselves at his coattails whenever he walked by, was wounded because she had refused to dance with him.

She wanted to savor that thought, but the coach was picking up speed, and suddenly all she could think of was what Greer had said about him. She lunged again for the door, but Middleton steadfastly refused to move his boot. ”Do you intend to jump from a moving carriage?”

”If I must,” she said firmly. ”I am to be in Lady Purnam's carriage.”

”First you refuse to stand up with me before the ton, and now you would jump from a moving carriage.

Lady Ava, I am beginning to believe you do not esteem my good company.”

”I do not know you, my lord, so I have no opinion of your company, either good or bad. This is not what you must think.”

”No? Then what exactly is it?”