one swallow.
Two weeks had passed since he’d last seen her, and the time seemed like two months. Or even two years. He’d thought of her more times than he could count every one of those days, wondering what she was doing. Whether or not she’d had to pawn more of her mother’s jewels. How much longer she could go on before she had no more jewels to pawn, or the jewels that were left didn’t give her enough money and she had to resort to something else for money.
A cold rush of unease washed over him. If—and when—she ran out of jewels, he knew to what she’d resort for the money she needed—her luck at cards.
He was fairly certain she’d kept her word and hadn’t gone back to The Dove . So far, at least. He’d gone there several times since he’d forced her to promise she’d stay away from the gambling hell, and hadn’t seen anyone who even resembled her yet. No one had that same hair, with streaks of gold and reds the candlelight illuminated as they nestled among the darker locks. No one with her same natural style and grace.
Nick shifted his gaze to where her dance partner had escorted her after the dance, but she was no longer there. Nick quickly scanned the area, and saw her just as she exited through a side door of the ballroom.
It wasn’t a door that led to the card room, where he’d just been, but to the portrait gallery, where the Hagarty ancestors hung in all their glory.
There was nothing exceptional about the long gallery, except that it provided a place where someone who didn’t want to spend time mingling and conversing, could escape to be alone. Nick gave Winnie enough time to be alone for a moment, then he followed her.
The long gallery wasn’t completely dark, but neither was it as brightly lit as the ballroom. Several decorative candles sat in holders on the walls between the portraits, giving the room a shadowy, almost romantic, appeal. Lady Winnifred stood at the other end of the long room, as still and unmoving as the people whose images had been painted in the portraits.
For several moments, Nick remained in the shadows and simply watched her. He didn’t want her to know he was there, but wanted to observe her.
He should have known that wouldn’t be possible for an extended length of time. It never took her long to know when he was near, just as he always sensed when she was close.
She turned and watched him as he approached her.
“Have you chosen to escape the throngs of suitors who clamor for a dance by fleeing to a place where no one will look for you?”
She lowered her gaze to the floor, but there was a smile on her face, although it was a weak smile. “The throng of noblemen wanting to dance are not suitors. They are friends of Lord Montroy, who my sister and her soon-to-be intended have coerced into partnering me. My sister is head over ears in love with Lord Montroy, and believes everyone in the world should enjoy such bliss.”
“And that includes her sister?”
“That especially includes her sister.”
“And you are not interested in finding that perfect male with whom you can settle into wedded bliss? Or have you already found him and he is not one of those begging for a dance?”
“No, Mr. Stillman. I am not interested in finding a man, perfect or not, who can control my every thought, word, and pound.”
“Oh, such a cynical view of marriage you have,” he said, unable to stifle a laugh.
“I simply prefer my independence, as well as my freedom.”
“Were I in your shoes, I would be loath to give up my freedom, too.”
Nick was surprised by the lift of her eyebrows. He’d surprised her. He held out his arm for her to take. “Would you care to stroll the gallery and peruse Lord Hagarty’s illustrious ancestors?”
Lady Winnifred hesitated, then placed her fingers on his arm.
“I’m surprised to see that you are here again tonight,” she said. “For someone who claims to dislike Society events, you have attended several in the past
Two weeks had passed since he’d last seen her, and the time seemed like two months. Or even two years. He’d thought of her more times than he could count every one of those days, wondering what she was doing. Whether or not she’d had to pawn more of her mother’s jewels. How much longer she could go on before she had no more jewels to pawn, or the jewels that were left didn’t give her enough money and she had to resort to something else for money.
A cold rush of unease washed over him. If—and when—she ran out of jewels, he knew to what she’d resort for the money she needed—her luck at cards.
He was fairly certain she’d kept her word and hadn’t gone back to The Dove . So far, at least. He’d gone there several times since he’d forced her to promise she’d stay away from the gambling hell, and hadn’t seen anyone who even resembled her yet. No one had that same hair, with streaks of gold and reds the candlelight illuminated as they nestled among the darker locks. No one with her same natural style and grace.
Nick shifted his gaze to where her dance partner had escorted her after the dance, but she was no longer there. Nick quickly scanned the area, and saw her just as she exited through a side door of the ballroom.
It wasn’t a door that led to the card room, where he’d just been, but to the portrait gallery, where the Hagarty ancestors hung in all their glory.
There was nothing exceptional about the long gallery, except that it provided a place where someone who didn’t want to spend time mingling and conversing, could escape to be alone. Nick gave Winnie enough time to be alone for a moment, then he followed her.
The long gallery wasn’t completely dark, but neither was it as brightly lit as the ballroom. Several decorative candles sat in holders on the walls between the portraits, giving the room a shadowy, almost romantic, appeal. Lady Winnifred stood at the other end of the long room, as still and unmoving as the people whose images had been painted in the portraits.
For several moments, Nick remained in the shadows and simply watched her. He didn’t want her to know he was there, but wanted to observe her.
He should have known that wouldn’t be possible for an extended length of time. It never took her long to know when he was near, just as he always sensed when she was close.
She turned and watched him as he approached her.
“Have you chosen to escape the throngs of suitors who clamor for a dance by fleeing to a place where no one will look for you?”
She lowered her gaze to the floor, but there was a smile on her face, although it was a weak smile. “The throng of noblemen wanting to dance are not suitors. They are friends of Lord Montroy, who my sister and her soon-to-be intended have coerced into partnering me. My sister is head over ears in love with Lord Montroy, and believes everyone in the world should enjoy such bliss.”
“And that includes her sister?”
“That especially includes her sister.”
“And you are not interested in finding that perfect male with whom you can settle into wedded bliss? Or have you already found him and he is not one of those begging for a dance?”
“No, Mr. Stillman. I am not interested in finding a man, perfect or not, who can control my every thought, word, and pound.”
“Oh, such a cynical view of marriage you have,” he said, unable to stifle a laugh.
“I simply prefer my independence, as well as my freedom.”
“Were I in your shoes, I would be loath to give up my freedom, too.”
Nick was surprised by the lift of her eyebrows. He’d surprised her. He held out his arm for her to take. “Would you care to stroll the gallery and peruse Lord Hagarty’s illustrious ancestors?”
Lady Winnifred hesitated, then placed her fingers on his arm.
“I’m surprised to see that you are here again tonight,” she said. “For someone who claims to dislike Society events, you have attended several in the past
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