glass door and exited
into the brisk night.
Insects chirped, but the sound did not soothe her. A garden beckoned below, looking
blessedly empty of partygoers. She heeded its call, wandering down its winding path
into a profusion of spring flowers, pungent but unidentifiable in the near dark. Upon
finding a bench, Kira plopped down onto it and covered her face with her hands.
Oh, she’d handled that very badly. James was likely right; she should have turned
the other cheek. But she’d been unable to hear so many false aspersion s cast upon her character day after day, from her neighbors back in Suffolk, from Mrs.
Baycliffe and Mrs. Howland. And worst of all, from the duke himself. She’d had far
more than she could stomach, and tonight she had refused to pretend she did not hear or that their slurs did not bother her.
Tears came, and she let them cascade in hot tracks down her cheeks. Tonight she would
hurt; tomorrow she would rise again and find a way to overcome the injustice of Lord
Vance’s lies and her Persian blood…somehow.
* * * *
Gavin watched Kira stumble away from the party toward the Baycliffe’s garden. He made
his way to the door. James followed close behind.
He tried not to be angry that Lady Becker voiced the thought of nearly every guest
at the party. But he was. Damned angry. Now that everyone knew Kira to be James’s
fiancée, such confrontations reflected badly on the family. Kira’s outburst had not
helped matters either.
Still, what had infuriated him most was the hurt on her expressive face.
Reaching for the door, Gavin decided he was an idiot. Likely Miss Melbourne was every
bit as wanton as Lady Becker exclaimed to everyone in the card room—he knew that.
Still, he remembered from boyhood how he’d felt when he had been ridiculed for his
father’s behavior.
It would not do, however, to develop sympathy for the enemy. His aunt had received
a chilly reception from her neighbors tonight, all because of Kira Melbourne. He must
concentrate on that fact , as well as the actions necessary to rid her from Norfield Park and their lives.
“Gavin, why are you hesitating?” James demanded. “If you’ve no intent to go outside
and comfort Miss Melbourne, then step aside and allow me to do so.”
Comforting the beauty would only encourage her to stay. That he could not allow.
“James, I should go out alone. Consider that if you, her fiancé, venture to the garden
alone to speak with her, there will only be more talk. I can fetch her back to the
coach if you’ll have it brought `round and collect your mother, and we can be gone
in under a quarter hour. Agreed?”
His cousin hesitated with good reason: his argument had no sound logic. Gavin felt
certain tongues would likely wag even more if he spent time alone with Kira Melbourne
in the garden.
But he had a purpose other than to comfort her. He must seize every advantage to see
her gone.
“If—if you think so.” James shrugged, looking undecided.
“Indeed, I do. Find Aunt Caroline.”
Before James could say anything else, Gavin stepped outside and followed the meandering
path framed by a profusion of greenery and blossoms, into the heart of the garden
that was Mrs. Baycliffe’s pride and joy.
He tread quietly, listening for sounds of Kira’s whereabouts. It didn’t take long
before he heard a sob, followed by a sniffle.
Another few steps brought him to the wrought iron bench beside a half-naked statue
of Cupid. There, Kira sat alone.
The clouds above parted and moonlight suddenly rained down on her in silvery light.
She seemed to glow with radiance. As usual, his blood rushed fiercely south. But when
he saw her shoulders shaking, again heard her cry, something in his stomach tightened.
Gavin swore he could hear the loneliness in her tears.
He swallowed, appalled by his hesitation. He was here to take advantage of Kira in
a vulnerable moment, persuade her that
into the brisk night.
Insects chirped, but the sound did not soothe her. A garden beckoned below, looking
blessedly empty of partygoers. She heeded its call, wandering down its winding path
into a profusion of spring flowers, pungent but unidentifiable in the near dark. Upon
finding a bench, Kira plopped down onto it and covered her face with her hands.
Oh, she’d handled that very badly. James was likely right; she should have turned
the other cheek. But she’d been unable to hear so many false aspersion s cast upon her character day after day, from her neighbors back in Suffolk, from Mrs.
Baycliffe and Mrs. Howland. And worst of all, from the duke himself. She’d had far
more than she could stomach, and tonight she had refused to pretend she did not hear or that their slurs did not bother her.
Tears came, and she let them cascade in hot tracks down her cheeks. Tonight she would
hurt; tomorrow she would rise again and find a way to overcome the injustice of Lord
Vance’s lies and her Persian blood…somehow.
* * * *
Gavin watched Kira stumble away from the party toward the Baycliffe’s garden. He made
his way to the door. James followed close behind.
He tried not to be angry that Lady Becker voiced the thought of nearly every guest
at the party. But he was. Damned angry. Now that everyone knew Kira to be James’s
fiancée, such confrontations reflected badly on the family. Kira’s outburst had not
helped matters either.
Still, what had infuriated him most was the hurt on her expressive face.
Reaching for the door, Gavin decided he was an idiot. Likely Miss Melbourne was every
bit as wanton as Lady Becker exclaimed to everyone in the card room—he knew that.
Still, he remembered from boyhood how he’d felt when he had been ridiculed for his
father’s behavior.
It would not do, however, to develop sympathy for the enemy. His aunt had received
a chilly reception from her neighbors tonight, all because of Kira Melbourne. He must
concentrate on that fact , as well as the actions necessary to rid her from Norfield Park and their lives.
“Gavin, why are you hesitating?” James demanded. “If you’ve no intent to go outside
and comfort Miss Melbourne, then step aside and allow me to do so.”
Comforting the beauty would only encourage her to stay. That he could not allow.
“James, I should go out alone. Consider that if you, her fiancé, venture to the garden
alone to speak with her, there will only be more talk. I can fetch her back to the
coach if you’ll have it brought `round and collect your mother, and we can be gone
in under a quarter hour. Agreed?”
His cousin hesitated with good reason: his argument had no sound logic. Gavin felt
certain tongues would likely wag even more if he spent time alone with Kira Melbourne
in the garden.
But he had a purpose other than to comfort her. He must seize every advantage to see
her gone.
“If—if you think so.” James shrugged, looking undecided.
“Indeed, I do. Find Aunt Caroline.”
Before James could say anything else, Gavin stepped outside and followed the meandering
path framed by a profusion of greenery and blossoms, into the heart of the garden
that was Mrs. Baycliffe’s pride and joy.
He tread quietly, listening for sounds of Kira’s whereabouts. It didn’t take long
before he heard a sob, followed by a sniffle.
Another few steps brought him to the wrought iron bench beside a half-naked statue
of Cupid. There, Kira sat alone.
The clouds above parted and moonlight suddenly rained down on her in silvery light.
She seemed to glow with radiance. As usual, his blood rushed fiercely south. But when
he saw her shoulders shaking, again heard her cry, something in his stomach tightened.
Gavin swore he could hear the loneliness in her tears.
He swallowed, appalled by his hesitation. He was here to take advantage of Kira in
a vulnerable moment, persuade her that
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