Page 135 of Ten Lords for the Holidays

“My lady?”

Holly squealed as a voice sounded right in her ear.

Spinning around in fright, her hand knocked against a glass of ratafia that Mr. Winchester was holding out to her.

It fell to the ground with a thud, smashing on the flagstone floor and spraying her with liquid and splinters of glass.

“My lady,” Mr. Winchester gasped. “I-I’m so sorry. I didn’t –“

His stuttered apologies were drowned out by cries of concern as people crowded her, fussing at her and making a far bigger to-do than the situation warranted.

She looked up from the clucking crowd, her eyes scanning the ballroom for Grandmama or her father. Neither were in sight, however.

She spotted Lady Angela across the room, who took in the scene before her, her expression unreadable.

Instead of hurrying over to join the fray, Lady Angela turned and glided toward the room where some gentlemen had gone to play cards and smoke cheroots.

She didn’t enter, of course. And didn’t speak. Merely stood in front of the door for a moment before gliding right by it.

Someone pulled at Holly’s gown, distracting her from Angela, and she looked down to see Mr. Winchester crouched before her in full view of the entire room.

“Mr. Winchester,” Holly gasped. “Please, you really mustn’t –“

“What’s going on? What happened?”

Holly snapped her head back up at the commanding, masculine voice.

Lord Stockton was looming over the crowd, his golden gaze fierce in the candlelight.

As though he’d commanded it, the small crowd parted until there was only Holly and the ridiculous Mr. Winchester uselessly wiping her skirts.

“Are you hurt?”

He didn’t acknowledge anyone else. Not even the fully grown man crouched in front of her, and Holly found she couldn’t speak past the sudden lump in her throat.

Shaking her head, she could only stare at him.

She saw the relief in his eyes before they snapped to Mr. Winchester, and his concern turned to consternation.

“What are you doing, man?” he barked. “Get up and step away from the lady’s skirts.”

Oh, heavens,Holly thought.Grandmama will have an apoplexy.

“I-I didn’t – I hadn’t –“

Holly felt a pang of sympathy as Mr. Winchester jumped to his feet, his face paling in the face of Lord Stockton’s ire.

“The glass. It smashed, and L-Lady Holly’s skirt was quite ruined so –“

Once again, Lord Stockton’s eyes darted to her.

“You are hurt,” he said softly.

“No, I’m not,” she answered, embarrassment at the fuss making her voice sharper than she’d intended. “Like I said,” she finished a little cattily.

“Well, that tongue isn’t anyway.”

He spoke softly so that only Holly could hear, and her mouth popped open at his audaciousness.

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