Page 70 of The MacGregor's Lady
“We should not be in here.”
The very feebleness of Hannah’s protest made him furious.
“You should not be in that damned corset.” Had he been wearing boots, a knife would have been immediately at hand. He had to rummage in the desk drawer for a penknife, though the one he found was blessedly sharp.
He hauled her to a sitting position. “Hold still, Hannah Cooper, lest I turn you over my knee. You don’t need a husband, you need a warden.”
He undid a few hooks down the back of her gown, then ripped the damned thing apart, haste his only goal. When he’d tucked her dress aside, he sliced through the lacings of her stays in one careful pass of the knife. They parted on a rush of Hannah’s indrawn breath.
“Thank you.” She lay back, nearly panting, her chest rising and falling in its newfound liberty. “It’s the ball gowns, I think.”
“Don’t think, just breathe.” He sat at her hip and smoothed her hair back from her forehead, then laid the back of his hand against her brow. She was cool rather than warm, and when he tugged her glove off to take her pulse, her fingers were cool as well.
Without bothering to consult his watch, he could tell her heartbeat was rapid and her pulse thready.
“I’m taking you home, Hannah. You’ve laced yourself into a swoon, and considering you aren’t even pretending to look for a husband, all this waltzing and smiling is serving no purpose anyway.”
She stopped him from escalating into a tirade by pushing his hair off his forehead with one cool hand. “You’re to look for a bride. You promised.”
Her reminder was gentle, rueful even. Her fingers slipped around to trace the rim of his ear, and all thought, all sense, and certainly any tirades went flying from Asher’s mind. The incongruity of her words—he was to be finding a bride—with her touch, which was intimate, dear, and arousing—brought his thoughts to a grand pause.
“Hannah…” He removed her hand from his person, and instead brought her knuckles to his lips. “We can argue about that later. I’m going to call for the carriage and have Augusta and Ian make your excuses.”
“You can’t.” She was trying to sit up, so Asher did not dare attempt to touch her, not with her bodice gaping open and the imprint of her stays visible on parts of her Asher could not stop staring at. Thank God for her chemise, for it was the only thing between Asher and a complete loss of sanity.
He made himself leave the sofa and located a carafe on a gate-legged table against the wall. For himself, he poured a tot of whatever spirits were in the decanter; for Hannah he poured a glass of water.
Of course, there were some who believed London’s water supply was responsible for various deadly epidemics. Asher set the water glass down and poured out another tot of spirits.
“It’s whiskey,” he said, returning to the couch and passing Hannah the glass. “Sip it slowly. When was the last time you ate?”
She barely wet her lips at the rim of the glass. “I eat. It’s the oddest thing. The dresses I’ve brought with me, like my riding habit, are looser on me, but the dresses I ordered here require me to lace up very tightly. I didn’t request that they be made that way.”
She looked at him inquiringly.
“For God’s sake, I wouldn’t meddle with your wardrobe.” Except he had, with her dancing slipper, in any case. Hannah’s rejoinder was lost when the door was swept open, bringing light, noise, and a knot of people into the room.
“My goodness—!” Lady Alcincoate’s gloved hand went to the vast, jiggling expanse above her décolletage. “My lord, whatever—”
Malcolm crowded in at Lady Alcincoate’s side, and thank God and all his winged angels, Augusta flanked their hostess on the other side. Augusta’s height meant the two women behind her had to crane their necks to peer into the darkened library.
“Miss Cooper fainted,” Asher said, and because this pronouncement met with nothing but silence, he added, “I was concerned for her.”
Hannah was for once exhibiting some cooperation and remaining tucked out of sight on the sofa, but the silence lengthened. Augusta pushed past the gaping Lady Alcincoate and grabbed an afghan from the back of a reading chair. “Late nights will catch up with us. I suppose you’ll be wanting the carriage.”
Augusta had the blanket tucked over Hannah in moments, hiding the damage to her dress. Lady Alcincoate advanced into the room, her acolytes coming with her, and all three women wearing looks of gleeful expectation.
“If the young lady was feeling light-headed, my lord, surely escorting her off the dance floor, finding her a seat and a glass of punch would have sufficed.”
Wemustnotbeprivate.“She was not light-headed,” Asher said, feeling the beginnings of temper. “She was cool to the touch, short of breath, vertiginous, and unless I miss my guess, suffering diminution of the faculties of hearing and sight.”
“Diminution—?” Four syllables didn’t stop the lady for long. She planted her hands on her cinched-in waist, making her look like a large, indignant insect. “If there was a diminution of senses going on, as opposed to a diminution ofsense, my lord, then one calls a physician. One does not escort a young lady to a darkened library and allow her to be found reclining with—unless I missmyguess—a glass of strong spirits at hand.”
The triumph in her voice was that of a hostess presiding at the birth of a scandal. One of the other ladies spoke up; her tone was sweetly snide. “Perhaps we ought to fetch a physician, now?”
“Oh, for pity’s sake.” Augusta rose from the sofa to her full height. “Lord Balfourisa physician, having gained his credentials at St. Andrews years ago. He was in practice in Canada and is certainly capable of dealing with one young lady’s case of the vapors. Further delay while some local fellow is roused from his slumbers is hardly in order. If Lord Balfour, who is charged with Miss Cooper’s well-being, says she needs to be taken home now, surely a gracious hostess would be calling for her guest’s carriage?”
Asher had never been more grateful for an English sister-in-law. The look of disdain Augusta cast down the length of her nose at the other three women was worthy of Mrs. Siddons, and Malcolm did not miss his cue.
