Page 6 of The Secret to Swooning
“What did you say?” Lady Catherine demanded.
“Only thate’s always elevate names. I’m considering adding another to mine.”
“I recommend against it. You’ll have too many then.” Lady Catherine turned her attention back to Ann. “For those with less talent, looks, and standing than myself and my daughter, economy in naming is a commendable impulse.”
Ann’s mother looked about the room. “Is your daughter here today? Will we have the honor of meeting her?”
Lady Catherine jerked her chin higher. “She is too refined and gentile to suffer the oppression of such a crush. She is resting in her rooms.”
“I’m convinced she does not exist.” Another whisper fell upon Ann’s ear. “A terrible creature, if she’s real.”
She stifled a laugh, covered her mouth with her hand.
Ann’s mother wrapped a hand around her arm. “It is charming to see you again, Lady Catherine, but there are many here that envy your company, and we will not deny them.”
Lady Catherine waved them away, and Ann’s mother pulled her into the crowd.
Dartmore’s smile vanished. The smile blooming in Ann’s own chest vanished, too. She’d never questioned leaving him before, had always known where her heart wanted to be but trudged away from it—from him, nonetheless—to win her parents’ approval, to be the perfect lady.
But now… when she knew he wanted her back… she could not look away, and her body ached to return to him, blast the consequences. His brows pulled low over storm-crackling eyes. She’d seen him look like that at her only once before—when she’d kissed him to make another man jealous. Anger. Passionate rage. She’d hurt him, perhaps, but she’d hurt herself, too. Because the man she’d been trying to evoke jealousy in had never noticed, and after that, she’d viewed Lord Dartmore in an entirely different way. She longed for the passion in his eyes, but not passionate anger. Passionate desire.
Her mother dragged her toward a group. “There. Lord Dunnington. Perfection.”
Ann ripped her gaze from Dartmore to look where her mother bid. Lord Dunnington had perfect posture, perfectly fashionable hair, and a perfectly pleasant face. No hint of an improperly wicked smile.
Her heart sank. Her feet turned to lead.
“He’s desperate for a wife,” her mother said. “I’ll place you on his right. You know what to do after that.”
Ann nodded. Swoon. And win herself a husband. And a new set of chains to squeeze her tight.
In Which Everette Proves Quick
If Ann stood any closer to Lord Dunnington, she’d be in his lap. And if that happened, Everette would have to find a sword and put it through the man’s gullet, which Lady Catherine certainly wouldnotlike.
“Cousin, you might want to stop growling,” Tobias said.
“I’m not growling,” Everette growled.
“Go get her, pull her into the garden… or better yet an empty room with a soft surface, and tell her what you came to say. Not sure how? I’ll help you. How about… ‘In vain have I struggled. It will not—’”
“Shut it, Tobias. Does she look faint?”
Tobias narrowed his eyes in Ann’s direction. “She’s swaying a bit. Why is she swaying? Does she often do that?”
“Her color is high.”
“Red as an apple. And you’ve not even yet told her how ardently you admire—”
Everette gripped Tobias’s arm, every muscle turning to steel. “She’s fainting.” He bolted, pushing who knew what important man to the side, sliding through a conversation between two highly affronted women, bumping the odious and stringy LordDunnington out of the way, and catching Ann right before she fell to the floor in an ungraceful heap.
With his left arm, he held her tight to his chest. He wrapped his right arm around the other side of her, and though he supported her upper body with every muscle in his body, her legs, heavy and limp, threatened to drag him to the floor with her.
Her face scrunched up. Was she in pain?
“Ann,” he grunted. “Ann. Are you conscious?”
Her face smoothed out, and some sound—like a door with creaky hinges but slightly more articulate—groaned from between her lips.
