Page 4 of The Christmas Ball
“Tell me, sir,” she said, looking the gentleman right in the eye, “who are you and what are you doing skulking about the Duke of Beckford’s estate?”
He frowned, clearly taken aback. “I was notskulking. I was riding to pay a call upon the duke.”
“An unannounced call,” she said sharply.
“I found myself in the neighborhood.” His mouth firmed, and he strode over to take the reins of his horse.
His boots squelched with every step, and Viola couldn’t help a flash of satisfaction at the sound. Let the man endure even the smallest measure of her own discomposure. This entire thing was his fault, after all.
“Shall we?” He inclined his head and clucked for his horse to begin walking. “It appears your companions are coming to meet us.”
Mena and the maid were partway around the pond, though they were making slow progress, what with the duchess still wrapped in the quilt and Dorothy burdened with their gowns, corsets, and petticoats.
“You did not tell me who you are,” Viola said, trying to be careful about where she set her feet. Bramble thickets extended to the water ahead, and she was not particularly fond of thorns.
The man at her side paused and made her a bow, very elegant despite the wet linen shirt plastered to his chest. “Grayson Tate, Marquess of Winslow and your new neighbor, at your service.”
“Ah. Lord Winslow.”
Her thoughts scrambled furiously. This was not some country gentleman out for a ride, but one of the upper members of the nobility. There’d been rumors that a member of thetonwas considering buying the adjoining estate of Westbrook. It was a neglected place, with overgrown fields and a manor house in need of repair, so Viola hadn’t given the gossip much credence.
Though clearly she ought to have.
In her confusion, she took an unwary step and trod on a trailing length of bramble.
“Blast,” she said sharply, jerking her foot up and nearly overbalancing.
Lord Winslow immediately took her by the shoulders, steadying her while she bent to pluck the thin thorns from her sole. To his credit, he did not remark upon her unladylike use of language.
“Perhaps we should ride, instead,” he said, when she’d finished. “My apologies for forgetting you were unshod.”
“Since you were carefully not looking below my neck, I suppose I can forgive the oversight,” she said, the aftermath of pain making her forthright.
He choked back a sound that might have been a laugh, or a protest.
“Nevertheless. Ride? Or I can carry you.”
“You’ve done quite enough of that.” Again, she felt her cheeks heat, recalling the feel of his strong arms around her. “Besides, my companions are nearly here.”
She waved at Mena and Dorothy, who’d swung wide to avoid the thicket and were within hailing distance. Mena had donned her boots, which stuck out incongruously beneath the hem of her shift, and she clutched the quilt about her like an oversized cloak. Viola envied her that concealment, no matter how hot and cumbersome it might be.
Lord Winslow’s coat was barely adequate to the task, gaping at the neck and only reaching to her mid-thigh. She felt quite undressed—which, in all honesty, she was.
“Are you all right?” Mena called, hurrying forward.
“Perfectly well,” Viola replied tartly, letting her temper cover her embarrassment. “Except for being so rudely hauled from the pond in an unnecessary and misguided rescue attempt.”
“I did hear screaming,” Lord Winslow said under his breath.
“And stepping barefoot on a bramble,” she added, ignoring his comment.
The worst of it, of course, was the utter shame of appearing all-but-naked in front of the Marquess of Winslow. Half of her wanted to squirm down into the earth and disappear, like a lowly worm, but she clung to her righteous anger, letting it shield her from the worst of the indignity.
There would be time, later, to cringe and wallow. And, just perhaps, muse upon the well-muscled form of Lord Winslow…
“We must get you home,” Mena said, then glanced at Viola’s would-be rescuer. “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of your acquaintance, sir.”
“Lord Grayson Tate, Marquess of Winslow.” He made her a flawless bow, and Viola couldn’t help watching the flex of his back muscles.
