Page 7 of The Forbidden Lord
She toyed with the velvet cord on her reticule, then brightened. “What if you bring me to the edge of the gardens? I can slip in there and emerge into the ballroom as if I’d been walking outside the whole time. Then I needn’t lie. If you stay out a while longer, then come in with your tale about going for a ride alone, we might pull it off.”
“In other words, you won’t lie, but you don’t mind forcingmeto.”
“I’m sorry,” she said in obvious chagrin. “You’re right, it’s very bad of me to?—”
“It’s all right.” He tamped down on the laugh bubbling up in his throat. Devil take it, he’d never met a woman so principled. Nor could he remember ever having so much fun with one. “Believe me, I wouldn’t hesitate to tell a fib to save your reputation.”
A wan smile touched her lips. “Thank you.”
He knocked on the ceiling, then ordered Watkins to drive back to the gardens. While the servant maneuvered the coach about, Jordan returned his attention to Miss Fairchild.
She was staring out the window. Her bombazine gown was so black it swallowed up whatever faint light the moon shone on it, leaving her hands and her face to reflect the moon’s glow.
And what a face, all soft curves and secrets. If only he could see more, could rip the mask off and get a good look at her. What he could see was exquisite. Her brow, so high and moonlight pale … fine rounded cheeks ... generous lips. Her hair looked like spun silk even inside the dark carriage and?—
What had come over him? He was waxing poetic, something he never did, and certainly shouldn’t with the prim little Miss Fairchild. He mustn’t eventhinkof her in those terms. She wasn’t his sort at all.
Suddenly, she met his gaze. “Lord Blackmore, I really must apologize for getting you into this mess.”
“No,” he said, waving his hand dismissively, “it was an honest mistake on both our parts. With any luck, no one will ever know it happened.”
“And if they do?”
She was asking if she could trust him to make it right. Suddenly, he wanted very badly to reassure her of his character. “I would do what must be done, Miss Fairchild. Don’t concern yourself about that.”
“I wouldn’t expect you to marry me,” she hastened to say, “but if you could make up some story or … or …”
“I’ll do what needs to be done, don’t you worry,” he said, more firmly. Some story, indeed. As if any story could safely extricate them from this. “But we won’t be found out. I’ve successfully wriggled out of far more compromising situations.”
“I’m sure you have.”
He smiled at her arch tone. He wished she weren’t wearing that damned mask. Though the moon graced her figure with silvery light, he could only discern a little of her expression. It bothered him that she could see his face, but he couldn’t see hers.
“Still,” she added, “if there’s any way I can make up for my error?—”
“There is one way,” he said, the dangerous words out of his mouth before he could stop them. “You could let me see you without the mask.”
Chapter Two
“I met a lady in the meads
Full beautiful, a faery’s child
Her hair was long, her foot was light
And her eyes were wild.”
— JOHN KEATS, “LA BELLE DAME SANS MERCI”
Emily stared at Lord Blackmore blankly. “I beg your pardon?”
“You have me at a disadvantage—you’re masked and I’m not.” His voice was husky and deep within the close confines of the carriage. “I’d like to see you without your mask. Do you mind?”
She hesitated only briefly before lifting her hands to the ties. “No, of course not.” It was a small enough thing to give him, and hehadbeen a perfect gentleman once they’d sorted everything out.
Besides, simple logic told her he’d had every reason to misunderstand the situation. No doubt he was often pursued by silly girls eager to snag a rich earl. How could she blame a manas wealthy and powerful as he for being cautious? The least she could do was show him her face.
Ifshe could release the ties. Goodness gracious, they were knotted. She couldn’t even pull the blessed thing over her head. It would dislodge her coiffure. If she entered the ball with her hair in complete disarray, people would suspect something had happened. “I’m sorry, but it won’t come loose. It’s knotted.”
