Page 6 of The Forbidden Lord
“I believe you.” Even he, with his cynical view of the world, couldn’t believe that a woman could quote scripture and plot against him at the same time. Glancing away, he grumbled, “Clearly, you’re not ... the sort of woman I took you for.”
“I should think not,” she said loftily.
Gritting his teeth, he added, “I’m sorry I offended you.”
There was a long, chilly silence from the other end of the carriage. Good God, he’d made a horrible mistake. He would have recognized it earlier, but he’d been so furious at being caught in this devilish position that he hadn’t been thinking. Obviously, if she’d been trying to trap him, she wouldn’t have told him so soon of her error. She would have tried enticing him to compromise her.
But she’d done none of that. What’s more, he’d just insulted her beyond countenance. He shot her a glance, wondering what she was thinking.
She watched him with all the wariness of a cornered deer. “So you admit I was not trying to trick you?”
“Yes.”
“You acknowledge that you were entirely in the wrong?”
“Yes, yes, deuce take it!”
She sniffed and drew herself up. “You needn’t curse at me.”
“Now you’re correcting my language, for God’s sake.” He sighed. “You’re as pernicious as my stepsister. She bedevils me until I admit I’m wrong. And she, too, corrects my language and quotes scripture in an attempt to make me mend my ways.”
“Then she must spend a great deal of time correcting your language and memorizing scripture.”
He couldn’t help laughing. “Indeed she does.” The girl had a spine, he’d give her that. No woman but Sara ever dared to criticize him to his face, although many undoubtedly did behind his back.
This rector’s daughter was an intriguing little thing. Not a simpering, foolish bone in her body, unlike most of the young women foisted upon him these days. Was she pretty as well behind that mask? The rest of her certainly looked promising.
Good God, what was he thinking? She was a virgin. “A rector’s daughter quoting scripture,” he said, trying to fix the thought in his head. “I’ve truly caught myself an innocent, haven’t I?”
“Yes.” She smoothed her skirts primly. “Now you must throw me back.”
“Indeed I must.” But he made no move to order his coachman to turn the carriage around. First they must consider the potential problems arising from his fatal error. “Tell me something, Miss … Miss …”
“Fairchild,” she supplied.
He groaned. “Even your name cries out purity and innocence.” As the carriage rumbled on, he crossed his arms over his chest. “How shall I get you back to the ball without ruining your reputation? If your cousin is looking for you, he’s liable to be standing on the doorstep when we return.”
A troubled frown marred her pretty brow. “Oh, dear, you’re right. Even if he doesn’t know I’ve left the ballroom, there are the servants. They saw us leave together.”
“You needn’t worry about that. I paid them well to keep our departure secret.” When she cast him a look of outrage, he shrugged. “I don’t like having my private affairs bandied about the country. They won’t speak of this to anyone, I assure you. Nonetheless, someone else may have seen us leave together. And if we return together...”
She slumped against the seat. “That’s true. You aren’t exactly inconspicuous.”
No one had ever put it quite like that before. He smiled. “I’m afraid not. Believe me, at the moment, I wish I were.”
Several people were sure to have noted that she’d walked out of the ballroom with the Earl of Blackmore. And when she didn’t return for some time, then entered with him...
He grimaced. She hadn’t needed to set a trap. The result would be the same. All it required was one person standing in the entrance. Then everyone would know she’d been off in a carriage with an earl notorious for his encounters with unsavory women, and she’d be ruined for certain.
He didn’t want to ruin her. He had this profound urge not to hurt her, and he didn’t know why. Because she was so completely innocent? Or because she’d defended him with no reason but the principle of the matter?
There was a sudden thumping from his coachman above. Then Watkins said, his voice muffled by the carriage roof, “We’re approachin’ the main road, milord. Where to?”
“Halt here for a moment, Watkins.” Jordan cast her a searching glance. “Well, Miss Fairchild, what do we do? I could take you home, then come back and pretend I’d been out alone. But you’d have to brazen it out later, tell some lie for how you got home and why you left without your escort.”
“I do not tell lies, Lord Blackmore,” she said stiffly. “It isn’t in my nature.”
He bit back a smile. “I see. Then perhaps you have some plan for reentering the ballroom without being noticed?”
