Page 55 of A Damsel for the Wounded Earl
She twisted in her mother’s arms, seeing Arthur standing on the dance floor, a strange look in his eyes as she was pulled away from him. Lord Vincent was shifting from foot to foot, glancing around uncertainly.
There was one thing Felicity was entirely sure of – two things, in fact.
One, Lord Vincent hadnotpushed her to safety. He’d ran as soon as he heard the creaking of the chandelier ropes.
Two, Arthur’s expression had meant something, she knew it. It had to mean something.
Perhaps he has feelings for me,Felicity thought, heart pounding as her mother dragged her away.I have to speak to him. I simply must.
***
Arthur got shakily to his feet, watching Felicity’s parents bear her away through the crowd. He couldn’t blame them. An accident like this would be talked about for years to come, if not decades. People could have been killed, or at least hurt.
As far as he could tell, nobodyhadbeen hurt, which was nothing short of a miracle. Lucy and Beatrice were herding people out of the ballroom, promising rejuvenating cups of tea and refreshments to help them recover, while their carriages were called for. Most people did not need to be told to leave the ballroom, and were already flocking through the hallways, talking loudly and breathlessly.
The room emptied, aside from the frantic footmen trying to clean up the mess, and Arthur found himself more or less alone.
What happened here? That chandelier has been there for decades. Why break now?
He circled the ruined chandelier, looking for clues. The ropes and chains that held it in place seemed in good condition, with no rust-spots or signs of wear. Besides, that was something that would have been thoroughly checked when the chandelier was taken down and cleaned.
Glancing around, he was able to trace one of the ropes which held it in place. The rope snaked along the floor, loose where it should have been taut, connected to a secure anchor point. He followed it, eyeing the thick rope. No signs of fraying, or… He paused, coming to the end of the rope.
Crouching down, Arthur picked up the rope and eyed the ends.
Cut,he thought wildly.It’s been cut.
Whoever had damaged the rope had been extremely careful. Cutting the rope all the way through would have brought the chandelier crashing down almost at once, and it would have been impossible to cut through the rope in the middle of a ball. One of the footmen was on duty near the place where the ropes were attached, which was kept discreetly curtained and away from the where the guests would circulate. He swore that nobody had approached, and Arthur believed him.
No, this seemed like somebody had cut halfway through the rope, leaving the rest to gradually fray and break under the pressure, estimating that it would come crashing down sometime during the dancing. The party was ruined, of course, and their house guests, the Thornhills, seemed keener than ever to get away at once. Not that Arthur could blame them.
Who would do this? Who would do something so dangerous?
Footsteps approached, and Arthur stilled. By now, he was alone in the ballroom, having followed the ropes to a curtained-off alcove, the curtain half pulled across.
He almost knew who would be there before she stepped into the alcove with him.
“I’m so glad you are safe, Arthur,” Miranda said, her voice hushed. “I was afraid you’d been hurt.”
“No, I am quite well, Miss Sinclair,” he said, smiling uncomfortably and hiding the half cut, half frayed rope behind his back.
“A terrible accident, was it not?”
He bit his lip. “Yes. Terrible. We should be grateful that nobody was hurt.”
“Oh, and it could so easily have happened! I cannot lie, Arthur, and I must say that my concern was only for you.”
She took a step closer, and Arthur automatically stepped back. But the wall was behind him, and he couldn’t retreat much further.
“Thank you,” he managed.
Her gaze fluttered down to his hands, tucked carefully behind his back.
“I suppose it was just an accident, then? The rope frayed and broke?”
He forced a smile. “Yes, it looks that way.”
There was a half-minute of silence, then Miranda breathed out, stepping closer still, all but pressing herself against him.
