Page 50 of Her Notorious Rake
***
Dalton stepped away from Celeste, trying to put as much distance between her and himself as he could. This was all wrong—he had not wanted to see Celeste approach him in the privacy of the garden. He’d been waiting for Gemma.
But she breathed his name, and advanced upon him until he had nowhere to go, pressing himself against the prickly hedge. “Celeste, what are you doing?” he hissed.
“Oh, cousin,” her pale eyes glistened with unshed tears as she leaned into his arms. “Why do you try to resist what is so manifest between us?”
“Celeste, stop, I beg you,” he stepped to the side, trying to extricate himself from her. But he heard a soft cry and turned his head to see Gemma, standing just a few feet away, staring aghast at the scene as it unfolded.
“Miss Hayesworth,” he choked out, taking a step towards her. But she backed away, shaking her head. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, and her expression was gut-wrenching. “Miss Hayesworth, it isn’t as it seems—”
Nothing could quite describe the utter grief that twisted her features as she whirled on her heel and fled out of sight. Dalton’s knees buckled as it sank in. He’d lost her, forever. And Celeste—
He wheeled on her, heart pounding. “Why, Celeste?” he choked out. “Why would you—”
She ignored him, advancing upon him again, grasping at the front of his coat. Before he could react, Uncle Ernest, Lady Neville, and several of the other guests appeared at the head of the path, staring in horrified shock.
“What’s the meaning of this?” Uncle Ernest barked out, his voice trembling with fury as Celeste retreated into his arms, sobbing. Lady Neville hurried in the direction Gemma had gone, while the other guests whispered loudly amongst themselves.Dalton caught snippets of what they were saying.
“What would you expect from him? He’s a rake.”
“Good heavens.”
“That poor niece of yours.”That last one was ludicrous, as it was directed to Uncle Ernest.
Dalton glared at his uncle before striding after Gemma, his vision blurring as an indignation he’d never known surged within him. He paused beside his uncle, unable to think of anything to say. But he hoped his stare conveyed it all.How could you?
Uncle Ernest returned his gaze coolly, lifting one eyebrow with immaculately portrayed dismay. As if he had nothing to do with this. As if—
Dalton strode on past him, hurrying his steps until he was nearly running, up the terrace and into the ballroom inside
He scanned for a glimpse of Gemma—if only she would let him explain.Wherewas she? He prayed she had not left yet.
He raced into the entry hall, nearly jostling into Lord Colin Neville, who was speaking with his sister in low, urgent tones.
“Blakemore!” Neville barked out, stepping towards him. Ernest scanned for a glimpse of Gemma, for any sign of her at all. “Blakemore,” Neville repeated. “Mrs. Hayesworth, if that’s who you’re looking for, is departed already.”
“Has she? With the carriage?” Philippa Kenway swept towards them, stately as ever. “Why, what happened?”
When Lord Neville and his sister glanced at Dalton, Lady Kenway whirled on him. “What did you do to her?” she seethed, before.
“I—”
“Miss Hayesworth set out on foot, Lady Kenway,” Lord Neville said hurriedly, clearly endeavoring to avoid a scene.
“On foot!” Lady Kenway huffed, brushing past Dalton with a scathing glance. “Why would she—I’d best go after her.”
Dalton followed her before she reeled on him, holding up a finger. “Don’t you follow,” she whispered, her voice shaking, blue eyes bright with fury. “You’ve done enough, have you not, Lord Blakemore?”
He stepped back, unable to speak, watching as Lady Kenway hastened out the front door, which had been opened by a footman.
“What did you do?” Lord Neville whispered, as the rest of the guests whispered amongst themselves urgently.
Dalton didn’t answer him. He took off running out the door, brushing against a footman and nearly upsetting him. Somewhere behind him, Uncle Ernest bellowed out his name, and Celeste cried out, “Uncle!”
Dalton began to walk. Before long he was up the street, away from the prying glances and scandalized whispers. His thoughts ran together as he walked blindly, turning down streets he didn’t even read. Maybe somehow, he would find his way to Lady Kenway’s, explain everything. Or at least, try to. She had to know that he would never—
Somehow, he ended up at Theodore’s, and his friend’s butler let him in without question, as if reading everything he needed to know in Dalton’s expression.
