Page 4 of The Slipper Scandal
And judging by the rigid set of Mr. Darcy’s shoulders, he knew it too.
Chapter Two
Darcy had always prided himself on avoiding scandal. He had mastered the art of strategy—measured words, deliberate choices, and unwavering propriety.
And yet, here he stood, alone in the garden with an unchaperoned young lady, her incriminating slipper in his hand.
He had noticed her at once when Abernathy had introduced them. It had been impossible not to. In a sea of glittering Aphrodites, Miss Bennet had chosen the mask of Athena, a goddess more dignified than seductive. No, Athena was intelligent and independent. An unusual choice for a Twelfth Night ball.
She drew his attention more than he liked, and trying to determine why, he told himself, was the reason he had been watching her. Casually, intermittently. Simply to be sure she was safe, as Abernathy had mentioned it was her first ball. And that was how he came to see Miss Bennet lingering behind her party and then being swept through the side doors into the garden, with Ellington close behind.
Lord Ellington and his companions had already vanished back into the house, eager to spread their tale. Darcy knew full well that by the time he and Miss Bennet re-entered, half the ballroom would believe he had seduced her beneath the stars, stolen a secret tryst in the shadows, or even, if the whispers grew particularly inventive, been caught in the midst of some disgrace. A gentlewoman did not remove her shoes in the presence of a gentleman, and he certainly should not have been holding such an intimate article.
Even at a ball such as this, where indiscretions were allowed, even encouraged, his own reputation for not dallying with ladies and Miss Bennet’s status as a maiden would make such a rumour too delicious to resist.
The actual truth, that he had been trying to assist a maiden in avoiding Ellington and leading her back to her friends, and that he had stumbled across her abandoned slipper in the performance of that duty, was neither dramatic nor entertaining enough for society’s purposes.
“Give me my shoe.”
The voice was sharp, edged with impatience.
He looked up. Miss Bennet had removed her mask, and he noticed that she had a very pretty face to go along with her light, pleasing figure.
He swallowed.
Miss Bennet stood before him with her hand outstretched, fingers flexing slightly like a woman debating whether she ought to wait to be handed her slipper or rip it from his hand.
He considered for a moment, then glanced deliberately down at the shoe. “It is rather damp.”
“That will happen when silk is left in the grass.”
He lifted a brow. “But the path is gravel.”
“It flew off my foot into the grass, Mr. Darcy. I was moving rather quickly, and the grass is inches away.”
“And there you left it.”
“Yes, I believe we can presume so much. And also that you picked it up,” she countered.
Darcy huffed a quiet breath that might have been amusement, though how he could find anything humorous in their predicament was beyond him. This unusual conversation had temporarily distracted him. He held out the slipper.
Miss Bennet snatched it from his grasp and slipped it on with brisk efficiency. “There. A truly momentous occasion. We have restored order to England.”
He stifled a surprised laugh.
She straightened. “And now, if you will do me the courtesy of sending the Abernathys to the front of the house, I shall await them there. I see no reason to return inside.”
“No.”
Miss Bennet blinked. “No?”
“No,” he repeated.
She folded her arms. “You are neither my father nor my guardian. I do not have to obey you.”
“Nevertheless, I cannot allow it, Miss Bennet.”
“Allow it? Shall I request permission to breathe next?”
