Page 41 of An Affair with a Notorious Heiress
Spinning around, she was marching away before he realized her intentions. He rushed to catch up. Lady Landsdowne had seemed so strong, so in control, he hadn’t considered she was more shaken than she appeared. Blast it. He should have stayed to comfort her, to offer a shoulder. The thought of her somewhere in tears had his chest tightening. She might be done with him, but he wasn’t yet ready to be done with her.
She found a room populated with fainting couches. Fortunately no one was there to disturb her as she settled onto one of the plush lounges. Her trembling began anew, and not because she was reliving her encounter with Evanston but rather she was thinking about the kiss that Rexton had bestowed—or had begun to bestow before she’d shoved him away.
She’d almost given into it, welcomed it, parted her lips to give him full access to her mouth but she’d remembered Gina... she couldn’t betray her sister in such a vile manner. Then when he’d confessed he hadn’t been courting Gina at all—his behavior was reprehensible. All because he wanted access to a horse’s cock.
Tears threatened; she buried her face in her hands. Tears because of the horror she’d endured in the hallway, the yearning that Rexton instilled in her, the heartbreak he was going to bring to Gina. She should have gone to fetch her sister—her torn gown be damned. If he hurt Gina’s tender feelings before Tillie was close enough to comfort her sister, she was going to make him pay in ways he couldn’t imagine. In ways she couldn’t imagine if she was honest about it because she truly didn’t know how to go about getting even with him. It had been different with Downie. She’d known his excessive pride was his weakness. She had yet to determine any weaknesses on Rexton’s part—other than his desire to possess Black Diamond.
“Are you all right?”
At the softly spoken question, Tillie jerked her gaze up to find two ladies who looked remarkably alike staring at her with identical furrowed brows. Their hair was a blond, paler than any she’d ever seen, almost white. Their blue eyes showed true concern. Tillie nodded. “I’m fine, thank you.”
“You’ve torn your lovely gown,” one of them said as she settled on the lounge, her hip nearly touching Tillie’s. “And you have a scratch on your shoulder. What happened?”
Her eyes held Tillie’s in an almost trancelike state. She wanted to lie, make an excuse, tell them to go away. Instead she heard herself say, “I was accosted.”
“Who was the gentleman?” the woman asked with insistence and a tightening of her features.
“If he accosted her then he was no gentleman now, was he?” the other asked. “Who was the damned bastard? We’ll have him routed out and—”
“Lord Rexton already saw to him. Quite satisfactorily if I’m honest.”
“Beat him to a bloody pulp, did he?” she asked with a twinkle in her eye.
“Close enough.”
She tilted her head, studied Tillie shrewdly. “If Rex is coming to your defense then you must be Lady Landsdowne. I’ve heard he’s been keeping company with the notorious heiress.”
“Actually he’s been keeping company with—” She stopped. Gina was going to be mortified that people had noticed him courting her. And then to be tossed over. She couldn’t allow that to happen. The man was going to have to continue to court her sister until someone else was willing to step up to the role.
“With?” the woman prodded.
“My sister. I’ve simply been serving as chaperone.”
“Would you like my sister to mend your frock?” the one sitting beside her offered. “She always carries around her sewing kit for emergencies.”
“Indeed I do,” she said as she began riffling through her reticule.
“I couldn’t trouble you.”
“Oh, it’s no trouble.” She held up a small leather case. “I’m very skilled. Move aside, Scout.” As she replaced her sister, she said, “I’m Skye, by the way.”
“You have correctly discerned who I am, but you must call me Tillie.” She didn’t know why at that moment she didn’t want to be associated with Downie at all.
“It’s a very lovely gown,” Skye said. “When I’m done here, you’ll be able to wear it again as no one will be able to tell that anything was ever amiss.”
She couldn’t see herself wearing it. Too many memories associated with it. All the inappropriate thoughts she’d had regarding Rexton. How she’d begun to think he was a different sort of man, one worthy of Gina—one worthy of herself. She’d started to like him, to have hope that he could prove not all men were beasts.
A shiver went through her as she remembered Evanston grabbing her, clawing at her.
“Don’t think about what happened,” Skye said kindly, and Tillie realized she probably felt the shudder go through her.
“However, if you’d care to give us the name,” Scout said, “our brother is a constable. He likes nothing better than bashing heads.”
“Not while he’s on duty, naturally,” Skye added. “But on occasion, he and Rexton make the rounds through Whitechapel, warding off ne’er-do-wells.”
That explained the speed and ferocity with which his fist had made contact with Evanston’s face. “They roam the streets, looking for trouble?”
“Not looking so much as not running off when it crosses their path.”
