A Lady Never Tells(153)

She pushed the ring back into his hand and shoved past him, running back into the house. Royce stood staring after her, the ring cold and glittering in his hand.

Mary darted down the corridor. She had to get out of here. She turned in the direction they’d come, then stopped, unable to enter the ballroom. There was no way she could face everyone now. She wished that she could leave, just run home to Willowmere and cry her heart out. But of course she could not. Her sisters were scattered about, enjoying themselves. It would be wrong to make them leave just because of her own unhappiness.

She would go out into the gardens, she decided. Quickly she walked through the ballroom, looking neither right nor left. She did not want to meet anyone’s eye and have to smile or stop to talk. All she wanted was to reach the terrace doors. Once she heard someone call her name, but she did not look around.

The terrace doors were open to admit the cool evening air, and Mary slipped through them. A few couples stood or walked on the terrace, but she ignored them, trotting rapidly to the stairs and down into the garden. She headed toward the fountain—and there, sitting beside the fountain, looking around and impatiently tapping her foot, was Miss Dalrymple.

“Miss Dalrymple.” Mary came to a stop, dismayed.

This was the worst possible thing, to have run into her chaperone when all she wanted was to be alone. The woman was staring at her as if she’d seen an apparition, which was most peculiar since they had ridden over in the same carriage. Nor could Mary understand why Miss Dalrymple was sitting out here. She had been so gleeful, even smug, that Lady Sabrina had sent her an invitation of her own—although Mary, with her changed perception of Lady Sabrina, suspected it was done simply to make sure that the Bascombes would have someone to monitor and criticize them throughout the party.

“What are you doing—” Mary began.

“You!” Miss Dalrymple barked, glaring at her. “Why are you here?”#p#分页标题#e#

Mary blinked, unsure how to answer.

“That idiot girl! Did she send you? I specifically told her to come herself.”

“Who? What are you talking about?”

Miss Dalrymple narrowed her eyes. “Never mind. You will just have to do.”

“What?” Mary stumbled as Miss Dalrymple gripped her arm and began to pull her down the path into the garden. “What are you doing? Where are we going?” Mary was beginning to think the woman was losing her mind.

“To find Lily and that boy. I told Rose. I thought she must have told you.”

“Told me what?” Mary frowned, her pace picking up as she realized that Lily was in some sort of trouble. “I didn’t see any of my sisters.”

“Lily went outside with a young man. We can’t let her compromise her reputation. It will be a terrible scandal.”

“Lily went into the gardens with some man she doesn’t know? Really, Miss Dalrymple, are you certain it was Lily you saw?”

“Yes, of course it was. I’m not daft. Nor blind. It’s just like her, always full of romantic nonsense.”

Mary had to admit that the romantic silliness fit Lily. Still, it seemed peculiar that she would venture into the dark gardens with someone she didn’t know. If nothing else, after the scares they’d had the past few weeks—

A chill ran up Mary’s spine. She turned and looked at Miss Dalrymple, her steps faltering. Miss Dalrymple gripped her arm so tightly that it hurt as she jerked Mary around the corner of a hedge.

Standing there waiting, holding some sort of cloth in his hands, was Egerton Suttersby.

For an instant, he and Mary stared at each other in amazement. Then his face flushed with fury.

“You! You’re the wrong one!” He swung toward Miss Dalrymple. “You fool! You brought me the wrong girl!”

Mary whirled to run, but Miss Dalrymple was still clutching her arm tightly. Miss Dalrymple grabbed Mary with the other hand too and held on.

“What does it matter? She’s the one who came out! You said you’d take any of them!”

Miss Dalrymple was stronger than Mary had expected, and that, coupled with sheer surprise, enabled her to hold Mary for a moment. Then Mary let out a loud shriek and kicked her hard in the shins, and Miss Dalrymple let go, crying out in pain. But before Mary could take two steps, Suttersby’s arms went tightly around her and his hand clamped over her mouth. Mary kicked backward, twisting and turning frantically. She connected with his leg and heard a sharp oath, but still the man dragged her backward. His hand was tight against her face, but she managed to open her mouth and bite the fleshy pad below his fingers.