What she had done was reprehensible. And yet …
Mary let out another groan and sank her fingers into her hair, pressing her fingertips into her scalp as though she could stop the thoughts running rampant in her head. She had enjoyed every moment of what had happened downstairs. Her entire body had come alive beneath Royce’s kisses and caresses. If he had not stopped, she was sure that she would not have done so. And if he were to come into her room right now, she knew that she just might fall into his arms all over again.
She also knew, however, that there could be nothing between her and Royce. He had made that perfectly clear. And to give herself to him would be the worst decision she could make. She would be ruined. Disgraced. That truth was drummed into every young girl’s head from the moment she blossomed into a woman.
Mary had always wondered why everyone was so insistent on this lesson. Avoiding the sin of lust had seemed easy enough to her; she had never once been tempted to do any more than kiss a man. But now she understood. Pleasure offered a slippery slope indeed. She would have to be far more careful in the future if she intended not to go sliding right down it.
And that meant staying away from Royce. With a sigh, Mary rose to her feet. That shouldn’t be too hard; at the moment, he was the last person she wanted to see. She felt sure her face would turn crimson the next time she saw him. She could not bear to imagine what he must think of her. He had regarded her as a hoyden before; now he must think her a hussy as well.#p#分页标题#e#
Bundling the nightgown into a ball, she strode over to the trunk at the foot of her bed and opened it, then stuffed the ruined gown down under the folded blankets. She could not let the maids catch sight of it. It would be impossible to explain the enormous rip down the front.
With that task done, she drew her other night rail from the dresser drawer and pulled it on, then climbed into bed. She should try to sleep, she knew, if she did not want to look tomorrow as if she had stayed up all night.
When Mary awoke the next morning, she looked just as she had feared—dark circles under her eyes and a weary set to her mouth. She considered staying in bed and pleading sick. Looking at herself in the mirror, she did not think anyone would doubt her.
However, if she was too sick to join her sisters, they would all come trooping up here, full of questions and sympathy. That was the last thing she wanted. No, it was better to go downstairs and subject herself to Miss Dalrymple’s lessons. Her sisters would be too busy with their own dislike of the tasks before them to think overmuch about Mary’s lack of spirits.
She was relieved to see that at least she was too late for breakfast, so she rang for the maid and asked for a tray of tea and toast. When she was done with her meager breakfast, she put on the best face she could and went downstairs to face the others.
She was greatly relieved to find that Royce was not with her sisters and Miss Dalrymple, but she found it even more difficult than usual to pay attention to Miss Dalrymple’s explanation of the proper forms of address for all titles. Her mind kept wandering to the night before and whether Royce would try to avoid her today just as she was avoiding him. How low had his opinion of her sunk?
Royce did not join them for lunch, but when it was time for their dancing lesson, he appeared in the small ballroom as he always did. Mary’s heart sped up when she saw him, and she glanced quickly away. She was tempted to hang back and let him dance with the others, to say that she had turned her ankle. But that was not her way, and she did not consider it long.
When it was her turn to dance, she strode forward, and though she was certain that the color in her cheeks was higher than normal, she looked straight into his face. She might be embarrassed about what she had done last night, but she refused to let him see that. He bowed and led her out onto the floor. At least, Mary thought, they were not practicing the waltz today. She did not have to feel his hand on her waist or stand so close to him. She had only to face him as they moved and from time to time put her hand on his arm. That was difficult enough, with her insides quivering like jelly.
Royce’s expression was polite, but more remote than she had ever seen. There was no twinkle in his eyes, nor a smile at the corner of his mouth. Indeed, Mary thought, he was doing an admirable imitation of the earl. His coolness did away with the last of her nerves. Did he have the audacity, she wondered, to be angry with her?
He seemed much more himself as he moved on to dance with her sisters. Mary watched them, her irritation growing as he laughed and talked with Rose or Lily. She knew, deep down, that she was being unfair to expect him to be at ease with her when she had felt such trepidation at facing him. But she could not help but fear that she had lost his friendship, that he would never again act the same with her.