The news seemed to please Eloise. “Well done. Now about your gowns, are they ready yet?”
“No, but they will be shortly,” she assured, still unwilling to admit her own concerns. “I’ve completed the final fittings and Mother has arranged to have them delivered tomorrow, in plenty of time before the official start of the season.”
Eloise clapped her hands. “Wonderful! I can’t wait to see you in them. Madame de Bressard is a marvel.”
“Indeed, she is. Some of her designs are quite beautiful, but the white satin I’m to wear to Lord Falmouth’s has far too many bows and ribbons to be considered elegant.” She paused a moment and wrinkled her nose. “Madame de Bressard wasn’t keen on those frills either, but Mother insisted. No doubt she hoped they would make me appear more innocent.”
Now she nibbled her lip, suddenly dreading her debut. Had rumor of The Incident begun to spread throughout Polite Society? Was that the reason for the curious glances she was receiving lately? Looking her best was the least of her worries, she supposed.
Eloise seemed to read her thoughts. “I’m sure you’ll look quite charming and be well received by all. Do stop fretting, child.”
“Am I that obvious?” Daisy rose from her seat with a sigh. “I do wish to make my family proud, restore their faith in me. I’ll let you in on a little secret, Eloise.”
“Ooh, I love secrets!” She leaned forward eagerly.
“Despite my fears, I will enjoy being thrown into the marriage mart. As madly paced as these next few months will be, it will be a pleasant improvement over the chaos presently reigning at home.”
Eloise pursed her lips. “That’s a logical observation, not a secret. Everyone knows your home is a madhouse.”
“Speaking of which,” Daisy said, backing toward the door while continuing to chatter, her gaze on Eloise and not on where she was going, “I shudder to think what the little devils are doing now. I really must go. And you must get back to your guest before he suspects foul play. I’ll stop by as soon as Mother returns and—”
Eloise let out a gasp. “Daisy, look out!”
“Oof!” She bounced off something solid at the doorway and lost her balance, but was spared the indignity of a fall when a pair of large hands connected to muscled arms reached out and caught her. She found herself locked in the embrace of the gentleman who had earlier rescued Harry, her back pressed against his chest as he drew her against him to steady her. Did all gentlemen have rock-hard chests?
“We meet again, Miss Farthingale,” he said in a soft, throaty rumble, slowly turning her to face him.
A crimson rush of heat shot straight into Daisy’s face and fanned across her cheeks. Her heart began to thump erratically within her chest. Oh, great balls of cheese! Up close, the man was even handsomer than she remembered. “Yes, how nice to see you... er... er...”
He hadn’t mentioned his name, and by the look of him, didn’t seem inclined to tell her. Too bad she hadn’t thought to press Eloise for the information, but it hadn’t seemed important at the time. In any event, knowing his name would somehow make the horror of the encounter worse. He’d no longer be some stranger who had the misfortune to cross her path on the street.
She tried to stifle her embarrassment and turn away, but his eyes seemed to exert an invisible force that held her in place. There was something dark and dangerous in their tawny gleam. His lips twitched at the corners, as though he was holding back a laugh or a condescending remark. She knew what he really wanted to say was “you’re a clumsy simple-brain and I’d like you to keep as far away from me as possible.”
He continued to hold her, but made no attempt at politeness. A simple nod or smile would have sufficed, but he failed to offer either. Of course, why would he? She was the last woman on earth he cared to see, which was really too bad because he truly was one of the handsomest men she had ever encountered.
Indeed, quite the handsomest she had ever met, despite his scars. “You never told me your name.”
He arched a wicked eyebrow. “I know.”
Oh, he did look sinfully dangerous, too. In a way that made a girl’s heart flutter as hers was fluttering now. Well, her heart was doing a little more than that, for it was practically in spasms and leaping out of her chest. Drat! Why did he have that effect on her? One would think the scar at his chin and the one above his eye would make him look cruel or scary, but they didn’t. One would think that his size and solid muscles would be intimidating... well, they were, but in an exciting, melt-one’s-resistance sort of way.