Page 26 of Gone with the Rake

The crush in the ballroom slowed his escape, and every few steps, someone intercepted him for meaningless pleasantries. Thorn couldn’t make out their words over the loud buzzing in his ears. What was happening to him? The gilded ballroom seemed to whirl around him, the candlelight blurring into golden streaks.

Was he about to swoon?

Wouldn’t that be a treasured experience for the ton to gossip about?

“Thorn?” His name floated through the buzzing haze again. “Tho-orn?”

He wanted to elbow his way through the crowd, but ingrained manners forced him to try and focus on the voice.

“Didn’t expect to see you here today. Actually, I didn’t expect to see you in any ballroom anytime soon.” Lady Stanhope materialized before him, her fan fluttering rapidly.

“Yes, well, I’m…” Thorn yanked at his cravat again, his throat constricting. “It’s rather hot in here, isn’t it?”

“Absolutely,” she chirped, her high-pitched tone piercing through his growing headache. “Shall we take a turn about the gardens?”

Gardens! Better than a mere balcony. And with a woman on his arm, fewer people might waylay him. “Yes. Let’s,” he said, practically shoving Lady Stanhope’s hand into the crook of his arm as he propelled them toward the main doors with unseemly haste.

* * *

Lydia watched from across the ballroom as Thorn practically dragged Lady Stanhope toward the garden, his long strides eating up the distance. He must have been truly anxious for a tryst.

Her heart squeezed painfully in her chest. She let out a fortifying breath and moved toward the garden with deliberately unhurried steps. As she passed a side table, she plucked a glass of wine and took a large sip. More of a gulp, really.

She wanted to give the couple time to become thoroughly engrossed in each other, ensuring neither would notice her arrival. But if she was being honest with herself, she was also desperately in want of that drink.

She took another lengthy sip, the wine warming her throat.

Given how quickly Thorn had bolted from the ballroom, perhaps she should have hurried. She knew some men were very eager and could conclude a tryst in mere minutes.

One more sip.

Was Thorn one of those men? Was he an attentive lover, or did he care only for his own pleasure? He used to be gentle, so gentle…

Argh! Lydia was ready to scream at her inappropriate thoughts. It doesn’t matter!

None of it mattered except for her mission.

She tipped the glass to her mouth only to find it empty. She’d finished the entire glass of wine in under a minute. Lydia stared at the empty glass for a moment before returning to the side table and securing another drink.

She downed it in three long gulps, squared her shoulders, and hurried toward the garden.

Where did they go?

Lydia passed several couples hidden in shadowy alcoves as she searched for Thorn and Lady Stanhope before she heard his familiar low growl floating through the evening air.

“…were mistaken in my intentions, Lady Stanhope.”

Lydia crept closer, keeping to the shadows of a large topiary. Thorn and Lady Stanhope stood across from each other, at least two feet of proper space between them. What was going on?

Lady Stanhope stepped closer to him, gently but confidently trailing her hand over his arm. “Come, Thorn. Don’t tell me you don’t want one last tumble.” She purred the last word so softly that Lydia nearly missed it. Lydia fought the urge to turn away. How did she expect to coldly sneak in and steal the jewel while they were having a tryst when she could barely watch Lady Stanhope touch his arm?

Art placed his hand over Lady Stanhope’s, then yanked it away. “I am sorry, Anthea, but I am a betrothed man now, and I promised…”

Betrothed?

Lydia didn’t hear the rest. Art continued speaking, his lips kept moving, but it was as though no sound emerged. Or perhaps it did? The buzzing in Lydia’s head muffled all outside noise into meaningless sounds.

Buzzing… or was it screaming?