The Demure Miss Manning. Amanda McCabe

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The Demure Miss Manning - Amanda McCabe Mills & Boon Historical

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into the stars.

      ‘Oh, bravo, Sebastian! That was quick work indeed.’

      The sudden sound of a gleeful voice felt like a shower of cold water raining down on the golden sunshine of that kiss. Mary stumbled back from Sebastian and would have fallen over the balustrade if he hadn’t still held on to her arm. She physically ached, as if she had taken a sudden and sharp tumble.

      She peered past his shoulder to find three men watching them—Lord Paul Gilesworth, Nicholas Warren and Lord James Sackville, who had been with Sebastian at Lady Alnworth’s house. It was Giles who had spoken and he watched them with a most repulsive, artificial smile. Mr Warren, to his dubious credit, looked red-faced and appalled, while Lord James laughed.

      Mary shook her head. This was surely a nightmare. It simply had to be. Only a moment before, she had felt more burningly alive than ever before. Now she felt cold, distant from the whole scene before her, as if she watched it in a play.

      What had seemed such a sparkling, wondrous fairy tale had become something strange and ugly. She closed her eyes and prayed for delivery from that bad dream. She felt his hand on her arm and even it was not like before. Now it felt like a shackle.

      When she opened her eyes, it was all still there. The men looking at her, Gilesworth looking horribly triumphant. She was trapped, frozen. After so many years of being proper, being careful, she had made one small misstep and been caught. It was a horrible feeling.

      She waited for Sebastian to say something, for the appalling embarrassment to vanish, but that one terrible instant seemed to stretch on and on.

      Then Gilesworth’s words, all his words, crashed into her mind.

       Quick work indeed.

      Could that mean—was it really possible? Had Sebastian meant to seduce her into kissing him, for the amusement of his friends?

      She swung around to look at him, horrified. He stared back at her, his face wary, unreadable. The man who had talked to her of the stars, who had listened to her confidences and kissed her so sweetly, had vanished.

      ‘Is...is it...’ she stammered. She wasn’t even sure what she was trying to say. Every word she ever knew had fled from her mind. She felt her cheeks flame with red-hot shame, yet at the same time she was frozen. She could only stare up at Sebastian. She couldn’t see his eyes in the shadows.

      ‘You should be quite proud, Miss Manning, to have gained the attention of such a hero as our Lord Sebastian,’ Gilesworth said smugly. ‘We weren’t sure the two of you really had it in you to be so bold. But I see that for fifty guineas...’

      Fifty guineas? Were they paying Sebastian to kiss her?

      Fool, fool, her mind screamed at her. She had never felt so silly, so stupid before in her life.

      ‘Mary, no, please...’ Sebastian began, his voice rough and hoarse.

      But Mary couldn’t bear to hear him say anything, for him to make excuses or, far worse, laugh at her. She felt like the sky, so beautiful with those shimmering stars, was crashing atop her.

      She shook her head and pulled her arm free of his touch. What had felt so warm, so safe, now felt like ice. She couldn’t bear to be near him a moment longer, to face the laughter of his friends. She spun around and ran towards the doors into the ballroom, hardly knowing where she was going. She heard Gilesworth’s laughter chasing her.

      Only when she saw the bright lights, the blur of the spinning dancers, did she realise she was in no fit state to face a crowd. Even if word of that kiss, that horrid bet, spread, she would have to hold her head up in a dignified play-act. She veered around to the side of the house and found a footman to direct her to the ladies’ retiring room.

      It was thankfully quiet in the small sitting room. Mary ducked behind a screen to take a deep breath, to close her eyes and try to slow down her racing thoughts. As she smoothed her hair and straightened her skirt, she heard the door open and other ladies’ gowns rustling into the room amid a cloud of laughter. She had to compose herself, then find her father and go home immediately.

      The most handsome rogue in London. Mary bit her lip to keep from laughing aloud in a rather bitter fashion. They were utterly right, on both counts. Sebastian Barrett was devilishly handsome—and a terrible rogue, with no concern for ladies’ feelings. Mary was sure she should have realised that, should have realised that his attentions were all a terrible jest. Men like him had no interest in women like her.

      She would never forget that again.

      * * *

      ‘Mary!’ Sebastian called, but she was already gone, vanished into the darkness of the evening like a fluttering pink butterfly. His own head felt cursedly clouded, hazy with the unexpected delight of that kiss, and he wasn’t fast enough to catch her. He had started to tell her the truth, had wanted to tell her, and yet it all came much too late.

      Gilesworth caught Sebastian’s arm as he started after her, and tossed a heavy purse of clanking coins at his chest. Sebastian let them fall to the terrace stones as he stared into Gilesworth’s smirking face.

      How had he ever befriended such a man, even in his desperation to forget battle? He had let boredom draw him into a vile scheme and now he bitterly rued the day.

      All he could see was Mary’s face, pale and shocked in the moonlight as she ran away from him. For one perfect moment, as he held her slender, trembling body in his arms, he had forgotten the men he had lost in battle, forgotten his family and London society, and the terrible, numb aimlessness of life. She made him forget, made things seem new and bright again.

      It was something he hadn’t expected at all, something startling. That awakening to sensation again, with the soft touch of her lips, the faint scent of her sweet rose perfume. And it had been shattered all too quickly, snatched away, and he had little but himself to blame. He had taken Gilesworth’s ridiculous wager, and now he had wounded the sweetest lady he had ever met.

      He reached out and grabbed Gilesworth by the front of his immaculate evening coat, erasing the man’s hideous smirk.

      ‘You will never speak of this to anyone,’ Sebastian said, in a low, steady voice. He wouldn’t let his burning anger overwhelm him now; he had to help Mary however he could and stemming any gossip was only the first step. ‘If I even hear that you have so much as uttered Miss Manning’s name, I shall make you sorry you were ever born.’

      Gilesworth’s self-satisfied smirk vanished, replaced by fear barely masked by a scowl. ‘Now, listen here, Barrett. It was all just a bit of fun, and you—’

      ‘It is in no way a “bit of fun”, and I was a bloody, foxed fool to ever involve myself in such a vile scheme,’ Sebastian said. Inside, the dark flood of self-disgust threatened to drown him, but outwardly he stayed cold and calm. It was the hard lesson of battle. ‘But it is over now. You will leave Miss Manning in peace. Is that understood?’

      He swept a cold glance over all of them. Lord James swallowed hard and nodded, and Nicholas Warren looked red-faced and appalled. Gilesworth scowled, as if he would argue and force Sebastian to challenge him to a duel or something equally ridiculous, but when Sebastian’s fist tightened in the twist of his coat, he sullenly agreed.

      Sebastian pushed the man away and hurried to the house

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