She Kissed Him In Front Of Everyone To Save Him — Not Knowing That She Had Just Saved The Richest Duke
Chapter 3
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Lydia swallowed, her throat bone dry. She turned her head, keeping her hand firmly anchored in the crook of his arm, and faced the room.The silence was absolute. Two hundred pairs of eyes were fixed upon them. To her left, Agatha Rutledge stood frozen, her hands suspended in midair, looking entirely ridiculous. Lady Rutledge’s mouth was still open, but the scream of ruined virtue had died in her throat, replaced by a look of sheer apoplectic outrage.Lydia lifted her chin. If you are going to burn your house down, you might as well warm your hands by the fire."You promised me this waltz, darling," Lydia said loudly, projecting her voice toward the sea of staring faces. She forced a bright, brittle laugh. "Not a solitary sulk in the alcove. Honestly, you leave a man alone for five minutes..."A collective gasp swept through the crowd. It was the sound of a scandal being born. Not a forced marriage trap—that was a private, shameful business. This was public indecency. This was a spectacle. Lydia, the quiet, unmarriageable spinster of 24, had just accosted a man like a tavern wench in the middle of the Danbury assembly.The gray-eyed stranger didn’t flinch beneath the stares. He looked at the gaping crowd, then at Lady Rutledge, and finally down at Agatha, who was hastily pulling her shawl back up over her shoulders. His gaze was cold, stripping them bare of their pretenses in a fraction of a second. He understood exactly what had been about to happen.Then he looked back at Lydia. The coldness vanished, replaced by a smooth, impenetrable mask."Forgive me, my dear," he said, loud enough to carry. The endearment sent a weird shiver down Lydia’s spine. "The air was stifling. Shall we?"He offered her his arm. Lydia took it; her legs felt like water.She let him lead her away from the alcove, away from the furious, sputtering Rutledges. They didn’t go to the dance floor. He steered her straight toward the grand double doors of the exit. The crowd parted for them like the Red Sea, faces tight with shock, whispers erupting the moment they passed.They walked in silence down the sweeping marble staircase. The cool night air hit Lydia’s flushed face as they stepped out beneath the portico. The street was lined with waiting carriages, horses stamping their hooves on the cobblestones.Lydia abruptly let go of his arm. The adrenaline was draining out of her, leaving behind a cold, hollow terror."You’re welcome," she snapped, her voice trembling slightly.The man stopped. He turned to face her under the flickering light of a gas lamp. He didn’t look grateful; he looked intensely curious."Am I?" he asked quietly."They were going to ruin you! The compromise trap. You had your hands on her bare skin. Lady Rutledge was drawing breath to scream. By morning, you would have been buying a ring or picking out a second for a duel." Lydia wrapped her arms around herself, shivering as the damp fog settled over her thin silk gown. "You looked like you didn’t know what you were doing. So... I stopped it."