“Allan, I can explain.”
“I need no explanation. Funnily enough, I have the power of my own eyes to see what was happening.”
His tart answer made Stephen feel sick.
Stephen raised his hand and rubbed his eyes as if he could wake up from this nightmare, but he could not. With him and Dorothy on the verge of kissing, her hair wild and the two of them completely alone, what scandal they had both willingly caused.
For all of Lord Chilmond’s threats, Stephen had caused a scandal, regardless.
“Dorothy,” Allan said again. “Go upstairs now and pack your things. We are leaving this evening.”
Stephen lowered his hand from his face. “Allan, please,” he began. “I can explain…”
Yet, Allan’s glare silenced him. Allan plainly didn’t want to hear it.
“It is fortunate that my sister has loyal friends in this house, is it not?” Allan nodded at Lady Frederica behind him. She blushed a bright red. “She came to tell me of the strange matter of your note and your running to the library.”
“It’s not how it sounds,” Dorothy murmured, rushing to her brother’s side.
“Maybe not,” Allan said darkly. “Yet, what I saw cannot be mistaken. Go and pack now.”
“But—”
“Now, Dorothy.”
Everything Stephen knew about Dorothy suggested that she would argue with her brother and refuse to do what he said, but he was wrong. Dorothy hung her head and slipped past him. Lady Charlotte hurried after her down the corridor.
The sound of more cries made Stephen flinch as if Dorothy’s pain was his own.
The Dorothy I know is depleted. She wouldn’t even argue against her brother’s order.
“Allan, please—” Stephen said, stepping toward his friend.
Allan held up a hand, cutting him off. “I do not want to hear it.” He shook his head. “You. Of all people, you.”
“It’s not—”
“Another time.” Allan backed up. He nearly collided with Lady Frederica, who managed to step out of the way. “I need to get my sister out of here before anyone else in this house hears of what has just happened. I will not let her face that.”
There was much more that Stephen wanted to say, to plead with his friend, but it was too late. For all that he could claim, he knew he was guilty. He had already kissed Dorothy once, and he had been in true danger of kissing her again, without hesitation.
Allan has every right to hate me.
Allan and Lady Frederica disappeared into the hall, leaving Stephen completely alone.
* * *
Dorothy at last managed to stop crying. She sat in the carriage as it jostled her from side to side, her handkerchief screwed up in her hand. She hadn’t even attempted to explain to her brother what Lord Chilmond had done, for every time she had opened her mouth, Allan had glared at her, challenging her into silence.
Overhead, the apricot-tinged lantern swung back and forth as the carriage rolled along. The light from the lantern fell over his face, revealing his glower and set expression. Her brother sometimes looked baffled, other times holding onto such fury, it was a wonder that his hands didn’t break, for they were balled into such tight fists.
“Allan, please,” Dorothy murmured through the darkness. The light from the lantern was beginning to fade, for the candle had been lit for so long. They had reached the early hours of the morning and couldn’t be far away from home now. “All I ask is that you do not hate me for what you saw today.”
“Hate you?” Allan whipped his head toward her. “A strange accusation, considering what I saw.” He shook his head. “I should challenge him to a duel.”
“A duel?” Dorothy spluttered. “He is your closest friend. You cannot do that –”
“He compromised you.”
