He settled on the rage. That was easy. That was something he was used to.
Austin pulled away from her and then caught Miss Lavender’s elbow. She gasped in alarm—or perhaps pain—but it didn’t stop him from dragging her off the path behind a large willow tree.
“Are you mad?” she gasped, eyes wide and cheeks red. She looked frantically around them. “Do you know how scandalous itwould be if we were caught behind here by ourselves? We must be within view at all times!”
He couldn’t believe his ears. This maddening woman had the gall to say such a thing after calling him a bastard right to his face?
“I do not give a damn what anyone thinks,” he growled. “And clearly you do not either.”
Miss Lavender pulled her arm from his grasp and took a step back, frowning in confusion. She pulled her shoulders back as if she was preparing herself for a fight. “You will have to be a little clearer than that if you want me to understand to what you’re referring to,” she said stiffly.
“A bastard,” he pushed through gritted teeth. “How bold of you to say that to my face.”
“Is it not what you are?” she said. She seemed to catch herself, then draw in a deep breath. “Forgive me. It was what you were.”
A harsh laugh barked from his throat, making her stiffen. He stalked away from her, running his hand through his hair. He couldn’t understand the frustration that consumed him. Austin always knew his birthright. Everyone in England knew that the late Earl of Derby had been unfaithful to his wife with a maid and he had been the result of it. Once upon a time, he’d carried the title of a bastard like weight on his shoulders. More recently, he liked to think that he wore it like a badge of honor.
But hearing her referring to him as one with such gumption, something that he hadn’t heard since he’d been in school, threw him. His title as an earl did not matter to his lady. Only his former status as a bastard did.
“I did not mean it as a slight, my lord,” Miss Lavender spoke again. She had the audacity to speak as if he was the one misunderstanding her. “I only thought to be transparent with you. We could work together to—”
“You forget yourself, miss,” Austin snapped, barely keeping his voice under control. She stiffened but didn’t step back when he advanced on her, tilting her head to meet his eyes. “I am not here to cater to your petty need for revenge. So while I may not be the gentleman you are hoping for, I am not a tool to be used for yourpurposes either. My only interest was to marry you and then continue with my life as if you do not exist.”
She thinned her lips. Somehow, anger brought her face to life. A fire to her deep brown eyes, redness to her cheeks, the pink of her tongue darting out before she bit her bottom lip as if she were struggling to hold back the words she truly wanted to say.
“I apologise—” she began but Austin didn’t care to stick around to hear the rest of it.
“I have had enough of this,” he muttered to himself, then turned and headed back the way they came.
He didn’t think she would come after him. He walked briskly and Miss Lavender would have to run to catch up to him. So when he made it halfway to the carriage, though he had no intention of taking it, he was surprised when she caught his arm. There was enough force within her grasp to stop him.
“You will receive an invitation later tomorrow for tea hosted by Mrs. Heather Lawrence at their family manor. You will be expected to escort me.”
Austin curled his upper lip in disgust, pulling his arm away from her. He ignored the pinch of disappointment at her words. He’d expected another attempt at an apology but her mind was focused on one thing alone, it seemed. Like every other vapid lady in London.
He didn’t respond, stalking away instead. He had half a mind to go straight to Vincent Latrice and tell him that he could no longer do this. Had it not been for the weight of money in his wallet, he would have.
Chapter Six
She was going to kill him. And Vincent. And perhaps even the lords and ladies of the ton who made her feel the need to put herself through this in the first place.
Anxiety coursed through Lavender’s body like a roaring river. She smoothed her hands over her dress for the tenth time even though she knew that there wasn’t a single thing out of place. She’d chosen her dress perfectly, a subtle green color that hopefully brought out the depth of her eyes with a matching pair of gloves. Betty had curled her hair in lovely ringlets with a simple floral headpiece affixed between them. Her aim was to look effortlessly put together like many other ladies she’d witnessed before but she could hardly pull that off when she had been waiting for her chaperone to show up for the past thirty minutes.
She glanced out the window of her carriage once more, resisting the urge to shake her leg in impatience. Of course the earl was late. If she hadn’t received a curt letter last night informing her that he would be attending, she would have assumed that he wasn’t coming at all.
Lavender didn’t dare to exit her carriage until he arrived. She asked her coachman to wait near Lawrence Manor so that no one would know that she had arrived yet. It would be better if they both arrived late rather than one at a time. But she didn’t know how much longer she could hold out.
Just when she thought she couldn’t take it any longer, she spotted a familiar figure ambling down the street. Lavender quickly exited the carriage, grabbing her skirts just in time to keep everything in place. She watched as Lord Derby made his way to the manor with his hands tight into fists at his side and that scowl on his face. He walked with a slight limp as if he was injured.
And oh dear, what happened to his face?
Lavender’s jaw went slack when he came to stop in front of her. She couldn’t find the right words. There were just too many things going wrong right now. His lateness. The dusty, out-of-fashion clothes he wore. And worse of all, the purple-black bruise encircling his right eye.
“What happened to you?” she breathed in alarm.
Lord Derby didn’t deem that a question he should answer. He only grunted in annoyance and walked by her. To her horror, he was walking right up to the front door of the manor. Lavender grabbed her dress and hurried behind him.
“You cannot go in like that,” she said hurriedly. “Who did that to you? Why do you have a blackened eye? My lord, you cannot.”