Page 82 of My Fair Lord

“Florence?” Clayton asked, looking more confused than she’d seen him in years. “Is that man a viscount or an earl? Will someone explain what is going on?”

His raised voice was drawing more attention.

Lord Stretford nodded curtly. “Will you excuse me. I can see I’ve intruded on a rather awkward situation.”

“Lord Stretford, there’s no need. Come and dance with Florence,” Clayton said. “Florence is so looking forward to the dance. She’s talked of little else all day.”

Lord Stretford smiled coldly, the act barely reaching his lips, never mind his eyes.

“Permit me to decline. I shall leave you to sort out your family crisis. Good evening to you both.”

He turned on his heel and walked away. Clayton looked like he was about to call after him but fortunately Twemlow caught his sleeve and shook his head.

Florence gave a soft moan of mortification. Not only was Ned leaving, but the viscount had openly rejected her.

She couldn’t bear the openly curious looks any longer. Picking up the hem of her skirt, she fled into the hallway. She was halfway to the inner garden courtyard when Ned caught up with her, falling in at her side. She sped up.

“Florence, wait!”

Head down, she carried on walking. “Leave me alone! I don’t want to talk to you. Thanks to you, my father is embarrassed and we’ll be the talk of the party.” She gulped down a sob. “You completely humiliated me. How could you do such a thing to me!”

“I have to explain.”

“Explain what? If what Lord Stretford said is true, you ran from England because you were about to become a father! What kind of abysmal scoundrel are you to abandon an expectant mother?”

“I didn’t know Stretford would be here. I need you to listen,” Ned said urgently.

She spun around, blood pounding in her ears and breathing heavily. Aware that there were guests strolling around the courtyard, she lowered her voice to an angry whisper. “And if he hadn’t been, then I’d be none the wiser! I don’t even know what is true and what isn’t but I don’t want to talk to you. Stay away from me or I’ll scream.”

Ned winced and his eyes filled with pain, but he nodded and stepped away. Giving a sob, Florence ran into the powder room and threw herself down on an overstuffed stool.

Too many questions whirled in her head.

What child? What countess? What earl?

Ned had always been cagey about his background and now she realised why. He’d been lying to her since the moment they met. She realised her nose was starting to run and delved into a hidden pocket in her skirt for a handkerchief. Looking at it, she reached a moment of clarity. She hadn’t given Ned the chance to explain, just as she hadn’t when she had discovered his handkerchief in Dottie’s box.

“Always jumping to conclusions,” she said quietly.

She leaned her elbows on the dressing table and buried her head in them, unable to see what alternative conclusion she should have jumped to but she owed it to him to let him explain the situation. If she didn’t find out everything, it would plague her forever. She tidied her face then went in search of Ned, hoping he had not left already.

He was in the internal courtyard, leaning against the fountain. He looked up as she approached and his face grew serious. “You came back.”

“I am determined not to jump to conclusions,” Florence said, trying to keep her voice level. “I will give you ten minutes to tell me the truth.”

Ned’s mouth twitched. “I expect it will take a little longer than that. Can we find somewhere quiet to sit down and I’ll explain everything?”

Beneath a magnolia tree in a quiet corner there was an empty love seat – the irony of which was not lost on Florence – so she sat on it, glad to have something steady beneath her.

Ned remained standing. “I did not run from England because I was in danger of becoming a father. I have never been married, nor as far as I’m aware, have I had the opportunity to father a child. The baby is not mine.”

Whatever else he might reveal, the cords that had tightened around Florence’s belly loosened at his words.

“You swear that.”

Ned dropped onto the bench beside her and looked deep into her eyes.

“I do. The countess that Lord Stretford spoke of is my sister-in-law, the widow of my brother Jasper, the sixth Earl of Ayesgarth.”