Page 2 of The Baron’s Halo

In the seconds it took Sandy to comprehend what was happening, he’d already shoved past a group of gentlemen at the edge of the floor, dodged this way and that through the couples who were quitting the dance floor, all of whom seemed to be coming straight at him, and finally broke into an outright run. He fetched up at Miss Devereaux’s side in less time than it took to breathe deeply, although it seemed as though he’d been trudging through quicksand for an hour.

Startled, the lady let out a slight “Awp,” and jumped back further, as though being beset from another front.

Barclay’s brows shot up, then slowly dipped into a dark frown. The scowl did nothing to improve the man’s appearance. He opened his mouth, but Sandy leaped into the fray, turning to the lady, who still looked wary.

“Miss Devereaux, I believe this next set belongs to me.” Sandy stared at the frightened lady, hoping to convey his good intentions through his steadfast gaze and eager smile. He couldn’t have been mistaken about her dislike of something Lord Barclay had done. She’d been backing away from the man when he arrived. But she might be willing to forgive a transgression in a man she knew instead of acknowledging one she didn’t know. As they had not been introduced, she’d be within her rights to wave him off. If she denied him, however, he’d be at a loss as to how to proceed.

“I was about to take Miss Devereaux back to her mother, MacKay,” Barclay declared, impatience in his gravelly voice. “If you will excuse—”

“Were you indeed?” Sandy managed to put as much doubt into his tone as he dared. He glanced pointedly at the verandah door, where he suspected Barclay had been attempting to abscond with her. Well, he’d take care of that little scheme forthwith. He grinned widely into Barclay’s pinched face. “Then I’ve saved you the effort, haven’t I?”

Pursing his lips, Barclay seemed about ready to speak then, taking Sandy’s fixed gaze into consideration, turned to the lady. “Would you like for me to escort you, Miss Devereaux? I am more than willing to return you to your mother.”

The lady looked up at him, the frightened look smoothing out until she managed a small smile. “Thank you, Lord Barclay, but as my next partner is here, there is no need. I suspect a new set will be forming by the time we reach Mama.” She looked pointedly at Sandy’s arm and he hastily offered his elbow which she looped her arm through. “My thanks for a lovely waltz, my lord.”

The unexpected thrill of her touch made Sandy’s heart race. Beads of sweat popped out on his forehead. Thank God the room was warm enough to account for that, although he understood the heat came from within himself, not from the myriad bodies pressed together around them in the ballroom. It was all due to the petite woman now standing very close beside him, clutching his arm.

“Very well, Miss Devereaux.” His smile turned into a snarl. “MacKay.”

Sandy bowed, not wanting to hide his triumphant smile. “Barclay.”

The young lord huffed away, leaving Sandy suddenly alone with the entrancing Miss Devereaux. But what the devil was he going to do with her? The obvious thing rose to mind. “Miss Devereaux, would you like for me to return you to your mother?”

With a slight shake of her head, she steered them toward the doors of the verandah. “No, thank you…is it Lord MacKay?”

Mesmerized by the lady, Sandy managed a nod.

A frown marred her features. “I am sorry, but have we been introduced?” Her gaze continued to hold him. “I’m certain I would remember you.”

He prayed fervently that was true. Taking a deep breath, Sandy launched forth into his best version of an explanation for his bold actions. “Unfortunately not, Miss Devereaux, although I tried very hard to find Lady Winslow to ask her to introduce me to you. I was unsuccessful in that endeavor, so I must beg your pardon for my intrusion.”

Sandy hesitated. He’d been certain the lady was frightened of Barclay when he barged in between them, but now he began to doubt himself. Still, he must continue with the explanation. “I thought I noted you were in some distress from Lord Barclay’s proximity to you. A fictional dance set looked to be the best way to release you from his company.” He stopped and stared down into her perfect blue eyes. “If I was mistaken in the nature of your exchange, I am truly sorry for interrupting your private conversation.”

Miss Devereaux gave a furtive glance toward the dance floor, where the next set was indeed forming. She straightened her shoulders, then looked into his face, a determined look on her own. “Did you wish to dance this set with me, my lord?”

Catching his breath at the thought of having this lovely creature in his arms even for a few moments, Sandy smiled at her. “I would be forever grateful to be allowed to stand up with you, Miss Devereaux.” He peered into her face as it went from hopeful to despairing. “However, my desires are of no consequence at the moment. I will gladly forfeit that joy in order to do whatever you bid me do.”

At that, she gave him a trembling but genuine smile. “Then please take me out onto the verandah before my real partner discovers where I am and claims me.”

Chapter Two

Quivering, though she tried her best to stop, Isabelle regretted her words to Lord MacKay almost immediately. The gentleman was a total stranger. They hadn’t even been introduced properly and here she was allowing him to take her out onto a secluded verandah where who knew what liberties he might try to take with her. Still, if she didn’t get out of the stifling ballroom she might run screaming through Lady Winslow’s house out into the night.

Her waltz with Lord Barclay had been a dreadful mistake. She prayed her request to Lord MacKay wasn’t another one.

Clenching her teeth as she remembered the feeling of Lord Barclay’s hands squeezing her waist tightly during the dance, she swallowed quickly before her gorge could rise. She had to get out of here now. “Can we leave, please?”

“Of course.” Without another word, Lord MacKay led her toward the verandah doors, her current hope of heaven. She danced impatiently as he cast a glance over the ballroom, then hesitated. Leaning slightly toward her, he laughed then whispered, “Not yet. Lady Marksby is looking this way.”

Thank goodness for her escort’s cool head. Lady Marksby’s sharp eyes had ruined more than one young lady’s reputation.

“Now, go.” He opened the French doors just wide enough so her hoops could glide through them, then she was out in the night and its blessedly cool air.

Isabelle breathed as deeply as her tightly laced corset would allow, and a measure of calm descended on her. Here in the semi-darkness, she could convince herself that she was safe, that no one would harm her. She glanced at her escort, apprehension rising once more, but he made no move toward her. Still, caution won out and she retreated from him, putting several feet of distance between them and putting her into the shadows beyond the illumination of the overhead lanterns.

“Did Barclay hurt you in any way, Miss Devereaux?”

Isabelle couldn’t see Lord MacKay’s face, but the menace in his voice came through clear as day. She needed to tread carefully with this unknown entity. “Why no, my lord. Why would you think that?”