by Meara Platt
She couldn’t.
“No, Ronan. He isn’t coming back to me.” She blinked away tears, not even certain why it hurt her so much. Perhaps she had forced herself into believing they could be as happy as Holly and Joshua were. She had only to look around the room to see how many of her Farthingale relatives had made love matches.
All of them.
Starlight shone in their eyes.
Gerald had never displayed so much as a flicker for her. Thinking on it now, it was obvious he had never been in love with her despite his words to the contrary. Why had it taken her so long to realize it?
Their courtship, if it even was that, had been a pretense. She had been a fool to believe it would ever lead to a happy and loving marriage.
So had Gerald, perhaps.
Well, she wasn’t certain what had been on Gerald’s mind. Perhaps he only meant to occupy his time with her until someone better came along.
“Dahlia,” Ronan said, his voice deep and tender, “don’t you dare shed a tear over that worthless bounder.”
“It’s all my fault. I should have refused to dance with you.”
“You got the pea, and I got the bean. It was our sacred obligation to dance together. If Wainscott does not understand this and seeks to hurt you for indulging in a harmless Twelfth Night bit of fun, then I can only repeat, the clot does not deserve you.”
The music had stopped, and couples were beginning to walk off the dance floor. Ronan was preparing to walk her back to her Aunt Sophie, but she shook her head. “No, I think I need a moment to myself.”
She cast him a smile, hoping she did not appear as fragile as she now felt, and made her way out of the room. Although her back was to Ronan, she knew he was staring at her and worrying over her because this is what guardian angels did.
For this reason, she took her time strolling out and doing her best to hold herself together. She knew his protective instincts had to be flaring again and did not want him to follow her out.
It was odd how well she understood him. They had gotten to know each other fairly well over the past few months, especially while Holly and Joshua were falling in love and realizing they could not exist one without the other. It was quite a beautiful thing, and she was so happy for her sister.
Of course, she and Ronan held no such romantic notions about each other.
She caught sight of Gerald slipping into the library and called out to him, but he must not have heard her because he hurried in and shut the door behind him.
Dahlia wasn’t certain what to do.
She stood in the hall and glanced around. The house was crowded, guests packed into the main rooms, and some were even spilling into the hall.
Why had Gerald felt the urgent need to disappear into the library?
Perhaps she ought to wait for him to come out.
She doubted he’d gone in to read a book in the middle of the party. Gerald was not particularly introspective and enjoyed being the center of attention.
Sighing, she decided not to overthink the matter. Knocking lightly, she waited to the count of three and walked in. “Gerald, I–”
She blinked, taking a moment to understand what she was looking at. Gerald was up against the shelves, his body pressed against Lady Alexandra, his pants down about his ankles, and her gown pushed up around her waist. “I…” The breath rushed out of her. Her madly, pounding heart shot into her throat.
She felt ill.
The pair scrambled to put themselves in order. “Bloody hell,” Gerald muttered with a snarl.
She turned to run out and slammed straight into Ronan’s solid chest. He caught her before she could bounce off him and tumble backward. “What’s going on here?”
Of course, being no dullard, he quickly realized what had just occurred. He curled his hands into fists at his sides. “I’m going to hit him.”
“Don’t you dare!” Dahlia tipped her chin up in the air. “I will handle this.”
Ronan eyed her dubiously. “You are out of your depth here. Let me–”
“No.” She stepped in front of him. “Captain Brayden, I will not have you interfering.”
He clenched his jaw, obviously wanting to take charge of the situation. After a moment, he gave a curt nod. “But I’m not leaving.”
“Dahlia has only herself to blame for this.” Gerald immediately went on the offensive, which might have been more effective had he not been doing up the last buttons on his trousers as he feigned outrage.
What gall!
Ronan growled.
She cast him a warning glance.
But Gerald seemed to have a death wish, for he would not keep his mouth shut. “Her conduct was unbecoming, and I will no longer tolerate it.”
“Mine? Are you jesting?” she sputtered. “Don’t be ridiculous. That Queen Pea silliness is a harmless holiday tradition. Over and done with now. Is this all you wish to say to me after all the years of our acquaintance?”
“No, there is one more thing.” He cast her an imperious look, seeming not to care that they were now starting to draw a crowd. More important, he seemed not to notice that Ronan had gone deathly still. But she had and was now worried about it. Ronan was not patiently listening to Gerald. He was an uncaged beast about to pounce on him and rip out his throat.
Ronan’s simmering rage was a palpable thing. She could feel his tension in the sudden crackle in the air. Oh, dear. Could she hold him back if he decided to take matters into his own hands? She did not think so.
His jaw was still clenched.
“I had hoped your coming to London would give you some polish,” Gerald continued, his manner snide and condescending, “but I realize this will never happen. You will never be elegant or sophisticated. My parents warned me that you would prove an endless source of embarrassment. I see now they were right. I wish you well, Dahlia. But do not expect me ever to call on you again.”
Dahlia felt like a fool as more guests began to gather in the hall and were now elbowing each other out of the way to peer into the library and watch the bloodbath going on. Her blood. And Gerald was thoroughly dunking her in that bath.
Ronan turned to the onlookers and cast them a warning glance. He was not going to let any of them in.
As for her, she stood there gaping like a fool, too stunned to respond.
Perhaps she ought to have allowed Ronan to handle the situation. She was just standing there like an idiot and taking his verbal barbs. She wanted to say something tremendously clever and cutting, but words failed her.
Gerald could have taken her aside privately to say this. But it seemed his pettiness knew no bounds. He was the one in the wrong. He’d been caught with another woman and was now insulting her in front of her entire family just to be hurtful.
Ronan placed his hand to the small of her back and wordlessly drew her behind him.
He strode toward Gerald. “Wainscott…” He smashed his fist into Gerald’s face, then strode back to her side. “Sorry, Dahlia. I had to do it.”
She groaned. “No, you didn’t.”
What had Ronan accomplished other than to make himself feel better? It wasn’t helping her to see Gerald on his knees in the middle of the library with blood gushing from his nose. She drew out her handkerchief and handed it to him, not that she cared a whit for this man who had done nothing but belittle her since she’d arrived in London.
She gave him the handkerchief because she did not want him dripping blood on the beautiful carpet she had helped pick out not two months ago.
Lady Alexandra rushed over and knelt by his side. “My darling!”
Her darling?
Could this get any worse?
Ronan’s hand was at her waist again.
Comforting.
Protective.
“Miss Farthingale,” Lady Alexandra said, “this is most awkward, but you may as well know the rest of it. There’s no point in keeping it quiet now that we’ve been caught in this compromising situation. Lord Wainscott and I hav
e been secretly betrothed for a month now. Unofficially, that is. We dared not make the official announcement before the betrothal contract was signed, which it was yesterday.”
Her words were like a punch to Dahlia’s face. “What?”
“I’m so sorry. I did not think it was fair to keep it from you. But Lord Wainscott insisted. You must realize he was never yours. He never considered marrying you. But I do apologize it had to come out this way. Come, Gerald. Father and I will take you home now.”
Dahlia moved aside to allow Alexandra’s father in. At the same time, she took Ronan’s hand and drew him aside, purposely keeping her fingers entwined in his until Gerald and the Mintons quit the room. She did not want him doing anything else to the oaf while he was in a seething rage.
Let him think she was a meek flower in need of his support.
It was not very far off the mark.
She had never seen a man look as angry as Ronan looked now. His eyes were ablaze, and if he were a tea kettle, he would have had steam pouring from his ears. “Bollocks,” he said with a heartfelt groan, pity for her situation etched in his handsome features, “I’m so sorry, Dahlia. I did not see that one coming.”
“Nor did I.” She shoved her way through the crowd and ran from the room in tears.
The Gift of Love coming soon – please subscribe to www.dragonbladepublishing.com for updates
Also by Meara Platt
FARTHINGALE SERIES
My Fair Lily
The Duke I’m Going To Marry
Rules For Reforming A Rake
A Midsummer’s Kiss
The Viscount’s Rose
Earl Of Hearts
If You Wished For Me
Never Dare A Duke
Capturing The Heart Of A Cameron
BOOK OF LOVE SERIES
The Look of Love
The Touch of Love
The Taste of Love
The Song of Love
The Scent of Love
The Kiss of Love
The Chance of Love
The Gift of Love
The Heart of Love
The Hope of Love (novella)
DARK GARDENS SERIES
Garden of Shadows
Garden of Light
Garden of Dragons
Garden of Destiny
THE BRAYDENS
A Match Made In Duty
Earl of Westcliff
Fortune’s Dragon
Earl of Kinross
Pearls of Fire*
(*also in Pirates of Britannia series)
Aislin
Gennalyn
DeWOLFE PACK ANGELS SERIES
Nobody’s Angel
Kiss An Angel
Bhrodi’s Angel
About the Author
Meara Platt is a USA Today bestselling author and an award winning, Amazon UK All-star. Her favorite place in all the world is England’s Lake District, which may not come as a surprise since many of her stories are set in that idyllic landscape, including her award-winning paranormal romance Dark Gardens series. If you’d like to learn more about the ancient Fae prophecy that is about to unfold in the Dark Gardens series, as well as Meara’s lighthearted, international bestselling Regency romances in the Farthingale series, Book of Love series, and the Braydens series, please visit Meara’s website at www.mearaplatt.com.
