A Hasty Betrothal Read Free Page B

set brown eyes. He looked familiar.
    The duchess gestured to him. “This is Mr. Hawthorne. He owns a factory in Littleshire. His father and I were great friends.”
    â€œLord Wrottesley.” The earl held out his hand.
    â€œA pleasure,” said Miles, hiding his surprise. So this was Wrottesley’s father. Standing with her family... Did they not know of his debts? The man did possess a reputable lineage and a well-respected title. Though the family had come into hard times, possibly due to a streak of gambling that ran through their bloodlines, a well-matched marriage could fill their coffers once again.
    Elizabeth’s future was becoming alarmingly clear. Did John know of his parents’ machinations? Surely he wouldn’t approve such a match for his little sister.
    â€œI would not expect to see someone such as yourself at a ball. Are you looking for a wife?” Lady Dunlop fluttered her fan while waiting for Miles to answer.
    â€œNot at all. Lord Charleston and I are business acquaintances,” said Miles.
    Her nose wrinkled at the word business as though it might contaminate her reputation.
    Hiding his smile, he gave her a curt nod. “A pleasure.”
    Turning to the dowager duchess, he offered her a warmer smile. She responded by putting her quizzing glass to her eye. “Now that you’ve bought the Littleshire Mill, I expect to see you more often. It is between our estates, is it not?”
    â€œI’d hardly call my plot of land an estate,” he said.
    â€œIt’s your home.” She waved her glass through the air. “What it is called is neither here nor there. Now, did you find that bookish granddaughter of mine?”
    â€œShe went out to the gardens,” he murmured. “I was just on my way to fetch her.”
    â€œVery good. A ball is no place for a lady to wander off alone. And well she knows it.” The duchess sniffed, her powdered cheeks wiggling.
    â€œShe will return shortly.” Miles excused himself and continued his search for Wrottesley, but the man had disappeared. He threaded his way twice around the room before concluding that his quarry had meandered into the gardens.
    Where Elizabeth had claimed she’d go.
    He stepped outside, the humid air clinging to him like a tightly tied silk cravat. The recent spring shower served to muck his boots and hinder his walk through the grass to a stony path at the edge of the lawn. He believed there to be a pond nearby. If Bitt had gone there alone, she’d been unwise, for a young lady should always be chaperoned. She was testing her limits, he supposed, and he could not blame her for it.
    He had never known her to shirk duty or behave unwisely in the past.
    Wrottesley’s disappearance worried him, though. He strode along the path, his boots clipping the stones impatiently. The chirping of crickets and the full moon created urgency rather than calm. Bitt shouldn’t be out here alone. She ought to know better.
    He came to the end of the stone pathway, but there was nowhere to sit here and no sign of Bitt, only a quiet pond adorned with lily pads and the reflection of the moon. He turned, scanning the landscape until he caught sight of a gazebo on the other side of the pond. Movement rippled the shadows around it, and then a high-pitched gasp interrupted the steady song of the crickets.
    He bolted forward, pushing through the plants lining the walkway and finding another stone path that lead to the gazebo. His pulse thrummed in hot beats through him, his body strained to reach the sound of that anguished cry. It couldn’t be Bitt, he told himself as he ran down the path, but instinct told him it was her, and that she needed him.
    He finally cleared the path and emerged in front of the gazebo. One quick glance told him everything he needed to know. A man’s hands dug into Bitt’s arms. She was kicking his shins.
    He pounded up the stairs and yanked him away from Bitt.