The Lord and his Lady (Forbidden #2)

Chapter Forty Four

The whispers and looks came at full force, intent on making her uneasy. Belinha wasn't sure she would ever get used to it—or if they would ever stop looking at her as if she was not of the same species, bleeding the same, of the same make.

As if she was back at the question, ready to be sold to the highest bidder.

Lord Everston greeted Lord Caldwell, Lady Delafort and Lord Beau with great cordiality and looked at her with great interest. He was a heavy set man with baggy eyes under otherwise bright brown eyes that looked golden under the candle chandeliers. His loud voice seemed to carry throughout his entire house, echoing off all the walls and overpowering every conversation even though no one seemed bothered by it because of his kind manners.

Her feet were immediately turned toward the large pillar and the alcove near the refreshment room where she could hide away. Lord Caldwell obstructed her beeline that way, the grin showing her he knew of her plan, and gestured for her to venture further inside.

She followed him reluctantly, not raising her eyes from the squeaking polished floors, barely only seeing the top of breeches and frothing of skirts being stamped on or pinned from slight tears.

"Go back to whence you came, negro," someone hissed. Belinha shut her eyes tight, wanting nothing more than the ground to swallow her up. In the action, however, she ended up bumping into a solid back making her stumble back.

Lord Caldwell had stopped walking and turned an intense, fevered stare at the man that had said it. "My guest is right where she belongs, my good sir. Is there something else you'd like to give your unwanted opinion on?"

Belinha's mouth went dry. The last thing she wanted was attention. She was about to run away when his hand came up to the small of her back, urging her wordlessly to stay.

"This coloured woman is your guest?" he all but spat.

"I don't see how that would be of any issue to you."

"It would be, since she cannot be part of our polite society."

"Because she is coloured? Well, that is not very polite, is it?" asked Lord Caldwell with a snort of sarcastic, humourless laughter that didn't go unnoticed by all who witnessed the scene. "I wonder why Lord Everston decided to invite the village idiot to his home. One can never cease to understand what pity toward uneducated buffoons does to a man."

The lady that had accompanied him giggled behind her fan and the man opened and closed his mouth like a fish.

Lord Caldwell sported his easygoing grin and swept his hand forward, not before leaning in to whisper. "Come, Miss Price, let's make haste before he comes back with a vengeance. I'm afraid I don't have enough liquor in me to get into another brawl."

After he successfully took her away from the crowded drawing room, she stood by the fireplace. "I should thank you for that, but you shouldn't have risked your reputation for me."

"Really, Miss Price, you should abstain from making speeches of gratefulness if they are as half-hearted as that one." He opened his mouth, apparently about to add to it but then closed it. With a soft sigh, he bowed and left her there. All she could do was stare at his back, wanting to tell him to stay, to tell him that every word he said made her heart jump in a way she couldn't explain.

But she couldn't, and so she watched him leave to speak with Lord Everston and the other gentlemen.

Compared to other suitably dressed men, she had to praise him internally for standing out in a very neutral way; he wore a tight-fitting charcoal frock coat that sit snugly across his slender body, ending just above his knees, with a matching waistcoat, tie and trousers that narrowed his built legs and made him look so effortlessly...effortless.