The Defiant One Read Online Free PDF Page A

had been so rude to her just minutes before!   "Really, Lord Andrew, was that quite necessary?"
    He shrugged and slid his sword back into its scabbard.  "You looked as though you needed rescuing."
    "And you looked as though you were leaving!"
    "I was.  I forgot my hat."
    "Well, let me tell you something, my lord.  I am no spineless ninny, no birdbrained puff of feathers who needs some man around to protect her.  I can fight my own battles, thank you very much!"
    And with that, she turned on her heel and stormed back inside.
     

 
    Chapter 3
     
    So much for gratitude , thought Andrew, watching her march back toward the ballroom.  He noted the stiffness of her back beneath shimmering peach silk, the way her petticoats flirted with her trim ankles, the purposeful manner in which she moved — like a general taking command of his troops.  A door slammed and she was gone from sight.
    Shrugging, he retrieved his hat, tucked it under his arm, and strode back out into the frosty night.
    Prickly witch.
    Bloody irritating little bluestocking!
    He wished the devil he'd taken his own carriage.  Now he was forced to wait out here in the cold for Nerissa and Lucien for God only knew how long.  Why the hell had he ever allowed them to talk him into coming to this foolish ball, anyhow?
    He should have just stayed home.
    He located the ducal coach near the front of the line of vehicles, its paint as black as the sky above.  An alert footman ran to let down the steps for him.  Andrew vaulted inside and threw himself down on the seat, his breath frosting the cold air.  Pulling a blanket around himself, he sat staring into the close darkness.
    His anger did not last long.  It couldn't, not with the ever-present fear that lurked just below the surface, keeping him aware of the fact that he was flawed, reminding him all too often, as it had done tonight, that there was something very, very wrong with him.  Something that was not getting any better with time.  Without the anger to sustain him, and surrounded by the darkness of a quiet night while the faraway strains of music and laughter — making him feel excluded, reminding him of the normalcy and safety of other people's lives, making him feel all the more alone — reached him, he felt the fear clawing for a hold on his heart.  His nerves.  His composure.  He thought about the incident in the ballroom, and wiping a hand over his face, found it damp with nervous sweat.
    God help me . . . I feel so alone.
    He thought about going back inside to try and lose himself in the gaiety of the crowd, but immediately discounted the notion.  Someone must surely have noticed his strange behavior.
    He thought about getting out of the coach and walking and walking and walking until he was too tired to be afraid, but the idea was not appealing.
    Finally he pulled out his notebook and tried to lose himself in his work, trying not to think of what the inside of Bedlam must look like.
    He shuddered.  Lucien would not commit him, would he?
    Would he?
    Putting the notebook down, Andrew leaned his cheek against the cold glass of the window and, shivering beneath the blanket, stared miserably out into the night.
    ~~~~
    As he crossed the foyer, Gerald saw his stepsister storm upstairs, her old dog Freckles, hampered by equally old joints, trailing in her wake.  A moment later he heard a door slam.  The noise was so loud that it was clearly audible over the music that had a hundred people out on the dance floor.
    He suspected the worst.
    And sure enough, there was Sir Harold Bonkley, his face equally flushed, but with what looked like humiliation, stalking towards him from out of the ballroom.
    "Well?" said Gerald, impatiently.
    Bonkley snared a drink.  "She refused me."
    "Damn it, man, I thought you were going to publicly compromise her so that I could come upon you and demand that you marry her!"
    "Well, things didn't work out as we planned."
    Gerald was furious.  "We had an agreement ,