Free A Virtuous Lady by Elizabeth Thornton Page A

now . . ." She left the sentence unfinished. Her voice vibrated with disdain. "I never thought to meet such cruelty from any man, least of all from a man of honor. You are contemptible. I despise you!" His hand dropped from her face as if it had been stung, and Briony wrenched herself out of his arms and flung out of the room.
    His lordship sat down in the depths of the sofa. He would wait ten minutes or so, he thought, before following her. No need to rouse the suspicions of the whole ton. Let her cool her heels for a bit. He reached inside his coat pocket and retrieved a cigar. He lit it absently and drew smoothly on it. He really had no idea how to proceed if he wished to capture this girl. He closed his eyes and considered. She was beyond reason. How could she believe that his offer was insulting? He was destined to be a duke and she , to put it plainly, a chit of no consequence. Is that what she was after? His title and fortune? Was she just another scheming wench after all? No. That was out of the question! Every instinct, every nerve recoiled from such a suggestion. Miss Briony Langland was simply a virtuous lady. Damn it, he didn't wish her to be unvirtuous . Why couldn't she understand?
    It began to be borne in on his lordship that he had lost not only a battle but probably the war as well. What a devil of a coil to be in! The word "nemesis" came unbidden to his mind. He chewed on his lip unthinkingly. Avery, he thought, would die laughing.

Chapter Seven
     
    When Briony flung away from Ravensworth, her one thought was to be rid of all the cruelly indifferent people who had inflicted such wounding humiliation upon her from the first moment she had crossed the threshold of the grand house. She pushed her way roughly through the crowded dining room, half expecting to feel Ravensworth's hateful hand upon her shoulder, but nothing impeded her precipitous flight. A few startled glances alighted upon her fleetingly as she elbowed her way through the crush, but the ton took little interest in the doings of a negligible quizz .
    When she reached the large foyer, she hesitated, unsure of how best to accomplish her escape. Her warm mantle was in the ladies' cloakroom and it took her less than a minute to retrieve it and hasten past the startled porter who was guarding the entrance.
    It never occurred to Briony to apprise Harriet or Aunt Sophy of her intentions. Her emotions were in such a tumult that she was far from considering the matter in a rational light. Briony was beside herself with fury and shame. Clutching her mantle firmly to her, she struck out across Cavendish Square, having no clear idea of where she was heading, nor did she care. She wanted only to put as much distance between herself and the despicable Marquess as she possibly could.
    A cruel wind whipped her small figure, and Briony put her head down to escape its icy blast, but her pace never slackened for a moment. She was half running in her delirium, oblivious to everything but the host of confused thoughts which chased themselves across her mind. She did not hear the approach of the carriage nor the furious oath of the coachman until she was directly in the path of the rearing, screaming horses. By the time she was alerted to her danger, it was too late. She tried instinctively to twist away, but the hooves of the lead animal lashed out and struck her a glancing blow on the back, sending her spinning. She fell headlong on the road, the breath knocked out of her. She was half conscious of the commotion coming from the coach as doors slammed and the passengers called out their alarm. Briony attempted to rise to her knees, but she had not the strength. She looked up to see three anxious female faces hovering over her—the most beautiful faces that she had ever beheld in her life. She gave a tremulous smile. "Are you muses or angels?" she asked weakly before a dizzying blackness descended upon her.
     
    Briony's eyelashes fluttered. She really did not wish