CHAPTER THREE
Safely ensconced in the ladies’ lounge, Daphne gave her reflection a firm look in the mirror. Having taken a moment to steady herself, she knew what she had to do, and it did not include one more moment of hiding in here. She had faltered for a moment, but she was no coward. She had to go out there and talk to him.
Talk…to the Demon Marquess.
She swallowed hard at the prospect. Her ladylike sensibilities protested at the notion of approaching a man to whom she had not been properly introduced. But if Albert had told him lies about her, her pride insisted on defending her reputation, at least to him.
Why she cared so much what this stranger thought of her, she dared not examine. She preferred to tell herself it was simply a matter of etiquette. The man had saved her life yesterday. The least that she could do was go and say thank you.
Gliding back out to the ball, she moved with a graceful but alert stride, glancing around for him watchfully from behind her open fan.
He was no longer standing in the doorway of the crowded dining hall, nor did she see him in the ballroom. Daphne frowned. Where had he gone? Just when she was starting to fear she had missed her chance, she spotted him striding down a lonely marble hallway toward a side door off Edgecombe House. He’s leaving?
Oh—dash! She picked up her skirts and hastened after him, her heartbeat quickening in time with the soft pattering rhythm of her satin-slippered footfalls. Her stare was glued to the broad V of his back.
Say something! she ordered herself. He’s getting away!
He was almost to the few stairs at the end of the corridor. These led up into a small foyer before a less-used door. She knew she had to stop him, but Daphne now found herself ridiculously tongue-tied.
Oh, this was so unlike her. “Um--excuse me.” Her voice came out as barely a whisper, too soft for him to hear. She rushed after him, determined to try again--not that she had any idea of what she’d do with such a dangerous man once she had caught him.