Ash didn’t much like that note of despair in her voice, or her look of defeat either. He would rather have Maura spitting fire than surrendering to frustration and disappointment.
When she shivered and rubbed her gloved arms, Ash knew that she’d finally become cognizant of her surroundings, now that her ire had eased somewhat. The spring night air was cooler here in the gardens and held a dampness that raised goose bumps on her exposed skin.
Reflexively, Ash slid his arm around her shoulders and drew her close. His gesture, although intended to be benevolent, was not exactly proper, and she stiffened accordingly.
“Hold your protests, Miss Collyer,” he advised lightly. “You need warmth, and I can provide it. I would do the same for my sister and cousin.”
Rather than argue, Maura accepted his offer of warmth and let his arm remain around her.
“I could loan you my coat,” Ash added in further explanation, “but it would do your reputation no good to be seen wearing my clothing when we return to the ball.”
“I confess surprise, my lord,” she rejoined with a hint of her usual spirit. “I thought you didn’t give a fig about propriety.”
“Ordinarily I don’t, but you are my guest after all.”
A short silence ensued while he held her, sharing his body heat. Despite his avowal of innocent motives, though, Ash realized that he wasn’t fooling himself; he was not feeling the least brotherly toward Maura. Not when he was so aware of her deliciously soft form pressing against his side.
He cleared his throat. “Perhaps I can assist you in dealing with Deering,” he suggested, as much to focus his attention elsewhere as from any conscious plan to aid her.
Glancing up with a look of surprise, Maura searched his face before answering. “Thank you, Lord Beaufort, but I believe in solving my own problems. Besides, Katharine has already put herself out enough on my behalf.”
Even though he admired her pluckiness in taking on the viscount, he wasn’t convinced she could handle the problem on her own. “What do you intend to do then?”
“I will think of something. I have no intention of leaving Emperor in his hands for long. But my body is too high a price to pay—” She broke off with a grimace and looked away again. “Here I am, going on and on about my private affairs that can be no concern of yours. Pray forgive me.”
She seemed rather embarrassed by her loosened tongue, Ash noticed. He doubted Maura was accustomed to sharing her intimate confidences in such detail. Moreover, she was correct; her affairs were none of his concern. And yet some chivalrous part of him balked at leaving her to face a lecher like Deering alone.
“You ought not reject my offer of assistance out of hand,” he advised. “As a peer, I have resources at my comma
nd that you do not.”
Evidently he had struck a nerve, for Maura went rigid again. “How well I know it,” she grated under her breath. “Wealthy, powerful noblemen can literally get away with murder. It galls me to have to beg the man who killed my father.”
Her wild claim voiced in that fierce tone took Ash aback, but he returned a measured reply. “That is a serious charge, my sweet witch. How do you know he was complicit in your father’s death?”
She gave a hard shrug. “Oh, I know he didn’t murder Papa directly. Just drove him into an early grave with his accusations of cheating. Papa’s heart gave way before he could clear his name, and the doctors believe the scandal was the prime cause.”
“I don’t think I ever heard the entire story,” Ash said leadingly.
“It is quite simple. Deering has coveted Emperor forever and frequently offered to purchase him, but Papa would never sell him. So in order to win our stallion, two years ago his lordship tried to force my father’s hand at the gaming tables. He lured Papa into a gambling den and then claimed he was playing with marked cards. Of course it was a brazen lie, but who would believe a commoner accused by a prominent nobleman?”
From the tense vibrations of her body, Ash knew she was getting angry all over again.
“And then to hear Deering boast tonight about his success …” Maura whispered. “It was like a knife to my chest. How I despise that contemptible man! It was all I could do to force myself to speak to him civilly.” She made a growling sound deep in her throat. “But I don’t know whether I am more furious at him or at my own impotence in fighting him.”
She hardly seemed helpless, Ash mused to himself, but he now understood her anger better. Maura not only blamed Deering for her father’s death, but the viscount’s underhanded appropriation of her stallion several weeks ago had only added insult to injury.
She was tense with fury now. When Ash felt another shudder of anger and loathing ripple through her body, he resolved to distract her from her wrath. Granted, his chosen method of distraction would probably unsettle her, but it was the most effective way he knew to jolt Maura out of her despondency and bring back her usual spirited temperament.
Yet it was only fair to give her proper warning, he decided.
“You need to take a deep breath, love.”
After a moment, she did as he bid, inhaling deeply and exhaling in a controlled rush.
“Again,” he ordered, waiting until she complied twice more. “Are you calm yet?”
“No, why?”