Page 35 of Lady Farah Creates a Scandal (The Season of Secrets #2)
Suddenly, it was imperative for Rockwell to return to the ballroom and protect what was his. He made his way round to the terrace and entered from there so no one could link his disappearance to Farah’s. He’d been out for a cheroot. That was all.
He’d only just stepped onto the terrace when the sight before him made the blood run cold in his veins.
“Lord Ware, I wondered if I’d see you here tonight. I thought it most likely, given you were the one who found Lord Lucien and brought him home. I cannot believe it.”
“Mrs. Ahearn, what a surprise to see you here in London,” he uttered as he bent low over the gloved hand she’d extended.
“May I introduce you to my sister, Lady Hampton? I didn’t have time to inform you when I saw you in Dublin that I would be visiting.”
Blast he’d forgotten her sister was married to Baron Hampton. He had to warn Farah and Ashley. Mrs. Ahearn could ruin everything. She thought Farah was Ashley and if that was revealed, all would be ruined.
“Lady Hampton, you look as lovely as ever. However, I think the chill of the night, while refreshing, is a little brisk for my liking. Shall we go back inside?”
“You are quite right, Lord Ware. But Fiona thought I looked a tad peaky and the fresh air has helped.” She patted her stomach and Rockwell understood. She was with child and the heat in the ballroom was a tad overbearing.
He ushered the ladies back inside and scanned the room. He stayed talking for a polite minute before he really had to find Farah.
*
Farah plastered on her brightest smile, all the while scanning the room for any sign of disaster. And by disaster, she meant one very specific person: Mrs. Ahearn from Ireland.
When Rockwell had informed her that the spirited Irish widow had arrived with her sister to tonight’s ball, Farah had nearly fainted dead away.
It was bad enough that she’d had to pretend to be Ashley during their impromptu Irish adventure, but now she had to somehow prevent Mrs. Ahearn from meeting the real Ashley while simultaneously keeping her brother in the dark about the whole sordid affair.
“It’s simple,” Ivy had assured her as she gathered Ivy and Ashley to her side and told them the disturbing news. “We just need to keep you and Ashley on opposite sides of the ballroom. What could possibly go wrong? If she meets Ashley, we will introduce her as you, and vice versa.”
Farah had given her friend a look that could have curdled milk. “Have you met us? We don’t look alike and we are in different colored gowns. Plus, I’m the hostess. She’s likely to want an introduction.” She’d added drily, “Besides, what if she’s with someone who knows who we are?”
Now, as she navigated the crowded ballroom, Farah felt like a character in one of those ridiculous farces her brother so enjoyed at the theater. All that was missing was someone losing their trousers.
She spotted Ashley across the room, looking radiant in a gown of pale blue. Their eyes met, and Ashley gave an almost imperceptible nod before turning in the opposite direction. So far, so good.
“Lady Farah!” a familiar voice called out, nearly causing her to jump out of her skin.
She turned to find Lord Lucien approaching, a tired smile on his handsome face.
“Thank you for holding the ball for me. But I hope you’ll not be offended if I beg off early.
I know I’m the guest of honor, but it has been rather overwhelming. ”
Farah felt her cheeks warm as all eyes turned their way. “I hope Lady Courtney and your family were adequate support? And I’m sorry I haven’t been by your side most of the night, but as the hostess…”
“I’ll forgive you if you indulge me for a moment.
” His eyes bored into hers and then lifted to scan the room, noting the attention they were receiving.
“I may not remember much, but apparently my feet still know how to dance. Could I beg a dance before I retire? I suspect the crowd is waiting to see me take to the floor.” He held out his hand in invitation.
For a moment, Farah was tempted. But then she caught sight of a flash of red hair near the refreshment table—Mrs. Ahearn.
“Oh, I’d love to, truly,” she said quickly.
“However, don’t you feel your first dance tonight should be with Lady Courtney?
” She gestured towards the far side of the room. “She is more deserving.”
Lucien’s brow furrowed, but before he could respond, Farah had already darted away, weaving through the crowd like a hunted rabbit. She would not embarrass Courtney like that, and she needed to escape Mrs. Ahearn.
She nearly collided with Rockwell, who steadied her with a hand on her elbow. “Easy there,” he murmured, his eyes sparkling with barely suppressed laughter. “One might think you were running from something.”
“Or someone,” Farah hissed, glancing over her shoulder. “It’s not funny. Why are you taking this so casually? Your friend Mrs. Ahearn—Fiona—is here, and she’s headed this way!”
Rockwell’s eyes widened. “Quick, behind the potted palm!”
Without thinking, Farah allowed him to steer her towards a large decorative plant. It was only when she found herself pressed rather intimately against Rockwell’s broad chest, peering out between the fronds, that she realized the absurdity of their position.
“This is ridiculous,” she whispered, trying to ignore the warmth of his body against hers. “We can’t spend the entire evening hiding behind shrubbery. Can’t you think of some way to make her leave? She was your paramour once. Can’t you seduce her into leaving?”
“I’d rather seduce you,” Rockwell replied, his breath tickling her ear.
“I find it rather cozy here. There’s a thought though.
Fiona’s here with her sister, Lady Hampton who is newly with child and feeling unwell.
Perhaps I could persuade Lady Hampton to leave early.
” His hand slipped to her waist and squeezed.
Farah elbowed him sharply in the ribs, eliciting a satisfying grunt. “Focus, please. How could you make her leave early? We need a plan.”
Just then, they heard Mrs. Ahearn’s distinctive laugh nearby. “Oh, but you must introduce me to your sister Ashley, Lord Wolfarth! I’ve been simply dying to meet her again.”
Farah and Rockwell exchanged panicked glances. “Distraction,” Farah mouthed silently.
Rockwell nodded, a mischievous glint in his eye. “I’ll guide her to her sister and suggest she looks unwell and to think of the baby.” Before Farah could stop him, he’d slipped out from behind the palm and approached Mrs. Ahearn with a flourish.
“My dear Mrs. Ahearn!” he exclaimed, perhaps a touch too loudly.
“I wonder if you’d let me introduce you to some friends of mine.
” As Mrs. Ahearn sputtered in surprise, Farah took the opportunity to escape from her leafy hideout and make her way across the ballroom.
She caught sight of Ashley and made a series of frantic hand gestures she hoped conveyed Danger!
Red-haired Irish widow approaching! Retreat!
Whether Ashley understood the message or simply thought Farah was having some sort of fit was unclear, but she turned and head towards the terrace, which was good enough for now.
Farah breathed a sigh of relief, only to nearly jump out of her skin when a hand touched her shoulder. She whirled around to find her brother, the duke, regarding her with a mixture of amusement and concern.
“Are you quite all right, sister?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “You seem rather…jumpy this evening.”
“Jumpy? Me?” Farah let out a high-pitched laugh that sounded unhinged even to her own ears. “Don’t be silly, brother. I’m as calm as a…a very calm thing.”
The duke’s other eyebrow joined the first. “Indeed. Well, in that case, perhaps you’d like to join me in greeting some of our guests?
There’s a delightful Irish widow I’d like you to meet, Mrs. Ahearn.
She met with Ashley and Rockwell while in Ireland and helped them so she’s part of the story I believe. ”
Farah felt the blood drain from her face. “Oh, I’d love to, truly,” she said, frantically searching for an excuse. “But I’m afraid I must… that is there is an issue with the punch. I’ll seek you out later.”
Before the duke could respond, Farah had darted away, leaving him staring after her in bewilderment.
She made it halfway across the ballroom before disaster struck. In her haste, she failed to notice a rather rotund gentleman backing up from the refreshment table, his attention focused on the plate of canapés. They collided with all the grace of two drunken elephants attempting a waltz.
Farah let out a most unladylike yelp as she stumbled, her arms pinwheeling wildly. She might have maintained her balance had her foot not caught in the hem of her gown. Instead, she fell backwards, arms flailing, directly towards the punch bowl.
Time seemed to slow as Farah saw her life flash before her eyes. She could already imagine the mortification, the scandal, the way the red punch would clash horribly with her emerald gown…
And then, miraculously, she felt strong arms catch her just before impact. She looked up into the concerned face of Lord Lucien, who had apparently materialized out of thin air to save her from a watery and fruity doom.
“Are you all right?” he asked, helping her regain her footing.
Farah nodded, too breathless to speak. She was acutely aware of every eye in the ballroom upon them, and she could practically hear the gossips sharpening their tongues.
“Oh my,” a familiar voice rang out. “Is everything all right, dear?”
Farah turned, her heart sinking, to find Mrs. Ahearn approaching, the Duke of Blackstone on her arm. This was it. The moment she’d been dreading all evening. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. She was about to be exposed as a fraud in front of the entire ton.