By Julia Quinn
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Extra resources for Dancing at Midnight (Blydon Series 02)
He blinked, suddenly remembering her question about running through Ashbourne's house barefoot. "I suppose one can do anything one wants if one is related to a duke," he finally replied, somewhat sharply. Belle drew back, a little hurt by his tone. But two could play at that game. "Yes, I suppose one can," she said, lifting her chin up a notch. John felt like a cad. But he didn't apologize. It was probably better if she thought him a boor. He had no business getting involved with her, and it would be so, so easy to let himself do so.
John sighed, glad to be rid of this man who had always been such an annoyance in his company. He'd never liked Spencer, but he was a decent soldier, and England needed all of those she could get her hands on. He finished his meal and pushed the plate across the table. The food had been tasty, but nothing seemed to satisfy him anymore. Perhaps another glass of whiskey. Oh, now he was drunk. Really drunk. There were, he supposed, still a few things for which to thank the Lord. He let his head slump down toward the table.
She should have known this was going to happen. She stopped, trying to force herself to turn around and head west. Or north or south or north by northwest or anything but east. But her feet refused to obey, and she trudged onward, trying to excuse her behavior by telling herself that she only knew how to get to Blondwood Manor by way of the main road, and here she was going through woods, so she probably wouldn't ever get there anyway. She frowned. It wasn't called Blondwood Manor. But for the life of her, she couldn't remember what it was called.