The Tyrant Read Online Free

particularly unpleasant sneer twisted The Tyrant’s thin lips. She was staring again, as she had when first they met. He must judge her a very ill-mannered girl. She sank quickly into a curtsy. He bowed over her hand, and said drily, “Enchanted, ma’am,” in a deep voice, the tone of which also said, ‘you silly creature.’
    Phoebe thought, ‘Much help we shall get from this cold fish,’ but she turned her most dazzling smile on him and said coquettishly, “My dear papa says you have been fairly frantic to make my acquaintance, Mr. Carruthers.”
    Sir George looked mildly discomfited.
    Carruthers replied with slightly bored courtesy, “Who would not be, ma’am?”
    â€œFlatterer.” She retreated behind her fan. “Oh, dear! Here comes my lord Olderwood, and I am much too tired to dance again. Perhaps you will be so kind as to take me out onto the terrace, dear sir, so that we may chat in the cool air. It is so very excessive warm in here.”
    Carruthers looked stunned, but extended his arm dutifully, and she took it and pulled him gently towards the outer hall.
    He said, “I had thought you wished to go onto the terrace, Miss Ramsay.”
    â€œYes. But not that one. We shall be stopped by everybody, and I am—er, very weary of it all.”
    She knew that her father was positively goggling at her, for not only did she love a party, but she was renowned for her ability to dance the whole night away and never show a sign of weariness. She smiled warmly at Sir George, and started off.
    Complying with her request, Carruthers led her into the main hall. She glanced up and saw that his lips were tight, and was not surprised when he observed with rather tactless bluntness, “If it is Lord Olderwood’s dance, ma’am, you should grant it him. I had no intent to monopolize you.”
    â€œPerhaps not,” she murmured, “but I mean to monopolize you, Mr. Carruthers.”
    She felt him start, and the pale blue eyes slanted down at her, a wary light dawning.
    â€œI think I do not follow you, Miss Ramsay,” he said, his steps slowing.
    â€œNo, but you must,” she said, pulling at his arm without compunction and saying with low urgency, “I am desperately in need of your help. No, never look so aghast, I have no designs upon you, I promise. Only come. A friend of yours has arrived and wishes to see you. Now do not stand like a block! The servants are staring. Walk, sir! Left—right, left—right!”
    He frowned, but a gleam of amusement crept into the pale eyes and he did as she asked. “I wonder why I have the unhappy premonition that I am about to be involved in something outrageous,” he murmured. But when they came to the deserted east hall and Phoebe started down it, he halted, the smile in his eyes that she had thought oddly attractive dying away. “No, really, ma’am. This is insupportable. With all due respect, I must remind you of the construction that will be placed upon my taking you off like this.”
    â€œOh, pox on what people will say!” She tugged at his arm. “ Do come along!”
    His hand closed over her own. He stood quite still, his face stern and unyielding. “Madam, I am not one for convention, but I think I will refuse to compromise a lady I have never before met. Not another step until you at least tell me the name of this—er, ‘friend.’”
    She could have shaken him, but, knowing he was justified, glanced around, then hissed, “It is—Lance.”
    â€œGood God!” he gasped, clearly astonished. “But why the secrecy, ma’am? Why does he not come—”
    â€œHe is—in trouble. Oh, now will you come?”
    He made no response but accompanied her so briskly that she almost had to run to keep up with him. In only a few minutes they had escaped the house and were entering the trees.
    Carruthers groaned, “If we