Ewan inclined his head toward the duchess, ceding her the point, though he must clench his jaw to do it.
“Then we are in agreement,” she said, smiling. Her smile was rather like her daughter’s, and he could almost picture what she might have looked like when she’d been a carefree girl dancing the night away. “And whatever happened in the park”—the fan fluttered in front of her face—“will not be mentioned again.” She held up her hand before he might protest. “I do not know what happened, but I do know my daughter. I have no objection to kissing. Every woman should be kissed senseless at least once in her life, but knowing my daughter’s passionate nature, once is more than enough outside the bounds of matrimony. And so, whether that kiss came from you or another man is irrelevant to me so long as it does not occur again.”
He sucked in a long breath, feeling appropriately chastised. “Yes, Your Grace.”
“Good.” She smiled again and snatched two glasses of champagne from a passing footman. To Ewan’s surprise, she handed them to him. “Drink these. They won’t have any effect on you. I suppose you would have to drink several bottles to feel the effect, but at least you will have something to do with your arms other than display those impressive muscles.”
Leaving him with the champagne glasses, she fluttered away, across the room to the man she’d been smiling at. Ewan downed both glasses of champagne in quick succession. He would never understand women. No wonder the duke sought refuge in the card room. Ewan would have liked to go to the Draven Club and stay a week.
Instead, he grabbed two more glasses of champagne and held them stiffly at his sides, while he attempted to watch Lady Lorraine without looking quite as menacing.
Since the duchess did not return to chastise him, he thought he’d succeeded admirably well until about four in the morning. He was not weary in the least, although his stomach had been steadily complaining for the last hour, but the more he watched Lady Lorraine, the more he could see fatigue had overtaken her. Her smile was forced, her face pale, and her eyes a bit too large for her face.
When the clock struck four, Ewan did what he thought any bodyguard ought, which was to down the glasses of champagne he’d held for the last two hours and march across the dance floor to take the lady’s arm. The couples parted for him without comment, and he reached her easily.
Her back had been to him, and she hadn’t seen him coming. Her partner had, however, and instead of bowing, as the next form dictated, he darted behind the lady to his right.
Coward.
Lady Lorraine turned then, but it was too late. Ewan took her arm and swept her away.
“What on earth are you doing?” she asked, struggling in vain to free herself from his grip.
“Taking you home.” He pointed to a footman who ran over. “The Duke of Ridlington’s carriage.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“I’m not a lord.”
“Yes, sir.” The man scurried away.
Ewan pointed to another footman, who turned pale but made haste to reach Ewan’s side. “The Duke and Duchess of Ridlington.”
“What about them, sir?”
Ewan stared at him. The man shrank back. “Sir?”
“I believe he wants you to fetch them,” Lady Lorraine said. While the servant made his escape, the lady finally wriggled free of Ewan’s hold. Or rather, he allowed her to free herself. “Why are you frightening the servants? And why fetch my parents? The ball is not yet over.”
“It is over for you.”
She went on as though he hadn’t spoken. “Not to mention you have made a spectacle of me. And of yourself, for that matter.”
Ewan raised a brow at her.
“How do you do that? Never mind, I understand what you are not saying. You don’t think I care if I’m made a spectacle of, but you are wrong. I do care. And now you raise the other brow, but you’ve somehow managed to lower the first one. So you are capable of raising both, then?”
Ewan did not think this question required an answer. He spotted the footman he had sent to call the carriage and directed the lady toward the path leading back to Carlton House and the portico, which, with its hexagonal design, was rather too overdone for his taste.
“In any case,” she continued, “I do care because whenever a spectacle is made, I must hear about it from my father, and I don’t think I can express to you how much I dislike those sorts of conversations with my father.”
As though he’d known he was being spoken of, the duke himself appeared. “What is wrong?” he asked, his gaze focused first on his daughter and then, when she appeared unharmed, on Ewan.
“I called for the carriage, Your Grace.”
The duke looked in the direction of the conservatory, where music could still be heard. “Why? Is the ball over?”
“I assure you,” the lady said, “I had nothing to do with this or with any spectacles that may or may not have been made.”
“Spectacles?” her father said, his voice rising in volume.
“I was dancing a country reel,” Lady Lorraine said. “Nothing more.”
“The lady is tired,” Ewan said. “I think it prudent she go home to bed.”
The duke stared at him and then looked at his daughter. For her part, the lady appeared utterly speechless.
“Are you tired, Lorrie?” the duke asked.
“I…don’t know,” she stammered.
“What do you mean you don’t know?” her father demanded.
“It’s just that no one has ever asked me that. Well, apart from my nanny, but that was when I rather small. So I don’t really know how to answer.”
“What rubbish. Either you are tired or not.”
“She is,” Ewan said. “Shall I escort her home?”
“I’ll go with you,” the duke announced, signaling to the footman to hand him his greatcoat and walking stick. “I’m losing at cards anyway.”
While Lady Lorraine was assisted into her pelisse, the other footman returned. “Sir, I couldn’t locate Her Grace. Shall I search again?”
The duke harrumphed and shook his head. “No. We go on without her. Her Grace is quite capable of finding her own way home. When she returns to the ball, inform her we have already departed.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“Well then,” he said to Ewan. “Lead on.”
He led them to the carriage and assisted them in himself. Once inside the dark vehicle, Ewan closed his eyes, relishing the quiet. His ears still rang from the music and the din of voices. He had never appreciated silence so much, except perhaps after a battle.
Beside him, the duke stared out the window, no doubt wondering where his wayward wife had gone. Or perhaps he was used to her disappearances and his thoughts tended in a different direction. Across from him, Lady Lorraine was in shadow and unusually quiet. Ewan knew that could not bode well.
It wasn’t until they arrived at the duke’s residence that the men discovered the lady had fallen asleep.