Amanda McCabe by The Rules of Love Page B

what?”
    “Society has always been constrictive in certain ways,” he said. “Yet there has also been room for a degree of freedom for people who, shall we say, have a different way of looking at things.”
    “People such as you, perhaps?” she asked. “People who behave in wild ways, not caring what boundaries they cross, or who they hurt by it.”
    Something flickered in the sherry brown depths of his eyes, a flash of anger or maybe even pain. But it was gone in an instant, and he glanced away from her with a laugh. “I would never knowingly hurt anyone, Mrs. Chase. I only try to enjoy my life; it is far too short to do otherwise. How can that harm people?”
    Rosalind didn’t know what he was saying, what he meant. Her head was spinning, her ears ringing. She wanted to move away from him, to run away, but she was frozen to the spot. “How have the rules hurt anyone?” she cried, more passionately than she intended. Her voice echoed along the corridor.
    He seemed startled by her vehemence, and studied her closer. His hand, as of its own volition, moved to her hair, to the long curl that lay along her neck. It twined like a twist of red silk around his finger.
    Rosalind forgot to breathe. She could not move away, she could not do anything but stare at her hair twined about his long, elegant finger.
    “Oh, Mrs. Chase,” he whispered. “They hurt people in ways far too complicated for me to explain. They are hurting
you
, if you could only see it.”
    Hurting her?
No!
They were the only thing that was saving her—the only thing that could begin to help her brother.
Morley
was the one who was hurting her. She had left the safety of her school to come here and stop him.
    But it was hard, indeed almost impossible, to remember that now. She reached up to grasp his wrist,to push him away, but she could not seem to. Her fingers curled around his velvet cuff, and she leaned closer to him…
    “Well, well,” a voice said. “What is all this?”
    Rosalind jerked away, as if she was burned, and almost tripped over the table. As she righted herself, clinging to the cold marble, a hot, red rush of shame flooded through her. What was she doing, standing here in the dark, practically
embracing
Lord Morley? Morley, of all people! She had broken at least six—no, seven—of her own rules in just those few seconds.
    Moon madness. That was the only explanation. Or perhaps the spell of the city, the unfamiliar social whirl, that made her lose her head. Made her forget what was truly important.
    She peered down the corridor to see Georgina standing there, her famous sapphires glittering like a blue fire in the candlelight. Georgina watched her with no hint of condemnation—that would never be Georgina’s way. There was speculation in her eyes, and a hint of amusement.
    That amusement was almost worse than condemnation. It was like a splash of icy water, bringing her back into reality. Rosalind slipped past Lord Morley and hurried down the corridor toward her friend.
    “Georgina,” she said, and was dismayed to hear the breathlessness of her voice. “I was just—just coming to find you.”
    “Oh, yes? I trust your headache is better.” Georgina’s gaze shifted past Rosalind to Lord Morley, who had moved away from the wall and stood in a flickering beam of candlelight. “Viscount Morley, is it not?”
    “Indeed it is, Duchess.” Aside from a faint thickness in his tone, there was absolutely no change in his demeanor. It was as if he was completely unaffected by their brief, strange, unsettling scene. He pushed the waves of his dark hair back from his brow, and came forward to bow over Georgina’s hand.
    “I was not aware you knew my friend Mrs. Chase,”she said, tilting her head as she looked up at him speculatively.
    “My sister attends her excellent Seminary,” he answered, and glanced over at Rosalind. There was a plea in his eyes—perhaps an apology?
    But Rosalind could not bring herself to look directly at