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Miss Roth what he really thought, it would give her more reasons to insult each and every girl in the room, for she had a jealous nature.
    “Ethan?” Miss Roth stood and tapped his arm with her fan. “Ethan, why do you continue to stare at that girl? What is she to you?”
    He leaned close to her ear and said, “You are overly jealous when you are not the center of attention. A trait that is unbecoming in a woman. Try to behave yourself.”
    Affronted, she pressed her lips together. “It slipped my mind, sir, that some of your ancestors were rebels. Is that why you show such favoritism?”
    He smiled. “I thank you for the reminder. I am not ashamed.”
    “Perhaps that is why you are attracted to Miss Darcy.”
    “She is different, I will admit.” He would not be surprised if Darcy were to kick off her shoes and dance barefooted. In a way, he hoped she would.
    “I cannot understand why you are attracted to her.”
    “Whether or not I am, it should not alarm you.”
    “It does, for I thought we had an understanding.”
    “If my interest in others has offended you, or breached any inkling of an understanding, have I stepped over the line? Your envy is unseemly.”
    “And you are blinded by a pretty face, sir. I must open your eyes.”
    Miss Byrd, along with their chaperone that sat behind them, sucked in a breath. “Miss Roth, you will remember your manners,” whispered her chaperone. “You will be seated.” And she yanked at her sleeve.
    “Leave me be.” With a lift of her head, Miss Roth moved closer to the line of dancers. Darcy stood close enough to hear Miss Roth. “I would not doubt that every man in the room has already exhausted Miss Darcy’s mysteries.”
    Ethan twisted his mouth. “That is too low even for you.”
    The lady’s face flushed. Her eyes glistened with self-pity. She stared at him, raised her face, and then lowered herself with a sweep of her gown to the chair. Ethan stepped away and removed himself as far as possible from a woman whose mouth was like a continuing dropping of rain upon his brow. He strode toward Darcy when he saw how pale her face had gone, and how sad her expression.

    After hearing what Miss Roth said, Darcy’s hands dropped from the man who held them and she stood stunned. She lifted her eyes to the gentleman and excused herself. Then she caught the venomous glance of Miss Roth and the proud look that spread over her face. Darcy wanted to confront her, but no good would come of it. She would not lower herself to Miss Roth’s level.
    She should not care what Miss Roth thought of her. What did her opinion matter? The lady had nothing to do with what course her life took. Ah, and she was freer than Miss Roth to be who and what she was. She would wear her locks as it pleased her, dress in simple clothing, wear hats that she and her cousins made from the reeds cut from the riverside. She would wear what she wished even if it were secondhand, speak to whom she liked whether rich or poor, and not take anything Miss Roth said to heart.
    If only it were so easy.
    The heat in the room grew as oppressive as Miss Roth’s words. Whispers rose and she heard the name Morgan pass from person to person. People stared—some with disdain, others with curiosity. She questioned why. Had she done something to deserve such looks? Why had her last name drawn this kind of attention, along with Miss Roth’s rude comments?
    And so, Darcy slipped between the dancers and headed toward the door leading to the terrace outside. Before she could pass through it, Ethan stepped in front of her.
    “It is too fine an evening to leave, Miss Morgan.”
    “You will excuse me, sir.” Her voice trembled and the tears that swelled in her eyes burned.
    “Once again, I have intruded. I only want to help.”
    She gathered her gown in her hands. At every turn, Ethan met her. “I am in need of air, sir.”
    “It is stuffy in here … much like my traveling companion Miss Roth.” He moved her to the