"Get up," the man repeated when Mary was still seated on his lap. Her heart thumped with fear at the sudden coldness of his voice, causing goosebumps to prickle her skin.
Eventually, she scrambled to her feet like someone set for a marathon. Trembling hands straightened her maroon dress, eyes fixed on the man who did not regard her one bit, who acted as if she did not exist, just like the first time. Not that Marybeth had never been ignored before; of course, she had. When she happened to go to balls and soirées, forced by her mother, no potential gentlemen approached her. Perhaps it was the scowl she carried with her each time, or the book she shoved in her face to chase them away. Being ignored had never hurt before—except now.
What had happened was not a simple matter. Although her initial plan was to tarnish her name, which had happened, she expected him to do something to save face as well. She could feel many eyes in the clubhouse peering at them, but no one said anything.
"I...," Marybeth was about to apologize but halted in her speech, amber eyes widening as the man picked up his half-empty glass resting on the bar, circling his hand around it, bringing it once again to his lips. Just like the first time, his eyes scanned the club as if in search of someone. Nothing seemed to interest him—not the loud chatter, nor the many ladies staring at him, licking their lips.
'Good God, could he at least not ignore her? Could he say something, even if it was to insult her for her actions?' "I am sorry," Mary said nonetheless, moving closer to him so he could hear.
Yet again, the man halted his drink midway. Perhaps it was a sudden gust of wind that rushed into the room; strands of his hair swayed slightly, some resting on his forehead, giving him a distinctive look. Although the man did not stare at her, she was certain he was listening now. "I hate that I dragged you into this..."
"Hush, lady," he said, his gaze narrowing as he focused ahead. He rose to his feet, his towering height casting a shadow over hers. He was impeccably built, his tailored suit emphasizing the muscle underneath.
Mary tensed as he placed the drink in her open palm, a gesture she had made by raising her hand. His gaze remained fixed ahead, not meeting hers, as he quickly moved towards his destination.
"Wait!" Marybeth said frantically, dropping the glass on the bar stand and racing after him.
He was moving so fast, his steps long, effortlessly passing among crowds of men and women while she had to wiggle through little spaces, feeling someone's stamp on her feet, wincing as someone pushed her away. It was a struggle, but she must not let him out of her sight before he disappeared. No, she couldn't let him disappear. Even though this whole situation was her fault, she still needed one more favor from him to save her face. Tomorrow gossip would be spread about then. Why hadn't she thought of this before choosing to tarnish her name?
"Wait," Mary breathed, maneuvering through the crowded people gathered to watch a game of poker. They were cheering and scattered all about, making it difficult to pass through. Her eyes grew frantic when she saw him dashing out of the door. "No, no, 'Wait,'" Mary gasped, trying to find a way through the crowd, but it seemed impossible.
Stepping back, she looked around for any way out. Eventually, her eyes caught a man's leg standing wide open. Since she was petite, Mary fell to her knees, crawling until she squeezed through the small space. Getting up, she dashed out of the door, chasing after him. "Wait," she cried.
The night was quiet, cold, and empty. One might be scared by its hushness, as if a ghost stood nearby about to pounce on you. However, Mary's mind was too preoccupied to fear anything at that moment.
"Wait," she cried, raising her hand in the air and waving as if he would see it.
His back was turned to hers as he strode ahead at a fast pace, his hand kept in his trousers pocket, appearing calm despite the situation. However, no matter Mary's attempts, he did not pause or turn to answer her.
"Please," she shouted, running towards him since walking would not suffice. Her feet thud on the ground, creating a loud noise on the empty street. "We need to talk about what has happened," she cried, reaching for him, but he only quickened his pace.
"Drat!" she cursed, saying the words out loud. Why was he running away after what had happened? Tomorrow gossip would spread. They needed to talk like two mature people and come up with a plan to save face. "Drat," Mary yelled again, stopping to catch her breath, glaring at his perfectly built muscles. 'Dammit! Why does she even care if he's handsome, well-built, and tall? He's still a drat, drat, drat if he tries to ignore this situation.'
Thankfully, the man halted. His tailed coat swayed with the wind, but he did not turn to look at her. He stood there, unmoving. This brought quick relief to Mary, and she started moving towards him. However, as she did, his gaze fixed sideways as if he were staring at something. Then quickly, he hurried towards it, disappearing behind a house.
"Wait!" Mary cried frantically, rushing towards him again. What was catching his attention? What was he chasing that he couldn't even look at her?
Mary mustered the last of her strength, gasping for air as she ran after him. The path he followed led to the back of a house, with lush trees and bushy grass reaching her height. The area was vast, with houses scattered around. Ignoring the goosebumps on her skin, Mary continued following him.
He passed the final house and entered through a small gate that was left open. When Mary reached it, she staggered, her eyes widening in fear. For the first time since the night began, she felt a shiver run down her spine, causing her feet to almost wobble. In front of her were rows and rows of graves, with names engraved on them. It was a graveyard, and in the middle of the night, what was he doing here?