Page 45 of A Virgin for the Duke of Ash

“My Lady.” Mr. Turner smiled politely at her. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” Evie croaked. “I… have great admiration for your works. Your technique inSwallows in Flightis absolutely exquisite. I have never seen such delicate strokes in my entire life.”

“Ah!” The painter’s eyes twinkled with delight. “One with an eye for details. Impressive.”

“Of course,” Daniel remarked with a raised eyebrow, as if she could not possibly be anything else.

Ifhesaid she was impressive, then she was certainly the most impressive amongst womankind, and anyone who dared suggest otherwise was a fool.

Evie wanted to roll her eyes at that one.

Can he ever be wrong?

She felt that she was not going to like his answer to that question.

Suddenly, a shrill whistle pierced through the night air as a brilliant light arced into the sky. When it reached the zenith of its ascent, it exploded into scattered flowers of multicolored lights, crackling as they went.

Evie’s blood ran cold as the gathered audience gasped in awe.

The fireworks display had begun.

“No,” she gasped, her eyes closing as she fought to keep the images at bay. “No!”

Flames licking at her skin, her dress, her hair… All around her, the air was thick with smoke, smothering her lungs and her cries for help… Her eyes watering from the heat and the smoke, her senses clouded except for the clear popping and crackling of wood as the fire devoured everything in its path to get to her…

She could not get out.

It had been half a decade, and she was still trapped in the burning house and there was no one in the whole wide world who could get her out to safety.

Daniel had seen that look before.

On the faces of men who had crawled away from the brink of death. On the faces of women who had survived the direst of circumstances and lived on with the scars. On the faces of children who had known the cruelty of the world before they felt the affection of a mother.

But never on the face of a gently bred young lady celebrated by Society.

“No…”

It was a moan. A plea.

“No… please…”

A cold chill ran down his spine when he saw her squeeze her eyes shut, her hands coming up to her ears to block the sounds of a million explosives launching themselves into the sky in a dizzying array.

Gunpowder was first valued for its capability to turn the tides of war. Now, the aristocracy used it to satisfy their insatiable need for entertainment.

Except that some of them were more horrified than entertained.

He reached out for Evie, but she managed to slip past him as she ran away from the crowd and the dazzling display above them.

He cursed under his breath.

Damn it!

It was so easy to lose her in a crush like this, but Daniel had more experience than most of his acquaintances in maneuvering his way through a thick crowd.

He wove in easily, following her as she made her way to a cluster of trees, the thick foliage providing a canopy that blocked out the arcing lights overhead.

He found her huddled at the foot of one of those trees, trembling like a fawn startled by a hunter’s gunshot. His heart clenched at the sight of her—so fragile and broken—and before he could even register what he was doing, he had pulled her delicate frame to his chest, running his hand through her hair and whispering soft, unintelligible words to soothe her.

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