Page 36 of Her Devil of a Duke
Halting in this narrow hallway, she looked about the space.
She supposed once, it had been beautiful, with a grand crystal chandelier overhead, and stark golden paintings on the walls on either side of her. The floor was tiled in ebony and alabaster, with the occasional pink marble accent. At the bottom of the staircase before her, there were two marble lions, welcoming the arrival into the west wing.
Yet what had once been beautiful was now caked in dust and cobwebs, showing just how much this place had been neglected over the last few years. Hurrying to her task, for she didn’t want to be in the cold for too long, she climbed the stairs and headed to the chamber Rafe had described.
On the landing, the floorboards gave an ominous creak, and she halted, waiting to see if the building was as dangerous as Rafe and his servants feared. Nothing gave way though, and she was completely safe. Sighing in relief, she turned to enter the bedchamber beside her, when her attention was caught by a painting on the wall of the landing.
It was a stunning portrait. The lady, whose pale face was murky because of the dust, was beautiful indeed, with great arching dark brows and full lips. She smiled temptingly out from the picture. Judging by the fashion and the gown she wore, it couldn’t have been that old a painting. Perhaps eight years old, or at the most, fifteen years.
Who could she be?
As Evelyn took a step forward, the floorboards creaked once more beneath her, and something seemed to snap somewhere. Not wishing to push her luck, she hurried to her task, leaving the fine portrait behind.
She entered the chamber and found the coffer, collecting a bundle of gowns and robes, though she didn’t pay much heed to which dresses she took, for she was still distracted, thinking of the lady in the portrait.
Such a fine portrait. Why does he leave it in this wing? Why not have it restored and brought into the rest of the house?
Exiting the bedchamber and turning her back on the painting, she struggled to carry the pile of dresses down the stairs and out through the hallway. By the time she stepped back out into the garden, the weather had taken a turn for the worse. Blinking madly against the snow that shrouded her vision now in an effort to see, she trundled forward, heading back toward the main aspect of the house.
The door was opened for her, and Rafe swept her inside, taking the gowns from her grasp and dropping them on a chair nearby. Turning to face her, he brushed the snow from her reddened cheeks before leaning in to kiss her. He lingered this time, the brief chasteness turning into something heated.
“Warmed up yet?” he murmured against her lips.
“Mostly,” she teased.
He chuckled and took her hand, then gathered the gowns under his other arm.
“Follow me, I know just the way to warm you up.”
CHAPTERSEVENTEEN
“That one.” Rafe pointed at the gown Evie was wearing as she spun in a circle.
“Truly?” She paused and stood by the floor-length mirror, gazing at herself in clear bemusement. When she wrinkled her nose and glanced back at him, he chuckled.
“You don’t think much of yourself, do you? Lord knows why.” He stood up from the chair where he had been sitting and walked toward her, approaching her from behind. He stopped with his chin resting on her shoulder, gazing at her in the mirror. “Surely the past few days have shown you that you possess more than enough to seduce a man, Evie.”
“Do not tease me now,” she whispered with a light smile and fidgeted with the fabric of her dress. “I cannot pull off a gown like this.”
“I’d be more than happy to pull it off for you.” He playfully reached for one of the sleeves and knocked it down her shoulder. She laughed and righted it once more.
“You know what I mean. It’s rich in color, deeply so. My cousins… What they would say if they were to see me in something like this.”
Rafe believed she suited the gown perfectly. Unlike the current pastel fashion, this dress had been made at a time when gowns were bolder. The daring deep rose silk hugged her figure, its material tenderly tracing the contours of her slim curves. The way the hem brushed the floor accentuated her height too and had him thinking of those long legs that were hidden beneath. The slim bodice, tucked just under her breasts, offered a hint of bosom, but no more.
It was a scandalous gown, one that could make any man who saw her drop to his knees. Rafe was certainly tempted to do as much.
“Your cousins?” Rafe suddenly realized what she had said. “What would they have to say about what you wear?”
“They like to comment on what I wear.” She adjusted the sleeves self-consciously once more.
Over the last couple of days, Rafe had come to learn more about Evelyn’s circumstances. She was the daughter of a baron, but after the death of her parents, she had been raised in the household of her aunt and uncle, alongside her three cousins. One of the cousins was a name he had heard often, from his friend, Simon. Miss Hester Gulliver. She was the eldest of the three.
“What are they like, your cousins?” Rafe asked. He tried to keep the concern out of his voice as Evelyn shrugged.
“They are as they are,” she murmured, her fingers playing with the gown’s fabric once more. “Hester and I get along the most. I am not sure Kitty likes me very much at times, but perhaps she doesn’t like having to share her chamber with me. They…” she started but broke off, shaking her head.
“What is it?” Rafe urged, longing to know what she was going to say.
