Page 10 of Loving a Beast of a Marquess
“Then why,” she said, “did you return to England at all?”
He forced a tight smile. “I thought I had been away from you and my title long enough.”Half an answer—enough of an answer that she might perhaps not pry anymore.
“Very well.” His mother turned her attention to her toast. “In which case, Zachary, what is your plan next?”
“I had intended on seeing the Duke,” Zachary said with false calm. “There has been some tension between our families for some time, and I would very much like to ease that.”
His mother flicked a glance at him. “Admirable,” she said after a moment. “I suppose youareto inherit.”
“One day, perhaps.” And that day, he hoped, would be a long way off arriving. The Duke had two daughters as he recalled, and he had no interest in acting as their guardian. “But in truth, I had hoped to stay with him awhile.”
The silence ticked between them, disturbed only by the scrape of his mother’s knife against her toast. The house they rented now was small but fashionable, large enough to host small parties without bringing them shame but not in any quantifiable measuretheirs. The Harley house in London had been big enough, but he had sold that immediately following his father’s death. The weight of expectation contained in that house had been too much.
“I hardly see what is wrong with our current location,” she said, each syllable clipped.
Zachary ran a hand through his hair and rose. “If you have an objection, you may remain here,” was all he said. It had been a perfectly adequate house for her when he had been abroad, and it would suit her perfectly well now. However, he did not suit him, and he was disinclined to purchase another house without a family to raise in it.
The Duke would not turn him away, he was certain, and staying as a guest with the Duke, able to observe him in his everyday life, would guide him more than anything else.
Provided he could hold in his cursed temper.
ChapterFive
Two days after the ball and the kiss that had made her lose her shawl—and her peace of mind—Evangeline had about convinced herself all would be well when the announcement the household had feared came to pass.
The Marquess of Harley has come to visit.
Panic was not an emotion Evangeline was overly familiar with, but the sound of that particular announcement, hissed to them by a frantic Emily, was enough to send her heart rocketing into her mouth. Dorothea had frequently regaled them with tales of his depravity, his cruelty, his famed temper. If he discovered they were without a father, and he was the heir effective immediately, they would be doomed.
She suspected her aunt had been anticipating this for a good long time, given the level of her dislike; it could only have been cultivated from fear.
“He must know,” Emily said, her face crumpling. “He must know Papa has died and has come to turn us out of the house.”
“Nonsense,” Evangeline said with more force and conviction than she felt. “Even he would not be so cruel.”
“There is nothing I would depend upon less,” Dorothea said in mournful tones. “Oh my dears—I have tried to shield you, but it has all been in vain!”
Evangeline had the sensation that reality was slipping through her fingers. “Now then,” she said, picking up a book and straightening her back. “We don’t know anything for certain. Emily, you must do your best not to cry, dear, or he’ll see.”
“Oh—detestable man!” Dorothea said, pressing a trembling hand to her chest. “How can I welcome him to a home he may soon turn us out of?”
“That is hardly a helpful way of thinking,” Evangeline snapped. The door opened, and all three women turned to look as the butler, in an austere voice, announced the Marquess of Harley and the Dowager Marchioness of Harley, his mother.
This was the first time Evangeline had been at liberty to examine the Marquessin close quarters. He was taller than she remembered and broader, too, with wide shoulders over which a coat was fitted tightly. And, irritatingly, he was more handsome than she remembered him being; his eyes were a sharp, clear blue, and there was something striking about the lines of his face, all of them harsh save his mouth which had a hint of softness about it. A hint that disappeared as he looked about the room.
“I apologize for the intrusion,” he said with a coldness that seemed to sink into the very air of the room. “I was hoping to speak with His Grace, but it appears no one is entirely sure where he is.”
Evangeline glanced at the butler, whose lips pressed together.
“How very nice it is to see you again,” Lady Harley said to Dorothea with a kind smile. “And these must be your nieces?”
“Yes, indeed.” Dorothea forced a smile false enough that Evangeline felt everyone should have been able to see it. “Lady Evangeline and Lady Emily, Madam.”
Evangeline and Emily dipped into a slight curtsy, and Evangeline glanced up again to find the Marquess scowling at them both. Whatever he had come to find, it was not them.
“The Duke,” he said as soon as introductions had been completed. “Where might I find him?”
“I’m sorry, My Lord,” Dorothea apologized in a voice that sounded as though she was speaking through gritted teeth, “but he is currently not home.”
