Page 11 of Loving a Beast of a Marquess
“I see.” The Marquess slapped his gloves on his hands in clear irritation. “And when might I expect his return?”
Dorothea visibly jumped, and an uncomfortable flush spread up her face. “I’m not certain,” she quavered, falling back under the Marquess’ furious gaze. “I had not thought it would be… soon.”
“I see,” the Marquess said again, his voice reminding Evangeline of a whip. Dorothea quailed even more under its furious lash. “You are not certain of your brother’s return?”
Lady Harley frowned, a pucker appearing between her brows, and turned to her son. “My dear,” she said soothingly, “perhaps it would be better if we returned.”
“I have not come all this way to merely return.”
He knew. Evangeline was almost certain he knew, and Dorothea had clearly come to the same conclusion.
“He will not return for at least a fortnight,” Evangeline said, keeping her voice steady and praying a fortnight would be long enough for him to forget this entire business.
“Yes,” Dorothea said. “Pray do not wait on his account.”
“And why should I not?” The Marquess swung around and glared at Evangeline’s aunt with enough ire in his gaze that it was a wonder Dorothea remained standing. “Am I not the heir to this house?”
Dorothea visibly flinched. “I had not—”
“You may wish to have nothing to do with me, but that will not spare you my company.” His lip curled as he looked at her. “I will remain here until his return.”
“No!” The word burst from Dorothea before she could stop herself, and Evangeline could do nothing but watch as anger crossed the Marquess’ face like a roiling cloud.
“What did you say?” he asked menacingly.
“I merely meant—you cannot wait for the Duke’s return. I—” Dorothea broke off and glanced helplessly at Evangeline, her chest rising and falling, her breath coming too fast. Evangeline knew the signs; her aunt would shortly need her smelling salts before she fell into a faint. Her aunt was many things, most of them kind and good, but she did not do well with disaster and concern. “I had not thought you would—”
“Enough!” The Marquess’s voice was quiet but cold enough it sliced between them. “I see how you despise me, but that is not reason enough for me to leave. I intend to remain in the house until his return, whenever that may be.”
If he knew, this was the cruelest way of going about it, Evangeline thought distantly as Dorothea, unable to calm herself any longer, hurried from the room, her shoulders shaking. After a few murmured apologies, Lady Harley followed, and Emily sank into a chair, her face white.
For politeness’ sake, Evangeline knew she should sit and engage the Marquess in conversation, if only to determine if his threat of remaining in the house—herhouse—was real, but the Marquess did not deserve her politeness.
“You may be the heir,” she snapped, “but you may not treat my aunt with such disrespect.”
The Marquess treated her to the same withering stare he had given her aunt. “I do not appreciate evasiveness.”
“I do not appreciate your behavior,My Lord.” Evangeline folded her arms, doing her best not to flinch as he looked her over, slowly, his gaze lingering on her face. If he were less handsome, this entire process would be easier. “You may not come here and threaten my family.”
“And I suppose you are going to stop me?” The corner of his mouth quirked into a smile. “Lady Evangeline, is it?”
Evangeline stiffened. “Yes.”
“Be certain of this, Lady Evangeline: I have little tolerance for lies and deceit. Wherever your father may be, I am determined to wait for him.”
“In our house?”
“Why, yes.” He spread his hands. “The house my mother has been renting while I’ve been abroad is woefully insufficient.”
Ire to match the Marquess’ rose in Evangeline’s breast. The odious, obnoxious, downrightarrogantnerve of the man! “You are taking liberties,” she informed him grandly.
“Angie,” Emily pleaded, tugging at Evangeline’s skirts. “Will you not have a seat, My Lord?” she asked the Marquess, far more politely than Evangeline would have done. In Evangeline’s opinion, the Marquess did not deserve a seat. At least she had not offered him refreshments after—
“And some refreshments?” Emily continued. “I can ring for some tea.”
The Marquess’ expression softened, just a trifle, as he looked at her sister, and Evangeline had the strange urge to throw herself in front of Emily and protect her. If the Marquesshadany softness, and she was not certain that he did, she would not permit him to bestow it on her sister.
“Yes, thank you,” he said, taking a seat and stretching his long legs out before him.
