Page 18 of Loving a Beast of a Marquess
“Merely that you are a mouse under the protection of a tiger.”
The Marquess was at the other side of the room, accompanied by a blond man who appeared to be persuading the Marquess to remain in the ballroom and not disappear into one of the side rooms for cards.
Evangeline wished hewouldleave.
“He is no tiger,” she said. “Merely a cat with a temper.”
Mr. Linfield raised his eyebrows. “A nasty temper.”
“Don’t you go and be afraid of him like everyone else?”
He smiled mockingly at her. “Why, has he scared away all your other suitors?”
Sometimes, she wondered why she was even considering a union with such a silly man. Then again, she had few enough options now her father was gone, and the alternative was living under the Marquess’ thumb.
“Listen,” she said, “I know you don’t actually want to marry me, either.”
“Such flattery,” he murmured.
“But your mother is pressing you into finding a wife, and I am in need of a husband.”
His dark eyes met her in a rush of surprise. “Good heavens, are you proposing?”
“Keep your voice down!” Evangeline pinched her nose. This was not how she had imagined this going. “I’m not proposing. Not exactly. I’m merely suggesting that this might be the way forward.”
“A marriage of convenience.” He chewed on his lip, the uncertainty reminding her that he was, in fact, barely any older than her, and certainly in no rush to be married of his own accord. “My mother would be pleased if I married a Duke’s daughter.”
“You need not act immediately, but I think it’s in both our interests.”
“You make a compelling argument.” He glanced up, and his eyes widened.
“Lady Evangeline,” a deep voice said from behind her. “I believe this next dance is mine.”
She turned to find the Marquess standing altogether too close, and as for the way he glared at Mr. Linfield—a man who, for all his mockery, paled…Oh, it was hopeless.
“I do hope you’re not making plans you might regret,” the Marquess said coolly. Odd that for a man with such rage in his eyes, he spoke so coldly. “Do you imagine her father will consent to her marrying the second son of a Viscount when she has so many other, more eligible suitors to her name?”
“I, ah.” Mr. Linfield blushed and sent her a brief, apologetic glance. “No, My Lord.”
“I should think not.”
Without another look at her or even any indication that he might have been inclined to fight for her, Mr. Linfield left.
Evangeline rounded on the Marquess. “This is the outside of enough,” she hissed. “Howdareyou interfere with my plans in such a heavy-handed way?”
“What sort of plans were those?” he smirked. “Planning on marryinghim?”
“Considering you are scaring off all my other prospects, it’s not as though Ihavemany other options.” She put her hands on her hips. “Is that your plan? Are you intending on ensuring my sister and Inevermarry?”
He paused, the slightest frown creeping into his eyes and dissolving the anger. “I had no such intention.”
“Then my advice to you would be to stop whatever it is you’re doing. As for the dance?” She gritted her teeth. “You will never prevail on me to dance with you.” Hands clenched by her sides, she stormed off into the crowd, leaving the Marquess standing and staring after her.
* * *
Zachary was not usually given to excessive self-reflection. If possible, he avoided thinking about himself and his situation too much; as he had told the strange woman over two weeks ago, he was not in an enviable position.
And the longer the Duke was absent, the more unsettled he felt. Every day was another battle in leashing his temper and inevitably failing. But he should not have interfered with the girls’ marriage prospects. He knew this was the process by which ladies married—they welcomed callers, danced with their suitors, and generally encouraged them with smiles and fluttering fans until the gentleman in question asked for their hand.
