Page 19 of Loving a Beast of a Marquess
It was a ritual as bizarre to him as watching posturing peacocks seek a mate. Nevertheless, it was not his business whom the girls married. Their aunt seemed more than happy to marry them off to whoever offered first, and if that was the case, his place was not to interfere, even if he was frequently forced to endure calls and flowers and compliments. It wasn’t his fault that after encountering him in the same room—he hardly had anywhere else to go—they shortly left.
But speaking to that boy at the ball had been a mistake. He wandered through the gardens and the green shoots poking through the flowerbeds. Spring was beginning, and so were new times. New seasons. New beginnings.
He had come here for a new beginning, but without the Duke’s help, he wasn’t certain how he could mold himself into someone new. Someonebetter.
“Lord Harley.”
At the sound of the voice behind him, he turned. Evangeline, a cloak wrapped around her and her curls dancing across her cheek, stood on the path behind him.
“Lady Evangeline.” He swallowed. Now was the moment to apologize, but he couldn’t seem to find the words. “I had not thought to find you here.”
“Nor I you.” She hesitated before stepping a little closer. “I often walk these paths when I’m in need of space and peace of mind.”
“Then I’m sorry for having disturbed you.”
“No.” She linked her hands behind her back in an air of determination. “I wanted to speak with you.”
He eyed her cautiously. Their previous meetings had not been particularly auspicious. In fact, he wouldn’t be surprised if she hated him now, and although that had been his intention, the thought rankled, somehow, like sourness in his gut.
“What is it?” he asked. The words were shorter and sharper than he’d intended, and her eyes shuttered.
“I know it must please you to make such a mark on our lives,” she said, still with that air of determination—as though it was costing everything she had to stand before him and say this. “But I cannot allow it to continue. Do as you will with me, but I beg you, let my sister marry. Let her find a husband and be happy. Please.”
Of all things he had expected, he had not expected a hypothetical grovel. Her lips were pressed tightly together, and the look in her eyes was that of mingled irritation and fear.
“You have nothing to fear from me,” he told her, but that did nothing to assuage the expression. “I have no intention of preventing your sister from marrying.”
“You said that before, but—”
“Because I have every intention of marrying her myself.” The silence stretched between them like wet dough, her eyes widening as she processed his words.
“Youcannot,” she breathed. “Not my sister.”
“She’s a sweet girl, and in an effort to mend the relationship between our two families—”
“Do you even like her?”
Zachary blinked at Evangeline. “What sort of question is that?”
A flush crept up her neck. He’d seen that flush a few times, but for some reason, this time he didn’t find it so much appealing as uncomfortable. “An honest one,” she said, “which I would exchange for an honest answer.”
The air felt charged between them as he stepped closer to her. Emily was the softer version of Evangeline; the one less likely to stand up to him and cause disruption in their family home. The woman to whom marriage might be an uneventful, if boring, event. A woman whose lack of temper might help soothe his.
Did he like her?She was kind, and she was sweet. In short, everything the lady before him wasn’t, with her sparkling eyes and defiant chin and hard lips. He’d seen them soft when she didn’t think he was looking or when, like now, he approached. Lady Evangeline—the woman whose temper both sparked and soothed his own.
“I asked you a question,” she said, but there was an uncertain note to her voice now. He paused.
“Are you scared of me?” That wasn’t what he had intended to say, but it was what left his mouth. The way she had flinched at his approach—
“No,” she said, that defiance glittering in her eyes once again. “I have never been afraid of you.”
“If that’s the case,” he said, stepping closer, “why do you move back?”
Her mouth opened, just a fraction, and from the flush that rushed to her cheeks, she was remembering the moment in his bedchamber.
The moment when he had almost kissed her, and she had looked as she did now, her lips soft once again, inviting him in. His body reacted, hardening in anticipation of what could never be—but in moments like these, what he thoughtcouldbe if only things were different.
“My sister,” she whispered, breaking that tension between them. “Do you like my sister?”
