Page 24 of Loving a Beast of a Marquess
He left her standing in the middle of the library and headed blindly to his room. The last thing he needed was his traitorous body to decide that what it wanted more than anything washer.
* * *
Evangeline stared after the Marquess as he stormed away from her as though he could hardly bear to be near her. Perhaps that wasn’t surprising, considering everything they had been through, but for a moment she had thought…
Butthatwas foolish. The Marquess had no interest in her; he had gone as far as telling his sister so. She should not have apologized. Even if the shock—and hurt—that had crossed his face had seemed altogether too genuine to have been cultivated specially for her. Her mention of the library and selling his father’s house had upset him.
Nevertheless, she should have let her comment lie. Anything to avoid her standing here now in suchconfusion. He had said there was nothing she could do to chase him away, but the sooner he left, the sooner he would get his claws away from Emily, the sooner he would stop disrupting her aunt—she’d never seen Dorothea go through so many smelling salts before now—and the sooner he would stop leaving her feeling so confused.
Believing he was a monster was far easier than thinking there might be some humanity in him after all. She clenched her fists by her sides. There had to be something she could use to persuade him—or blackmail him, she was amenable to either—to leave. She just had to find it.
And the best place to start would be his bedchamber.
* * *
“Are you certain you don’t want to come out with us?” Zachary’s mother asked while Lady Pevton looked ready to expire if he agreed to escort them.
“I’m confident you don’t need my services,” he said. “I wouldn’t want to impose.”
“Oh, you wouldn’t be imposing, Zachary,” his mother said. Lady Pevton made a strangled noise.
He tucked his hands behind his back. His mother’s motives were transparent, but forcing him into close quarters with a woman who was more likely to faint than engage in conversation with him wouldn’t help matters. “I’m certain,” he said. “Enjoy yourselves.”
Lady Pevton hurried out of the door, muttering something about making her escape while she could, and his mother gave him one last smile before following them out the door.
Zachary heaved a sigh. If anyone was to persuade him to leave, it would not be Evangeline with her stormy eyes and her pranks, but Lady Pevton with her muffled squeaks whenever he approached, and the way she demanded her smelling salts every time he did something of which she did not approve. Her list of things she did not approve of, it seemed, was never-ending.
Every step heavy, he made his way back upstairs to his bedchamber. The two ladies were out, his mother had been sent on her way to the haberdashery, and the house was finally to himself.
For a moment, he paused, the house before him morphing into his father’s townhouse. The stairs became ones he had played on as a boy that he had last seen dusty and swathed with white sheets. That had been just before he had sold the place, every memory that lived inside its walls too much for him to bear.
Losing his father was painful enough; living amongst his ghost would have been impossible. He shook his head and continued to his bedchamber. Those memories were dead and buried, much like his father. This house was a place of refuge, a place where no memories lurked in the shadowed corners.
In short, a new start that he was contriving to mess up as fully as he had destroyed his old life.
Once in his bedchamber, he rang for a bath to be heated for him and sat on the bed as his valet removed his boots. The day had been a long one, and it was only mid-afternoon; the sky outside was smeared with the deep orange of the setting sun. Above it was a deep blue that reminded him a little of Evangeline’s eyes.
Confound it.
He gripped his fingers in the sheets of his bed. Ever since he’d confronted her in the library two days ago, he’d been unable to think of anything other than her. Her mouth, inviting and open, her eyes, alluring yet sharp, the lush curves of her breasts, and the flare of her hips, usually hidden by her dress.
Women had never been his vice. He had preferred drinking and gambling over more carnal pleasures, largely because of his ruined body. No woman could love his melted skin, the scars that ran across his chest and legs. Removing himself from the equation had been easier; employing ladies to smile and pretend they didn’t notice somehow seemed less deceitful than using his face to charm them and disappointing them with his imperfect body. He’d taught himself not to want them—or at least, not with any frequency, and if he did find his head turned by a pretty lady, a night with a prostitute or two usually calmed the urge.
They never could quite dim the flicker of disgust in their eyes when they saw him, no matter how much he paid them.
Evangeline, however… He had satisfied himself several times since their last meeting, but he still couldn’t prevent himself from thinking of her—and prevent his body from responding as though he was to expect anything from the attraction.
He remained in his bedchamber until the giggling rush of voices told him the two girls had returned. Emily and Evangeline. Her cheeks would be flushed from the cold wind, most likely, and her eyes would be bright.
“Your bath is ready, My Lord,” his valet said, bowing. Zachary strode into his dressing room where the tin bath stood before the fire, steam rising from the water.
“Thank you, Roberts,” Zachary said. “I am not in need of your assistance for now.”
“As you wish, My Lord.”Roberts bowed and let himself out, and Zachary shrugged off his robe, letting it pool on the floor behind him. Truth be told, he hated anyone seeing his skin, even Roberts who was loyal—or as loyal as any retainer could be.
The water was hot as he sank into it, and he let the heat soothe him as it flowed up his chest with his arms braced on either side. Perhaps, given his thoughts about Evangeline, a cold bath would have been more apt, but this relaxed his muscles. He let his head fall back and tried to think of nothing at all.
Something that might have worked if it were not for a certain young lady with gleaming blue eyes and a full mouth that longed to be kissed. Frustrated, he clenched his hands around the edges of the bath and gritted his teeth. Hewouldovercome this even if it meant avoiding her for a while. It wasn’t as though she was fond of him, after all.
