Page 8 of Loving a Beast of a Marquess
Her sense of triumph lasted until she ventured inside the ballroom again. Heat washed over her, and she looked to remove her shawl. A shawl that had been over her shoulders only moments before.
A shawl that was, now, missing.
* * *
Zachary’s fingers closed around the shawl the lady had inadvertently left in his hands. He could no longer even see her in the darkness, and he did not dare chase after her in case someone discovered them.
Besides, he wasn’t entirely certain hecouldchase after her. Kissing her had been one thing, but now she was gone, and he was left with nothing but the rough stone wall under his fingers. The world seemed a little less stable than it had a few moments ago.
Do not remember me. If he left the shawl in its place here, someone might discover it and realize she had been in the garden. If he took it, he might discover its owner’s identity which she did not want, but he…
He was not entirely opposed to that. As his beleaguered brain came to this conclusion, the giggling group from behind approached close enough that they could see him.
“Oh,” said one, “this spot is not as isolated as I had hoped.”
He turned and swept an ironic bow. “Ladies,” he said. They stopped, unsure, and although they couldn’t see his face, he was certain they—unlike the strange lady—had an idea of who he was. “How divine to meet you on such an evening.”
Whispers ofthe Marquesscame from amongst the women, and eventually one summoned enough courage to say, “Our apologies, My Lord. We will leave you in peace.”
No one would suspect him of having dallied with a strange lady now, he was certain—after all, they had witnessed him alone, and he had no doubt been seen exiting the ballroom alone. The strange lady’s identity was safe.
He touched his mouth as the group of ladies hurried back toward the house, perhaps realizing their little excursion came with more danger than they had anticipated.Theyfeared him, but the lady he had kissed—she had not. She had taken his caresses—such caresses as he should never have offered a lady of good standing—and returned them with a passion that had, at least momentarily, cleared his mind.
And now she was gone. He tucked the shawl under his arm. Perhaps he may never discover the identity of the lady, but he would certainly not pass by the opportunity to meet her again.
And, he resolved, he would meet with the Duke of Wellton. Things had been strained between them since his father’s death, but if he went contritely and asked for help—the Dukewouldhelp him, he was certain. His memories of the Duke were vague at best, but he had a sense of the older man’s kindly nature. With the Duke’s guidance, he would know how to move forward.
Zachary was not unused to the sensation of making resolutions when drunk. Somehow, it was always easier to face his flaws when reality was a little more distant. Today, however, would be different; his resolutions made now would be kept, he was certain of it.
That thought in mind, he returned to the house, his step a little lighter, his heart a little surer. Today was the beginning of a new chapter of his life.
ChapterFour
There were few things Evangeline found more intolerable than morning callers. Embroidering was one—as her neatly embroidered cushion forming the wordsEvangeline hates sewingpaid homage to—and cabbage was another. Morning callers, however, still ranked highly amongst her least favorite things.
For a start, the callers were inevitably unappealing. She had yet to have a gentleman call whose smile didn’t make her stomach churn. They often brought flowers or gifts—one even brought some poetry he had written himself to her horror—but none thought to bring interesting conversation or, heaven forbid, a sense of humor.
The truth was, Evangeline was bored.
“Sit up straight,” Aunt Dorothea hissed as yet another caller was announced. This one was a young man with blond hair and dark eyes that darted uncomfortably about the room. He was handsome, in a dreamy, poetic way, although a little too boyish for her taste.
“Lady Pevton,” the young man’s mother said, spreading her arms to embrace Dorothea. Evangeline rose and curtsied to the pair, and Emily, behind her, did the same. It was a routine they had fallen into perfectly. Evangeline, as the oldest, led the charge, and Emily provided a quiet sense of support from behind her. Evangeline knew that even though her aunt viewed each caller with almost unparalleled excitement, Emily would join her in ridiculing them once they were again in private.
This particular young man did not resemble her usual target. He was barely older than she, she estimated, and the occasional glance he cast at his mother suggested he was here under her command.
“Mr. Linfield,” Evangeline said when he didn’t speak. “I believe we met at…” She cast her mind back to when she might have met him if indeed shehadmet him. Surely, he would not be here if they had not met.
“Lady Duridge’s ball,” he supplied helpfully. “We danced together.”
“Ah yes, of course.” She held out a hand, and he took it in his. Thankfully, for she wasn’t certain she had the stomach for any more kissing, he merely bowed over it. His hand, too, was dry—a welcome change from the clammy grips she’d been forced to endure thus far.
In fact, the more she looked at him, the more she wondered if he might be the solution she was looking for. He was certainly a little too under his mother’s thumb at present, but perhaps she could change that once they were married. He looked as though he would be happy to have someone capable of telling him what to do, and Evangeline thought she could handle that well enough. After all, she had guided Emily over the years, and how different could marriage really be?
Her mind replayed her illicit kiss in the garden, just to remind her of what being with a man truly could be like, and she withdrew her hand from Mr. Linfield’s, clenching her fingers until her nails bit into her skin. She wouldnotthink of that.
“Won’t you sit down, Mr. Linfield?” she asked, gesturing to a seat. Her aunt and Lady Linfield were already discussing the latest ball and the new fashion for puffed sleeves with such enthusiasm that Evangeline reflected they might as well have not been there at all.
“You have a lovely home,” he said and blushed right to the roots of his hair. Emily stiffened beside her, and she placed a hand over Emily’s to keep her quiet. “That is, your father’s house is quite lovely.”
