Page 32 of Loving a Beast of a Marquess
Dorothea bustled off to oversee the preparations for the ball, and Evangeline was left to wonder whether it was likely the Earl would propose, or whether she would have to suffer a less handsome husband.
The more time passed, the more inclined she was to accept anyone who asked if they would just ask her. Tonight, she promised herself. Tonight, she would do everything she could to charm the Earl and see if she could procure herself a match that would provide mutual satisfaction if not happiness.
She had given up on happiness a long time ago.
* * *
Zachary hated balls.
Not just because they involved dancing, which he despised, but because a large social group involved all the catty gossips of thetonsitting together and debating who should be their prey for the evening.
Invariably, it was him. The scandal of his father’s death had happened long enough ago now that he had hoped society had moved past it, but whispers followed him wherever he went.
The drawing room was cleared ready for dancing, the parlor put aside for cards, and the garden lit with lanterns for any who wished to cool off in the night air. It was, in short, delightfully set out for a ball.
Percy strode toward him. “Harley, my good fellow, why do you look so grim-faced on a night such as tonight?”
Zachary glanced across to where Evangeline and Emily were standing with another small group made up of two ladies and a young gentleman. That young gentleman was offering Emily, in particular, a great deal of attention. No doubt Evangeline was doing everything she could to promote the match to preventZacharyfrom approaching her.
“Yes, she does look spectacular tonight,” Percy said.
Zachary glanced up. “Lady Evangeline?”
“Who else? Don’t tell me you hadn’t noticed.”
Unfortunately, Zachary couldn’t. He’d seen her as soon as she’d entered the room—as indeed, most likely, had everyone. Her height, combined with the daring rose of her dress and the flush in her cheeks, made her a striking figure indeed.
“She is pretty enough,” he said casually, forcing himself to relax. “Why, are you interested in her, Riffy?”
“If you have no superior claim, I would like to know her better. A man must settle at some stage, you know, and I’m now thirty.” He laughed, but there was oddly no humor in the sound. “A wife would be convenient, do you not think?”
“For yourself, I suppose.”
“And for you. I’ve seen you with the youngest Pevton girl. Lady Emily, is it? She’s pretty enough too if you like that sort of thing.”
“I suspect her affections are already engaged.”
“So charm her,” Percy said, slapping him on the shoulder. “Ask her to dance. Woo her. A lady loves to be wooed.”
Zachary snorted, but when Evangeline moved across the room, tapping her closed fan against the palm of her hand, Percy immediately went to meet her. She smiled up at him as though he was the very person she wished to see. And although Zachary could not hear what was being said, from the way Percy held out his hand and Evangeline took it, he had successfully asked Evangeline to dance.
A simple act. One which Percy had lost no time in doing, and that had immediately resulted in success. Ifhewere to try asking Evangeline to dance, the answer would not be the same, but that was of little matter; he would not ask her to dance. He would instead ask Emily.
He waited for the first two dances—which Emily danced with her young suitor—to close before approaching her. The young man she was with hastily bowed and left.
“Lady Emily,” Zachary said. “You dance so beautifully. Would you do me the honor of this next dance?”
Emily glanced behind him to where he suspected Evangeline was watching them, but he paid her no heed.Shecould dance with whomever she wished as indeed she had done, andhewas merely exercising the same freedom.
“Oh.” Emily’s brow furrowed. “I did not think you liked dancing.”
“Not often,” Zachary agreed, cursing his damned reputation, “but I would make an exception for you.”
A small blush lit the top of her cheekbones, but to his relief, she merely nodded and placed her gloved hand in his. Now to endure this dance. It was just as bad as he feared. His mangled leg ached, Emily was shy, and while she smiled up at him, there was very little conversation between them. He could think of nothing to say. What was there in common between him and this chit?
“You do not look as though you are enjoying yourself, Lord Harley,” Emily said after a few more moments of heavy silence. “Pray, do not put yourself out for my sake.”
“You are a graceful dancer,” he returned. “I am merely wishing I could do you credit.”
