Chapter 29 #3
“I am happy,” he said. Sweat beaded on the back of his neck; his palms felt damp inside his gloves.
“I only want more. I want to share a home with you. I want to breakfast with you without needing to arrive at dawn. I want to walk into every ball or soirée or theater box with you on my arm, and I want to take you home with me at the end of every evening, without secrecy or sneaking.”
“Has it been so terrible?” she asked hesitantly.
He couldn’t help a rueful smile. “No. Nothing with you could be terrible, to me.”
Slowly she came back up to him, and laid her hand on his chest. “You want to marry me,” she said, as if she weren’t sure that’s what he had said. “You.”
“I do.”
Her fingers stroked small circles. “I never thought to marry again . . .”
“All I am asking tonight,” he said quietly, “is that you consider it. Marrying me, not anyone else—who would most certainly not deserve you.”
She smiled at that, and his heart took a leap. “Very well,” she said after a taut moment. “I will . . . consider it.”
He inhaled and warmth flushed through him. “Thank you, my love.” He bent to touch his forehead to hers, and for a moment they simply stood, breathing in each other, a small cocoon of happiness.
“How long do you think is a good length of time to consider?” she whispered.
His pulse leapt. “A fortnight? Or perhaps a month or two,” he added quickly, not wanting to seem hasty. He had waited years to ask her this; he could wait another year to hear her answer.
She took her time replying. “Yes, I think a fortnight sounds a reasonable time for considering,” she said at last. “Should I expect to receive any . . . persuasion in that time?”
“Only,” he replied, “the sort of persuasion I would exert on any ordinary Wednesday.”
She laughed. Richard smiled, as he always did when she laughed. “I remember one Wednesday when we only left the bed to eat and soak in the bathhouse.”
“As I said,” he agreed.
She laughed again, then went up on her toes to kiss him once more, tenderly this time. “Why now?”
“What do you mean?”
“You said you had wanted this forever.” She waved one hand. “Why ask now?”
Richard let out his breath slowly. “For the first time I have been deprived of your company—not by ill health, or by travel, or even by your desire or my own, but by the narrow minds of people I do not care about. You did nothing to earn their scorn. My love for you is not a sordid secret.”
She rolled her lip between her teeth at that. “No, it is not sordid . . . or secret.”
Something in her voice made him frown. “What is it?”
She sighed. “Lady Brentwood . . . Never mind. It doesn’t matter.”
“Evie.”
She gave him a look of reproach. “Never mind, Richard.”
He held up his hands in surrender. “As you wish.”
She took a deep breath. “We’d better return. Joan will wonder where I’ve gone.”
He nodded, a little let down. What had Lady Brentwood done to discompose her? “The young lady looked very pleased with her situation, when we left.”
The shadows in her eyes lightened. “She did, didn’t she? I do think Burke is in earnest.”
“If he is not,” Richard replied lightly, “I will be happy to show him the error of his ways.”
She laughed. “Oh no! I believe my niece would be capable of putting him in his place, if he needed it.”
He grinned. “Let us go see. I wager you a farthing she’ll not have noticed your absence.”
Evangeline grinned back at him. “I hope so, darling.”
Her hand around his arm, they left the quiet parlor and returned to the supper room. It was full now, crowded with guests at long tables. Footmen were bustling about with plates of food and trays of drinks, gentlemen were fetching wine and punch for ladies, and the chatter filled the room.
They did not spy Miss Bennet or Lord Burke at once.
The supper was being served across three rooms, with doors wide open between them.
Richard and Evangeline strolled through the first room, stopping more than once after being hailed by someone or other.
Sir Paul Brentwood appeared out of nowhere and tried to divert them to his table, but Richard put him off.
This was what he longed for. She walked close beside him, where he could smell her perfume and feel the warmth of her touch on his arm.
To his silent satisfaction, not one person blinked at the sight of them.
Everyone greeted them equally, and warmly.
He hoped Evangeline had also taken note.
No vicious rumormongers would spoil this evening. This could be their life.
In the second room, Evangeline pointed out some of her niece’s friends, the Misses Weston. “Oh my,” she said in surprise. “I thought Joan would certainly be near them . . .”
The two young ladies, one dark and one fair, sat at a table with two gentlemen and a pair of other ladies.
The blonde girl looked openly bored, and the dark-haired girl more politely bored, nodding slightly as one of the gentlemen spoke to her.
At a nearby table sat an older couple; their parents, from the looks of things.
The father kept shooting glances over his shoulder at the girls, only to be tapped on the knuckles by his wife.
“Perhaps Burke wished more privacy to declare himself,” Richard said, having to lean close to speak to her. The conversational roar around them had grown louder in this room.
Evangeline brightened. “Yes, very likely. But let’s look in the next room just to be certain.”
They went into the third room, where the rogues and scoundrels had made themselves at home.
A pair of dandies in tight coats were balancing champagne glasses on each other’s heads, and at least one seduction was being waged in the corner, where a rake was whispering into a young widow’s ear as she smiled coyly.
“I don’t see her,” said Evangeline slowly.
“We must have overlooked them. Let us go back.”
But they didn’t see Miss Bennet or the viscount on their second trip through the rooms. Even more people tried to stop them, asking Richard if he meant to speak about Egypt or Delhi after supper, and Richard had to put them off as Evangeline grew increasingly tense.
In the first room once more, he spotted Gerhard, and made for the man in relief.
“Perhaps my sister or Rieger has seen them,” he told Evangeline.
Gerhard greeted Evangeline warmly, as did Clemency. Richard leaned close to his friend. “Have you seen Burke recently?”
“Ja, he was dancing with her young lady.” Gerhard nodded toward Evangeline, meaning her niece.
“Since the dancing ended,” Richard clarified.
Gerhard’s eyes slid toward Clemency, who was speaking to Evangeline. “We came in here as soon as the music stopped, to secure seats. I lost sight of them.”
Richard nodded.
“Mrs. Murray hasn’t seen them,” Evangeline whispered, plucking at his arm.
He led her out of the room, back into the blissful quiet of the ballroom.
Servants were scurrying around, tidying the room, and the musicians had laid down their instruments and gone to have a bite in the kitchens.
“Perhaps they stepped outside for a breath of air.” Tall French windows led onto a narrow terrace outside.
Her face softened with relief. “They must have.”
But when Richard opened the door and stepped out, the terrace was deserted.
There was no garden, merely a stand of trees to screen the view of the outbuildings.
He went to the railing and looked down, but saw no one.
Miss Bennet’s shimmering golden gown would be visible in the moonlight.
He turned back to Evangeline, but saw from her face she knew.
There was no sign of Miss Bennet or Viscount Burke.