Chapter 7
Evan waited at the entrance of the art gallery, half-expecting Penelope to be egregiously late again. It would not matter if she was. He had enjoyed their first date together, and he was willing to wait as long as he needed to see her again.
Most people bored him with mundane conversations that conformed to social niceties.
Their motives could be different: perhaps they were attempting to flatter him in an effort to gain his good favor.
Or maybe they were uncomfortable and trying to get away as politely as possible.
He found both kinds of interactions to be equally unpleasant.
Meanwhile, Lady Penelope tried to scandalize him.
She didn’t falter once as she spoke rebellious things like reading Mary Wollstonecraft, or joking about magic spells and duels.
Very few people had the nerve to try to blatantly insult him, let alone young ladies looking for husbands.
He found the conversation refreshing and even enjoyable, which was rare for him.
Just as enjoyable was looking at her. She was a striking beauty with dark eyes and hair, even if she was so thin she looked a little severe. But he enjoyed making her blush, and wanted to take every opportunity to redden her cheeks.
So he was impatient for her to arrive so they could enjoy their second date. Unlike before, she was right on time. She got out of the carriage along with her chaperone. As soon as she saw him, she squared her shoulders and strode up to him swiftly. “Good afternoon, Your Grace.” She curtsied.
“Good afternoon, Lady Penelope,” he said, bowing his head in her direction. “I am pleased you were able to make it on time today.”
“I am only here for one purpose, and that is to persuade you not to ask for a third date.”
He smirked. “I daresay your purpose at the tea shop was to dissuade me from asking for a second date, and yet here we are.”
Her cheeks turned slightly pink, and he wanted to kiss her cheek right where she blushed.
Together, they went into the gallery, with her chaperone trailing behind them at a slight distance. The gallery had a few guests, but it was not crowded by any means. Neither of them said anything for a while as they looked at the paintings.
Penelope ended up stopping in front of a painting of a ship on a stormy sea. Evan watched her, trying to gauge what she was thinking, but her expression was carefully neutral. He decided to break the silence. “Do you—”
“Are you—”
They both smiled as they realized they spoke at the same time. Penelope’s smile quickly turned into a smirk. “So that mouth of yours is capable of smiling after all?”
My lady, you have no idea what this mouth is capable of. The thought entered his mind unbidden. He was grateful he had enough self-control to keep from blurting out every thought that entered his mind. “Wasn’t I smiling during our last date?”
The young lady snorted. “You looked like you wanted to murder me at the tea shop? If you smiled, it was so brief that I missed it.”
Peter had always told him he looked perpetually angry. He thought his brother was exaggerating, but now he had to admit there was some truth to that. “I was smiling internally.”
She laughed. “I’ll have to take your word for it, Your Grace.”
She looked so beautiful when she laughed and the sound was addictive.
It made him want to get her alone, to see how she behaved when there weren’t any prying eyes around.
He looked to see where her chaperone was.
The older lady was busy looking at a painting only a short distance away.
Undoubtedly, she was watching them out of the corner of her eye to make sure there was no chance of impropriety, but he suspected he would be able to separate them easily enough, at least for a moment or two.
“I certainly smiled when you accepted my invitation, my lady.”
She turned her gaze back to the painting, her smile fading.
“Your Grace, I confess I did not accept either of your invitations personally,” Penelope said.
“My parents accepted on my behalf. I hope you forgive me for taking up your valuable time, but despite what they think, I am simply not ready to be going on dates with anyone.”
“That is unfortunate,” he murmured. He was not surprised, especially because she had been doing nothing but trying to dissuade him from seeing her since they had first met.
“I must confess I did not send the first invitation myself. The dowager duchess is quite tenacious when she sets her sights on something, and she currently wishes to marry me off. However, I enjoyed our date much more than I expected.”
“I am flattered to have your attention, truly. But there are plenty of young ladies in the ton who are actually looking for a husband this Season. Surely you are better off giving your attention to one of them.”
“None of them would dare call me a hawk, especially to my face.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “Why did you call me a hawk, anyway?”
“I merely said you look like a hawk, Your Grace. Not that you are actually one.” She smiled as she looked at him. “It is because of your high cheekbones and eyebrows. Your eyes as well. They are cold and calculating.”
He clenched his jaw for a moment before he made himself relax again. He understood calculating. He considered himself a man of reason and logic. Perhaps he also had a need to control the circumstances around him as much as humanly possible.
But despite what the gossip rags thought of him, he never considered himself cold.
Not really. He had hoped someone like Penelope would be able to see that.
He would just have to make her see. “Lady Penelope, I understand your hesitation about me and your reluctance to marry. But I intend to court you for the rest of the Season.” He glanced back at her chaperone before he began walking again.
The young lady hurried to catch up, a look of indignation on her face. “You cannot just announce something like that, Your Grace,” she said. “Believe it or not, I have a choice in the matter as well.”
“Do you?” He retorted as he walked into another room of the gallery. “Your parents approve of me. I simply have to keep sending you invitations, which they will accept on your behalf.”
This room was smaller and featured paintings by a little-known artist—no doubt a favorite artist of one of the larger donors for the gallery, but one who sparked little interest in anyone else.
He doubted they would be disturbed here.
Even better, her chaperone hadn’t realized they had left.
He was truly alone with her now, and he felt a rush of satisfaction at the thought.
She hadn’t realized her predicament yet. Instead, she was giving him a look of outrage. “I promise you, Your Grace, if you try to court me against my will, then I will make your life a living hell.”
“I look forward to seeing you try,” he said, smirking. “It was quite entertaining the last time you tried.” He stepped closer to her and grabbed her gloved hand. It was so small compared to his own. “I think you will find my company not nearly as tedious as you expect.”
She tugged at her hand and he reluctantly let her pull it out of his grasp. “I never said your company would be tedious. I said I am not ready to find a husband, no matter what my parents think. I assure you, my decision has nothing to do with your character.”
“If you have no objections to my character, then you won’t mind going on dates with me.”
“Didn’t you hear what I just said?” She looked so indignant that he had to smile.
“Yes, my lady. You object to ensnaring a husband this Season. I assure you, I’m far from ensnared.
Believe it or not, the Season can still end without an engagement being announced.
” He grabbed her hand again, his thumb brushing gently against her knuckles.
“Perhaps I am perfectly happy not going home with a wife this Season. Perhaps I just want to get to know you.”
A small furrow appeared between her eyebrows. “Why would you possibly want to get to know me, Your Grace, if not to marry me?”
“Because you’re the most fascinating person I’ve spoken to in a long time.” He brought her hand up to his lips for a brief kiss. He wished he could kiss her bare skin instead of the soft fabric of her gloves.
She blushed as she looked up at him, but she did not pull away. Instead, she seemed entranced as she looked at him.
He stepped closer to her and leaned down until his lips were mere inches away from her own. He could smell her sweet perfume and he wanted to bury his face in her neck and breathe in the scent.
“Perhaps you were right to compare me to a hawk, Lady Penelope,” he murmured. “The thing about hawks is they always get their prey.”