Chapter 2
Chapter
Two
E vangeline did not know much about who the gentleman lord was or what he was doing in her brother-in-law’s library, but she could not deny the fact that his hiding away from the ball—which everyone else seemed to be enjoying—was rather intriguing.
Not that he seemed particularly forward or engaging. For the past several minutes, he had said little and stared most rudely.
Was he a simpleton? Maybe he was stupefied at her beauty. She almost scoffed at the absurd thought. “Are you supposed to be in the library? The duke is with my sister out in the ballroom. Perhaps you ought to return there if you wish to speak to His Grace.”
“The duke will be along shortly. I am awaiting him here.” Lord St. George moved away from his chair—finally—and came toward her. He reached out and clasped her hand, kissing the tops of her gloved fingers.
Something in the way he looked at her when he kissed her made the pit of her stomach clench. He was a handsome man, even if he sported what she assumed to be a nasty gash on his face from some past altercation. The scar gave him an air of danger and mystery, and her interest was piqued.
“You are the duke’s sister-in-law?” he queried, stepping back and releasing her hand.
She nodded and fought not to drink in the sight of him like a woman who had not had a glass of wine in several hours. He was tall, muscular, and his face was chiseled so perfectly she had the urge to reach out and see for herself if he were cut from marble.
Above all his handsome looks, however, he was guarded—but his eyes were his best feature. They were the darkest blue she had ever beheld, and looked upon her with kindness. Not an ogre then.
Evangeline decided on the spot that she would like this man, and if the duke was his friend, then he could also be hers.
“I am, my lord. I am Lady Evangeline Ravensmere. My father was the late Duke of Ravensmere.”
His gaze dipped to her lips, and she wondered what he was thinking. A small, pained frown buffeted his brow before he turned on his heel and moved back toward his chair.
“Would you care to join me while I wait for Ravensmere? I was doing nothing in particular, and I would welcome your company. You do not seem too trying.”
Evangeline scoffed and sat across from him. “Well, my lord, you do not know me very well at all. But I will try not to be a trying, feeble woman who distresses and bores you. Will that do very well?”
His brows rose, but he had the grace not to argue.
“You seemed distressed when you entered the room,” he said, changing the subject. “Are you not enjoying the ball? Is it not your coming out this evening?”
Evangeline sighed and slumped back in the chair. By habit, she lifted her feet to sit beside her and leaned on the armrest.
“It is, alas. But after hearing what those supposed gentlemen admirers had to say, I find it all rather lacking now. I thought men who courted ladies would only do so once they had finished with all that nonsense in the seedier parts of town. It would seem that I am wrong.”
“They are boys, Lady Evangeline. You perhaps ought to look for a man to court you.”
Although shocking, what he said was not untrue. She had thought this evening that the young men who bowed and asked her to dance were as young as she was, but far more immature when it came to their likes and pastimes.
If she had to hear one more thing about hunting season in the country and what good sport it was—although shooting was not for the fairer sex—she would scream.
That she could likely shoot better than any of them, should she be given the chance, was not even a possibility to them. And that type of man could never be her husband. Maybe Lord St. George was right, and she should look for an older gentleman.
“How old are you, my lord?”
He laughed, and although he seemed surprised by his own outburst, he at least continued to smile while he gathered himself. If Evangeline had thought him handsome before he smiled, well—how very wrong she was.
The man was utterly beautiful when he smiled, and she could not help but study his lips for several moments, wondering if they were as soft as she presumed them to be. His eyes lit up and his whole demeaner changed, making him personable and desirable.
Not that she would ever know such facts. He seemed much older than she, and more mature—not to mention he was Ravensmere’s friend. He would not look to her as a possible candidate for his wife. He would more likely view her as part of his extended family, if his friendship with her brother-in-law was as close as she presumed it to be.
“I am far too old for you.”
She frowned, leaning forward to get a better look at him under the candlelight. “You cannot be any older than Ravensmere, and he married my sister.”
“And how old are you?” he asked, as bold as she had been.
She grinned and leaned back in her chair. “How old do you think I am?”
“Eighteen,” he blurted, without a by-your-leave.
“I am two and twenty, my lord. Older than you thought, I should imagine.”
His eyes narrowed on her, and she would have loved to know what he was thinking—what was going on in that mind of his, inside that very handsome head. “You are correct. And I wonder at you only now having your coming out. Are they not the done thing when one is eighteen?”
“That is true, they normally are. But our late father did not care for us much—we being the horrible females he sired—and so we were never given a Season when we should have been. If it were not for my lovely brother-in-law, I should say we would all still be rotting away in the country. Not that I mind so very much the country—I do love the outdoors—but I did wish for a Season, if only to marry and get away from Papa when we did happen to see him.”
Evangeline shut her mouth with a snap, hoping she had not said too much. Sometimes she had a tendency to speak more than she should, and perhaps now was one of those times.
His lordship stared at her, taking in her words, and she hoped he would not say too much on the subject. Even though she had brought it up, she disliked speaking of her father because it always ended with her being a little too cutting toward the man. And he was now passed, and one ought not speak ill of the dead.
“Well, I am sorry for you if that is the case. And happy that you have at long last made it to London. I do hope you find what you are hoping for this Season, since it has been a long time coming.”
“I do too. And thank you, my lord.”
She liked him very much. He was not what she had been expecting to find in the library, but she was grateful for the distraction. Otherwise, she may still have been stomping about and voicing her displeasure at the world—alone.
At least now, she could voice her concerns to someone who did not seem to want to dismiss them as silly female issues.
“The Season has just commenced, and I am certain that it shall improve—now that I know the true nature of some of my courters.” She studied him a moment, drinking in the sight of him and his ruggedness. “You did not care to join the ball, my lord? Is that why you’re secured away here in Ravensmere’s library?”
“You presume correct. But please do not think that it was on account of the ball being in your honor. I am still weary from my travels and did not feel much like socializing this evening. But I did wish to speak to Ravensmere. He is a good friend I have not seen in some years.”
“Well, we are sorry for you not being at the ball, but that is quite understandable. Traveling from Hampshire to London wearied me out, and it took me several days to stop yawning all over the place. Where did you travel from, my lord? York? Scotland, perhaps?”
“Italy.”
Evangeline gaped, having not expected that location as an answer. But with it came an array of questions. “How wonderful. What is it like there? Is it warmer than England? Are the people kind?”
“It is a wonderful place. And should the opportunity ever arise, you ought to travel there. Mayhap your husband will take you for your honeymoon.”
“Perhaps. One can only hope I gain a husband who is willing.”
“Do not marry a man who is not.”
“You make it sound so easy, my lord.” She smiled, and yet, she heard the derision in her tone. So far this evening, she doubted any gentleman would travel past the turnpike out of London.
He nodded.
“Because it is.”