Chapter 6
Chapter
Six
E zra inwardly cringed and stood, having left as much time as he possibly could before heading into the afternoon tea his mother had arranged.
He adjusted his cravat and checked his attire, downing the last of his coffee before making his way toward the drawing room to face whomever his mother had invited.
The closer he came to the room, the more pressure settled on his chest. The sound of women’s voices, laughter, and everything altogether too feminine bombarded him, and he paused at the threshold, wavering between entering and retreating to his office—or perhaps leaving the house entirely.
His mother would be cross, would likely scold him as she had when he was a boy, but she would also move on from her annoyance quickly enough. He would be forgiven.
“I did not take you as a gentleman who’s frightened of a group of women, Lord St. George. How interesting that is to me. I shall keep that little tidbit in my pocket just in case I need it later.”
Ezra spun at the sound of Lady Evangeline Ravensmere’s voice. She stood behind him, eyes bright with amusement, a small half smile gracing her lips as she watched him debating between bravery and cowardice.
Not that he was a coward. He had placed himself in many dangerous situations during his time serving the Foreign Office. But ladies—ladies held their own kind of danger. One he wasn’t yet ready to face.
“Lady Evangeline. You indeed have caught me. I was just about to go in and welcome everyone.”
He paused, drinking in the sight of her. The familiarity to Luisa forever made his chest pinch. He ought not to look at Lady Evangeline and think of another. They were both their own people, but he could not help it. Lady Evangeline—alive and well, teasing and sweet—was the very exact likeness of Luisa, if ever he believed in such a thing.
It was uncanny and unnerving all at once.
“Have you just arrived?” he asked, changing the subject.
“Oh no,” she said, waving away his words. “I’m here with my sister, the duchess, but I needed to, ah…” A light blush stole across her cheeks, and Ezra cleared his throat, understanding perfectly why she had left the tea.
“Would you like me to escort you inside?”
She pursed her lips in thought before shaking her head. “No. I’m quite capable of returning to the room. But I would like a tour of the house. It’s quite magnificent. For an earl…”
She chuckled at her own jest, and Ezra could not help but laugh as well. The sound startled him. It had been so long since he’d laughed spontaneously. With the outburst came the guilt that always followed—guilt that he was capable of laughter, of enjoyment, when others under his care were not.
“I’m certain you do not wish to see the house, my lady. You are the daughter of a duke. You’ve seen much grander estates than this.”
“You may be surprised.” Her smile slipped slightly at his denial, and he could not allow that.
“Come.” Ezra held out his arm, and just like the clouds moving away from the sun, her smile returned to its rightful place. “I will show you around quickly, before we both return to the tea.”
“That sounds heavenly, my lord.”
He walked her toward the front of the house and pointed out the dining room, his library, and his mother’s private parlor that overlooked Berkley Square. No doubt, it was a sitting room his mother would miss when she moved into the dowager house. She loved to gossip and watch the happenings beyond her windows at any given moment.
Ezra ensured they kept within view of the servants, not wanting any untoward rumors to circulate should they be seen. He then escorted her toward the back of the house, past the door where his mother hosted her guests, and into the conservatory.
“This is delightful,” she said, letting go of his arm and walking to the fountain. The gentle tinkling of water played its soothing melody, calming his usually guarded soul.
She sat on the edge and ran her fingers along the top of the water. Several golden fish darted away from her touch, and he smiled at the quiet chuckle that slipped from her lips.
“How darling are these fish? We only ever had horses at home. Father would not let us have any pets.”
Ezra joined her at the fountain and sat beside her. “I do not know that I would call fish pets, my lady. That may be an exaggeration.”
“But they are,” she argued, meeting his gaze. “You feed them. You give them a home. You do not mistreat or eat them. What are they, if not pets?”
He supposed she was right. Without thinking, he slipped his hand into the water beside hers, running his fingers through the cool surface. “I concede your point. I have fish for pets.”
She laughed again, and for a moment, he could not look away. She was so beautiful, so kind, so full of life. How could one not stare when faced with such a masterpiece?
“You’re staring again, Lord St. George. If I have to keep reminding you of your conduct when it comes to my person, I shall start to think that your willingness to add yourself to my list of courters is imminent.”
“I’m sorry. My apologies, my lady. You remind me of someone I used to know.” He smiled at the bittersweet memory. “I cannot help but look at you sometimes and not think of them.”
She frowned slightly and, before he could stop her, clasped his hand beneath the water. “Why do you speak of them in the past tense? Are you no longer acquainted?”
He wished that were the case. Oh, how he wished it was as simple as having lost touch. “Sadly, no. They passed. And so seeing you is like seeing a…” He could not say the word. He would not voice the cruelty of it.
“A ghost?” she finished for him. “Well then, you have leave to look at me as much as you choose, so long as it does not make you sad.” Her fingers squeezed his, and without thought, he laced them fully with his own. “I only wish for you to be happy, my lord. I’ve had my share of sadness in life, and I do not want any more of it.”
“So we both have melancholic lives. How droll we must be.” His attempt to lighten the mood worked, and she smiled—once again the happy, radiant woman he had met the night before.
“We should make an agreement, my lord. That we will not be so when in each other’s presence. That we shall cheer one another should we find ourselves wallowing in the past.”
He tipped his head, curious. “Has something untoward occurred in your life that I may know of? I do not wish to pry, but I also do not want to say anything that may injure you.”
“Our father—the late duke—did not love us, my lord. In fact, he left us in the country with no plan to bring us to London. I do not wish to suffer a marriage like my mother’s. I want a love match. A gentleman who will love any children we may have and be happy with whatever outcome life brings. I do not wish for any of my daughters to be left to rot until they are almost too old to debut in London.”
Realizing that he was still holding Lady Evangeline’s hand, Ezra let go and pulled out his handkerchief, drying his fingers. “You are not old, my lady. You are but starting out your life and have many wonderful years ahead. Do not lose yourself in the past. There is no future there. I know. I visit it often enough.”
She watched him, and he knew she was curious about whom he spoke of—but he could not bring himself to mention Luisa. Somehow it felt wrong to speak of her with another woman. Like he was being unfaithful in some way. Maybe one day, he would tell Lady Evangeline the sad tale. But not today.
“Evangeline, there you are!”
Ezra jumped at the sound of the Duchess of Ravensmere, and so too did Evangeline. Thankfully, they were seated a respectful distance apart—and no longer holding hands, yet still, his heart raced as if he’d done something wrong. Had been caught being inappropriate.
But the sudden interruption startled Evangeline so thoroughly that she lurched on the edge of the fountain and tumbled back into the water, arms flailing as she landed with a splash.
Worse—a small yellow fish flopped from the fountain onto the tiled floor, flapping about as it tried to survive out of water.
“Oh no, my lord. A fish. Help it!” he heard Lady Evangeline yell as she scrambled to her feet in the water, dripping wet and wide-eyed.
Ezra rushed to scoop up the fish and tossed it back into the fountain before turning toward her.
A mistake.
Because when he looked—when he truly looked—what the water had revealed took all coherent thought from his mind.