Chapter 9
A Perfect Storm
The rain detained him longer than Nathaniel was willing to tolerate. What use was a title to an earl if he could not command the weather as he pleased?
Confounded storm! It was no English drizzle, of the sort so characteristic that dampened men’s moods and dirtied the hems of gowns.
Of course not! It was a constant downpour, furious and bent on turning the roads between Hounslow Park and London into a succession of impassable mud.
Of course! Because nothing could go right the first time for him, least of all where it had to do with Eveline.
Arden had spent the first night pacing back and forth in a house that was not his, with a special license he could not use and Statony’s confounded letter tormenting him without rest. He had folded it so many times that the paper already seemed to have aged several years.
Waiting was killing him.
Every lost hour offered him fresh images that enraged him.
Eveline in London. His Eveline walking into drawing rooms where half of society would already have heard some distorted version of the Hounslow Park scandal.
His Eveline smiling at gentlemen who did not deserve even to look at her.
His Eveline dancing with young men far too eager, accepting compliments, allowing some starch-collared fop to believe he had a chance with her.
God!
He saw it so clearly that it hurt. His unruly betrothed, strolling through half of London with Statony and his duchess, exposed to the curiosity of all those fools while he remained trapped in the country by a confounded storm.
Hell!
More than once he was on the point of ordering a horse made ready and chancing it. He held himself back each time, because dead he could do nothing useful. He needed to reach London, find her, and put an end to that absurd idea of seeking another gentleman.
Stubborn, obstinate woman… She needed no one but him. Why did she not understand it? It had been made more than clear to Nathaniel after that formidable kiss.
Amid torment, desperation, and assorted outbursts, the rain ceased at last. He had lost some precious days, but he would not give up.
That afternoon, when it finally stopped raining, the sky remained dark, but the roads were beginning to admit carriage wheels without the immediate threat of a great disaster.
So Arden waited no longer. He ordered the carriage harnessed, climbed in before the footman had finished apologizing for the delay, and spent a good part of the journey in silence, his fingers closed over the head of his cane and his jaw so taut that the pain from Statony’s blow awoke again.
When he arrived at the Duke of Statony’s town residence well into the night, he discovered he had come too late.
‘Their Graces and Lady Eveline have gone out, my lord,’ the butler informed him, a man the earl knew well. Very measured and discreet.
‘Where?’
‘To a party, my lord.’
‘That I had already deduced. To what party?!’ he barked, exasperated.
The man did not flinch.
‘I could not say which one, my lord.’
Arden looked at him in silence. The butler withstood his ill humor with dignity.
‘Is there no one in this house who knows which party the family has gone to?’
‘No, my lord. I am sorry.’
Could it be a lie? Arden thought of Statony and that irritatingly serene letter his supposed best friend had left him. Were they protecting her from him and had told the staff to say nothing? He did not know what to think. Only that he was very irritated and his patience no longer existed.
Confound Statony and confound the loyal staff!
‘If they return before I do, tell the duke I am looking for him. And he had best open the door to me, whatever the hour.’
‘Of course, my lord.’
Arden left without thanking him for anything.
The first house he went to was not the right one.
There he found two hundred candles, an orchestra too enthusiastic, and a hostess delighted to see him, but no trace of the duke and duchess or of Eveline.
At the second, a sharp-nosed lady full of curiosity inquired about his recent engagement before he could ask after anyone.
Arden answered with a courtesy so icy that the woman drew back half a step and vanished at once.
At the third party, at last, he found her.
Hallelujah! At last a little luck, he thought, before the nightmare began.
Lady Brackenbury’s drawing room was filled to excess. There were too many feathers, a great deal of laughter, and a large number of men looking towards the same area of the room. Arden did not need to follow their eyes for long to know what was causing so much interest. There she was.
Eveline was dancing with a young gentleman of dark hair and a great deal of smiling.
This one was not like Linfield; he seemed less interested in her, cordial rather, which kept Arden from committing an act of immediate violence, though it did not improve his mood.
Ah, but then there came a change. He said something, she smiled at him frankly, and the fool then did begin to look at her with admiration, a stupid adoration that made Arden’s blood boil.
And Eveline, instead of leaving him standing in the middle of the dance floor, went on smiling at him.
She was smiling at another who was not him!
That gesture made him clench his fists and his jaw.
He had dreamed of finding her downcast, perhaps angry or resolved to demand explanations of him.
Because he had given her an unforgettable kiss, and she ought to have been left devastated when he departed the country estate, ought she not?
No, of course not! She had to be smiling in the arms of a stranger while all London wondered whether the Earl of Arden had been a passing accident in a gazebo.
He crossed his arms and arranged his best parliamentary expression.
Yes, yes. The one he used to lay low his political opponents with a single look.
And he waited to make eye contact with his betrothed.
It was either that or run towards her and throw her over his shoulder.
And although the second option struck him as more effective, he could not do it, because Statony would once more bring his fist down on him.
He armed himself with patience as he positioned himself in a more suitable place for her to see him.
And then she saw him.
Eveline lost the step in the dance, and the fool accompanying her had to adjust his movement so as not to tread on the edge of her gown.
The lady recovered her composure quickly and raised her chin.
Did she have the boldness to defy him?! Oh, yes.
Because Eveline did not look away at once from his gaze.
The storm that had ravaged Statony’s country house was nothing compared to what was coming.
Since he had already executed the first move to intimidate her to perfection, the earl decided to remain motionless beside one of the columns. He kept his arms crossed and his gaze fixed on her.
And Statony’s sister certainly sought him out with her eyes again and again, but she did not lower her chin when their eyes met.
That gesture, so bold and so recurrent, would have made him smile in other circumstances.
In this one, it set his blood alight all the more.
He knew her well. He knew she was furious and was conveying it to him in the way she could.
The lady was surely irritated because he had just appeared and reminded her, without words but very harshly, that she was not free to dance with whomever she pleased if it was to encourage the attentions of a new suitor.
She was engaged to him!
Arden breathed slowly. He was holding himself back from going to her, interrupting the dance, and claiming her in front of everyone.
He had been wrong about one matter, and it was that he still had some patience left with which to restrain himself.
So he did not follow his most primal instincts, because to do such a thing—besides which Statony would strike him—would contribute to giving the guests something better to murmur about for the next fortnight.
The temptation was so strong that it nearly made him advance.
But he was not an animal. At least, not entirely yet…
When he felt he could bear no more, he forced himself to take his gaze from Eveline to seek out the party’s hostess.
Lady Brackenbury was near the opposite end of the room, surrounded by ladies and an elderly gentleman who seemed to have lost the thread of the conversation some time ago.
Arden crossed the room with determination.
This nonsense of seeking another man had to end at once, or he would end up in an asylum.
‘Lady Brackenbury,’ he greeted her.
The woman turned, and her face lit up on recognizing him. She was a widow of excellent position, with a great fondness for novelties and very little resistance to a piece of news that might raise the interest of an evening. Just the collaboration he needed.
‘Lord Arden, what a pleasure to see you in my house. I did not know you were in London.’
He clenched his teeth. It was clear that his absence, while his betrothed amused herself, had not gone unnoticed.
‘I have only just arrived. I had urgent matters to attend to.’
‘Then you honor me doubly.’
‘The honor is mine. In fact, I wish to request your help with a crucial matter.’
The hostess’s eyes shone. It was not elegant, but it was sincere.
‘Crucial?’
‘I do not know whether the news has reached you, but relatively recently I have entered into a matrimonial engagement. Owing to various circumstances, the announcement has not yet been presented to society with the clarity it deserves.’
Lady Brackenbury, who would have heard rumors she had no doubt fed with moderation, and who had just been given the chance to turn her ball into the setting for an official confirmation, almost forgot to close her mouth.
‘My lord… Do you mean that you intend to announce your engagement at my party?’