Chapter Three
Michael couldn’t believe his luck. The widow he wished to gain an introduction to, at the very least, or pursue at best, was slowly wending her way around the perimeter of the room, headed in his direction.
“Look, there.” He directed the Duke of Steppingford’s attention to her, for he’d been chatting with his friend for the past few moments. “Do you know who that woman is?”
Steppingford half-turned to follow Michael’s gaze. “Ah, yes. That is Lady Evangeline. Daughter of an earl. Widow of the late Marquess of Marklesfield.”
“Mmm.” Letting his gaze linger on her, he took the opportunity to study her as she paused to greet someone who hailed her.
Of average height, her upswept blonde hair drew his notice to her slender neck and the baby fine curls that hugged her nape.
That was one of his favorite places on a woman’s body, both for the thrill of kissing the skin and how it affected her.
The blue gown she wore hugged her form to naturally accentuate and bring attention to her full breasts and slightly rounded hips.
Easily he could imagine gripping those hips as he thrust into her body…
As interest shivered along his shaft, he cleared his throat. “How do you know her?”
Steppingford lifted an eyebrow in surprise. “She and my wife work on the same charity together. It benefits war widows and the children who are left behind. We have had her over to dinner a few times in the past year while she’s been in mourning.”
Of course, he already knew that information. Once more, he sought her out with his gaze. “What sort of person is she?”
Steppingford shrugged. “I only know her as well as a person can over dinner or drinks afterward. She seems to be a decent sort. It always rubbed me the wrong way that a woman like her was wasted being married to Marklesfield.” He narrowed his gaze on Michael.
“She either must have endless patience or boundless strength to endure all that he was… all that he inflicted upon her.”
Everyone in the beau monde knew what sort of man the marquess had been, but it hadn’t sunk into Michael’s brain until he saw the widow. “Perhaps it’s a matter of integrity.”
“Perhaps.” A frown tugged at the corners of Steppingford’s mouth as he watched her approach, and when she came close, he smiled, took her hand. “Ah, Lady Evangeline. How nice to see you circulating within society again.”
“Steppingford! I didn’t expect to see you here tonight.” She returned his smile when he kissed the back of her gloved hand. The faint scent of lilacs and something sweeter, perhaps sugar or vanilla, drifted to Michael’s nose as she moved. “Where is the duchess?”
“Hannah decided to stay home. Having a one-year-old has exhausted her, and even though there are nursery maids and a wet nurse, she much prefers being a mother in the traditional sense.” Pride threaded through his voice and reflected in his expression that put an odd longing into Michael’s chest. “But she does enjoy your company when you come over to the house. Confinement, I think, is losing its charm.”
“Well, Hannah is truly an admirable woman,” Lady Evangeline said warmly, and when her lips curved into a smile, something awoke deep in Michael’s chest. “She often boasts about your son and how much she adores being at home with you both. However, perhaps she could do with an outing or two.”
“I quite agree. Come by and go out to the shops soon.” Steppingford nodded.
Pleasure and dare he say happiness mixed within his expression.
“She is truly my oasis for calm. I don’t know what my life would have been if I’d not met her.
” Then he turned to Michael with a wink.
“Speaking of meetings, I’d like for you to meet the Duke of Darkemore.
I’ve known him for years from my club. Why he’s here tonight is a mystery, for he dislikes society, gatherings, and people in general, but you shouldn’t waste the boon of him being at this ball. ”
Well, that was a damning introduction. Michael huffed. “Am I such a recluse then?” What was the man playing at?
“You know you are, rotting away in Cornwall.” Steppingford shook his head. “Nasty business, that. Too isolated for me.”
“Right, as if you don't spirit your wife off to your country estate every chance you get.”
“I won’t deny it.” A cheeky expression crossed his face, erasing more than a few years.
“I have my wife with me for obvious reasons, while you sit ensconced in that drafty pile of a manor house by yourself, brooding.”
“Come off it, man.” This was ridiculous.
Michael glanced at the lady, who watched them with amusement in her hazel eyes.
“By the by, good evening, Lady Evangeline. I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.
” Reminding himself to play the part of a gentleman, he took one of her hands and brought it to his lips. Then he kissed the middle knuckle.
Curiosity reflected in her eyes. “As am I, Darkemore. When I spied you from across the room, I asked Mrs. Cunningham about you.” Gently, she tugged her hand from his.
“Oh? And she told you what?” His voice was guarded even to his own ears while Steppingford turned his laugh into a cough.
“Anne said you were reclusive, but that you were perhaps a decent sort, so I was curious.”
He couldn’t help but snort. “Decent sort?” When had that ever been said about him? “That isn’t how I’d describe myself.”
“Ah.” She peered up at him with interest sparkling in her eyes. “How would you describe yourself, then?”
“Dangerous. Aloof. Driven. Wicked.”
“All good adjectives.” Steppingford fairly cackled.
“And none of them are far off from the truth.” He clapped a hand on Michael’s shoulder.
He glanced across the room and raised a hand.
“Ah, but now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve seen an acquaintance I’d like to speak with before I quit the ball for home. ”
“Enjoy the remainder of the evening, Steppingford.” Awareness rippled over his skin at being alone with the woman who would hopefully put him close to his quarry. It collided with wariness, though. One couldn’t be too careful these days. “How are you liking you first foray back into society?”
“Well enough, though I don’t remember society being so full of… empty noise and blatant come-hither glances. Or perhaps I am feeling quite old comparing myself to the young ladies here tonight.”
“As if age has been unkind to you,” he murmured quietly as he raked his gaze up and down her person. “Unless I’ve missed my guess, you easily outshine most of the women in attendance.”
“How sweet of you to say.” She leaned slightly closer, and again, the floral scent of her teased his nose. “And how clever of you to notice.”
“Ha.” It had been quite some time since he flirted with anyone. “How could I not?”
As he watched, her eyes darkened to more green than brown. “Well, Darkemore, are you going to lead me out in the next set, or am I wasting my time? I did come to this ball tonight to make connections.”
Connections for what? And why? But the words hooked his interest. “Due to my disfigurement, I don’t make it a habit to dance and put myself on display.” As he spoke, Michael tapped a gloved finger on the head of his cane.
“I see.” Her expression shifted into one of disappointment. “Well, that is too bad.”
What was she playing at? Or was it simply an innocent game of flirtation?
“However, I wouldn’t mind removing to somewhere quieter and more conducive to…
talking.” If he were to attempt tracking and ultimately putting down the Jackal, he needed to get close to this woman, for she was the key in drawing him out.
How close was she to her husband’s best friend?
One of her blonde-brown eyebrows rose. Though her attention briefly darted to the scar on his brow, she snapped it to his eyes after a second. “What do you have in mind, Your Grace?”
Such easy prey. How disappointing. “Let us remove to the library on the main floor. I rather doubt this crowd will have an interest in reading tonight.”
“Very well.” The interest in her eyes intensified as her gaze lingered on him. What was she thinking, and for that matter, what did she think of him? He wasn’t exactly a prize within the ton. “I shall go down first. Follow me in a quarter of an hour.”
With a nod, he couldn’t help but watch her walk away. Damn, those hips were perfection. Shortly after, Steppingford returned to his side.
“Well, do you have an assignation?”
That was up for interpretation. “I’m not certain, but I do wish to talk privately with the lady, and she has agreed. We’re meeting in the library in a quarter hour.”
“Ah, how very spy-like.” The other man chuckled. “Do you think she’ll lead you to the Jackal?”
“That is the hope.”
“Hmm.” For long moments, Steppingford regarded him. “You could court her, you know. From the looks of things, you rubbed on well enough with her. Where is the harm?”
“Enough, man.” Michael snorted in derision. “I am not looking for romance or even love. Once my mission is complete, I will return to Cornwall and live out my days, however long they prove.”
Steppingford shot him an inscrutable glance. “There is more to life than that, my friend. In fact, now that the war is behind you, there is much to live for.”
“I wonder,” he said in a low voice. Then he shrugged.
“Right now, I have a chance to close my last mission for the Crown. Afterward? Who knows, but I am not interested in entangling my life with someone else’s.
” It would always prove too dangerous, and if that wasn’t the truth, then his problems as a man would be a wall between him and everyone else.
Hadn’t his life for the past few years shown that?
Steppingford shook his head. “Then use Lady Evangeline for a few good fucks, kill your quarry, and vanish. If you feel that will satisfy you, no harm done, but if you feel… something else, follow the urging. It might lead you to something unexpected.”
Perhaps that wasn’t somewhere he wished to go. “I am unsure at this point.”