Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
“What are you doing? Let go!”
Evelyn Bartlett, daughter of the Earl of Townshend, did not and would not let go of her friend Selina’s hand.
She would not until she won this auction, though she really could not go above three hundred pounds.
It was already everything she owned, everything she had scraped and saved over the twenty-two years of her life.
“Evie,” Selina hissed. “Evie, let go!”
Evelyn shook her head. “Not until they say you are the winner.”
“I do not have that amount of money, Evie,” Selina pleaded desperately. “And yes, he is handsome, but I do not want to pretend to be courted by him. You know that I have someone already!”
Evelyn did not look at her friend, her gaze fixed on the Duke of Ravenvale instead.
She could well understand why he was being declared as the most eligible gentleman in England, for, beside his well-documented fortune, he was undeniably handsome: tall and broad shouldered, his clothes becoming him very well thanks to a remarkably athletic physique, with a strong jaw and sculpted cheekbones, his handsome face complemented by wavy chestnut brown hair.
And his eyes were lovely, though one appeared to be a slightly different shade of blue to the other.
Not that she could tell right now, for he appeared to be… winking at her. At the very least, he had one eye closed for some reason.
“Going once,” the Duchess of Alderwick said, as a tense, anticipatory quiet settled across the crowd. “Going twice…”
“Evie!” Selina urged.
“Sold to the young lady over there!” the duchess announced, as the ballroom exploded with rapturous applause and a few cold stares from other bidders that Evelyn chose to ignore.
At last, Evelyn released Selina’s hand, and turned to her friend with a smile. “Do not worry about the cost, Selina. I shall pay for it, as long as you agree to attend the excursions.”
“Why would I agree?” Selina asked, wide-eyed with confusion. “I am already in love, Evie. I do not need to be venturing out on excursions with… the duke.”
Evelyn puffed out a breath. “Sir Anthony is no good for you, Selina. I know you believe he is sincere, but he will break your heart. You are my dearest friend, and I shall not allow anyone to break your heart.”
It had been several months since Selina began a correspondence with a gentleman by the name of Sir Anthony Dalkeith after a brief encounter at a dinner party.
Soft-hearted and romantic as she was, Selina had completely fallen for the man, but Evelyn happened to know that Sir Anthony was as renowned for his military endeavors as he was for his philandering.
A rake who would leave Selina’s reputation in tatters, the moment he lost interest in the chase.
“I love him,” Selina insisted.
“You barely know him,” Evelyn countered. “I know for a fact that he has been in London several times while you have also been there, yet he has not called upon you once.”
“He was very busy.”
“Too busy to have tea with you? Nonsense. If a gentleman is truly interested, he will make time,” Evelyn said, though she had no idea what a gentleman did when they were interested in a lady.
She had been out in society for three years with no success whatsoever.
Still, she had read about how it should be, and Sir Anthony was not behaving correctly at all.
Selina rolled her eyes. “He was busy.”
“And I repeat, that is nonsense. You are the diamond of the Season, Selina. He should be making time and if he will not, you should not be entertaining the idea of him a moment longer. Indeed, you should not be wasting this opportunity,” Evelyn replied pointedly.
Her friend was only two years younger than her, but she had the naivety of a girl who had not even debuted yet, a girl raised with dreams and romance, a girl who had not been taught to look out for the warnings before catastrophe could strike, a girl who believed that everyone around her was being honest and had her best interests at heart.
“Anyway, it is done now,” Evelyn said with a shrug. “You might as well enjoy your outings with the duke. If nothing else, it will increase your standing among society, and may even persuade Sir Anthony that what he is chasing is something very much worth keeping.”
She prayed that latter notion would not be the case, but she did not know how else to convince Selina that this was to her benefit.
Indeed, it was Evelyn’s hope that once Selina spent some time with her handsome prize, and saw how she was supposed to be treated, that she would forget all about that awful man, Sir Anthony.
“He is well liked, he is well connected, he has good manners, and he is charming,” Evelyn said, as if she were an expert in the subject of Hugo St. Vincent, the Duke of Ravenvale.
Selina quirked an eyebrow. “How do you know? You have never met the man.”
“I hear things,” Evelyn replied, for it was not untrue. There were advantages to being a wallflower in their third unsuccessful year. Namely, that people gossiped openly nearby without fear of it spreading, for whom would a wallflower tell?
“Yes, well, perhaps you do, but I cannot believe you have done this to me,” Selina muttered. “I have no interest in the man. I have no—”
They were interrupted by a parting crowd, the butterfly-flutter of fans, the whispers of ladies who had not won, and the appearance of the very gentleman that had caused such a stir amongst the merrymakers.
Goodness…
The duke was even more handsome up close, his eyes rather twinkly as if he laughed often, his hair of a silky texture that made Evelyn want to touch, his mouth curving up in a smile, as he extended a hand to Selina.
His eyes are slightly different colors, Evelyn noted. The left one was paler than the right, which had an almost greenish hue to it. It was not something easily noticed, especially not in the low light of the ballroom, unless one was looking very closely.
“I believe you are the victor,” he said in a deep, warm voice, as pleasant on the ears as his appearance was on the eyes.
Evelyn almost responded that she was, until she remembered that she was just the one who had thrust Selina’s hand up in the air and called out the final sum. She was the assistant to the victor, the mastermind who intended to get her friend out of her dangerous entanglement.
“This is Miss Selina Parsons,” Evelyn said quickly, once she realized that Selina was not saying anything.
Instead, she was staring coolly at Hugo, refusing to take his proffered hand.
“She is the eldest daughter to Baron Molesley,” Evelyn continued, flashing a strained smile at Selina as if to say, Come on, you must play along!
Hugo’s gaze had not left Selina’s, and he did not seem too dismayed that she was not falling at his feet as most of the other nearby ladies appeared to want to do. Rather, Selina’s indifference seemed to make Hugo’s smile widen and his eyes glitter with greater amusement.
“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Parsons,” Hugo said, bowing his head to her. “I am, as my dear cousin’s wife might have mentioned, Hugo St. Vincent, the Duke of Ravenvale.”
Selina dipped into the least enthusiastic of curtsies. “A pleasure, Your Grace.”
Evelyn grimaced inwardly, for there was not even the hint of delight in her friend’s voice.
Nevertheless, Hugo appeared unaffected by Selina’s coldness.
“I must say, I did not realize that I was of such value… though, in truth, I did not know that I would be part of the auction until a few minutes ago. If I had, perhaps I would have done something to increase the bidding: played something tolerably on the pianoforte, maybe sung a little ditty, or recited the first pages of Paradise Lost, so that everyone might think that I know the entire thing by heart. Of course, I do not; I am no glutton for punishment, but it makes for an excellent trick at parties.”
Evelyn chuckled and glanced encouragingly at Selina, who remained stony faced and unmoved by the duke’s first attempt at humor.
“Are they real roses in your hair?” he asked Selina in that warm, inviting voice, his hand moving as if he meant to touch the flowers, before withdrawing at the last moment.
“Silk,” Selina replied stiffly.
“They are? But they look so lifelike,” he remarked, his gaze flitting to the flowers before returning to Selina’s face. “I half imagined you out in the warm sunshine this afternoon, carefully picking the best ones to complement your hair and your complexion.”
Selina shrugged. “I have had them for years.”
The gentleman was known for his charm, yet it did not seem to be having any effect upon Evelyn’s friend at all.
Indeed, Selina was beginning to get a few annoyed looks from the nearest guests, particularly the young debutantes, who were probably wondering why she bid at all if she was not interested.
Selina will come around to the idea; I know she will.
Evelyn had to admit that Hugo’s famed charm was somewhat… predictable, the practiced compliments and observations of someone who did this often. Not a rake, perhaps, or she would have read about it in the scandal sheets, but certainly a gentleman who was not a stranger to flirtation.
Still, he was far more preferable than Sir Anthony. At least Hugo was actually looking for a wife instead of toying with as many women as possible, and he was wealthy and handsome. A prize, indeed.
“Would you care to dance, Miss Parsons?” Hugo asked. “That is, if there is a place for me upon your dance card.”
Selina looked away toward the dance floor, where the orchestra was beginning a new piece in the interim before the next item, or person, for auction could be announced.
Indeed, the other guests were slowly losing interest in the conversation, turning their attention back to the Duchess of Alderwick, who seemed to be discussing something with another man.
“I think not,” Selina replied. “My feet are rather sore.”