He smiled again, a quick, lively grin. “I am afraid you exaggerate my popularity. I have but twenty friends here, hunters mostly. And their wives and friends as well. Of course.”
This close, Evelyn could see the tiny wrinkles at the corners of his eyes – smile-lines – and smell the clove and musk of his cologne. She breathed in deeply, feeling her heart pound, and looked around. The ballroom was a smaller scale than the vast hall at her home, and he was right – there were possibly fifty people in it, maybe slightly more. In the chamber-like space, it simply seemed there were a hundred people.
“You are right,” she said, raising a brow. “Perhaps fifty. Fifty-two, with us added.”
He laughed. “You are observant. I must admit, it is a rare quality.”
Evelyn felt her throat tighten and a blush creep up her neck. “Thank you.”
His eyes were warm on her. “I would be pleased to discover whether your dancing is as appealing as I know the rest of you is.”
Evelyn swallowed hard. The blush was growing, warming her from toes to forehead. “And I would be pleased to discover whether you are as accomplished on the floor as in your speaking,” she said.
He roared with laughter. “I like your wit, my lady.”
She dimpled. “I must say, it is rare that I employ it on so understanding an audience.”
He squeezed her hand eyes bright with merriment. “Shall we dance?”
She nodded and they whirled onto the floor. He was, if anything, she thought as he bowed and she curtseyed at the end of the measure, even more accomplished on the floor than in his words. Graceful and lithe, clearly trained from an early age, he moved over the marble like fire on ice. She felt pleased to be his partner.
They danced another two measures together before Evelyn protested, laughing, that she was worn out. “I cannot dance another step, my lord,” she said, fanning a hand in the air to cool her perspiration.
“I am pleased to have tired you, my lady,” Barrett smiled warmly.
“You are?” Evelyn raised a brow enquiringly.
“For if you are tired,” he explained, “you shall have to sit and talk with me all evening.”
Evelyn laughed. “I assure you, my lord, it is a duty I would perform were I fully revitalized as well as being as exhausted as I am now.”
He smiled tenderly. “I thank you.”
They sat. They talked. They laughed. Evelyn heard all about his pastimes: hunting, riding, dancing. Swordcraft. He in turn asked her about her sewing and her poetry. She even shyly produced a sample from her purse, written in a booklet that she carried everywhere.
“My lady,” he said, clearing his throat as he read it. “You are admirably accomplished.” He handed her the poem.
She looked down, feeling tears threaten to fall. She never shared her work with anyone. Maybe Stella, once – but no one had appreciated it as he did. “Thank you.”
He looked up at the ceiling, thinking. “You are English, yes?”
Evelyn laughed. “Half-English. It is complicated. Why?”
“I was simply wondering how I had not met you before now? I myself travel often between London and my lands here, and I am surprised we have not met before.”
“I suppose it is because I keep myself to myself up here,” Evelyn said, a little shyly. “I am only in London every few years.”
He raised a brow. “You are? Why so few, if I may ask, my lady?”
“I suppose I do not like the loudness of it, the disturbance. Here it is quieter.”
He nodded. “Wise lady. I confess I sometimes hate the bustle and loudness of Town myself. I much prefer it here. Had I the opportunity to stay all year, I would take it.”
Evelyn smiled. “I am glad it meets with your approval. Our country ways must be tedious to someone from the city.”
He shook his head vehemently. “Not in the least! London is burdensome. I am only there to attend to my duties.”
“Your duties?”
“I assist with management of the estate,” he confessed. “Though Father is of course amply capable, the thing is so sprawling now, since my mother passed away, that a second hand is needed. That is where my duties begin,” he said, smiling ruefully.
“I am sure you are admirable in your duties.”
He laughed. “I am pleased I give the impression. Had you seen me talking to my solicitor in London, you would think I was sorely lacking.”
She laughed lightly. “My lord, you are lacking in no way.”
Their eyes met, and it was as if ice fell into fire – a spark leaped between them. Evelyn felt his gaze like a caress and wished she need never look away. He seemed disinclined to break the gaze.
He cleared his throat. “My dear lady? If you will be so kind as to excuse me a moment? All that dancing and wit have left me parched and I must needs refill my glass. If I may fetch you something?”
Evelyn agreed, feeling a strange bereavement as he walked away and headed to the refreshments table. She stood, dazed.
She watched his strong back pass between the lines of guests around the table. Even the way he moved enticed her. He had the easy grace of a hunting predator. He took some time returning, and she saw why – he had been cornered by an older gentleman who seemed determined to discuss some lengthy business. Evelyn sighed. Without his presence, the room was somehow darker. She cast her eye around and caught sight of someone she knew. She was surprised when she saw a face she recognized, and even more surprised when she realized who it was.
“Alexandra!” She covered her mouth with her hand, realizing she had said it quite loudly in her surprise. The woman turned to face her.
“Eva!”
The two women embraced. Alexandra Peterson, daughter of the Marquess of Leith, was a small, sharp-faced woman with wide brown eyes and beautiful red curls. She looked up at Evelyn, flawless white teeth bared in a smile. “I did not expect you to be here,” she said at once. “I did not even know you were still in the country!”
“I did not expect to be here!” Evelyn laughed. “Are you here with Lionel?”
Alexandra nodded. “He insisted on coming for the hunt. Heaven knows why he has to drag me along...” She rolled her eyes and Evelyn giggled. Alexandra was her best friend, a regular visitor at Donnelly Park throughout her childhood. It was a pleasant surprise to see her here.
“I am sure you know he loves your company, Alle,” she grinned.
Alexandra huffed a sigh. “You think that. Myself, I think he just wants me as anti-debutante assurance.” She inclined her head toward where a slim man with dark curls stood talking to a group of other men. “Not that there are many young women here tonight, I might add,” she commented curiously.
“True,” Evelyn agreed. Alexandra shared a tendency to notice things, one of the qualities that had brought the girls together from their early years. “I suppose it is because it is a hunting party.”
“Indeed,” Alexandra commented. “And there are few women who enjoy the sight of blood on snow.” She raised an eyebrow and Evelyn grinned.
Of all the people she knew, Alexandra was the only person to whom she had ever related her experience as a child and the strange thrill the sight had given her. She had prudently left out the bit about the Dark-Haired Man when relating the story, convinced by then that he was a figment of her imagination. But there he was. Right there.
She glanced over Alexandra's head and saw him in the corner, talking to a shorter wheat-haired man and a lady with a plume in her hair. She would have been jealous, but that the other man was beside her and she laid a hand on his arm, making it clear they were attending together.
Alexandra had noticed the way she glanced over at the corner of the room. Evelyn had done it more than once, and she inwardly cursed her friend’s observance as Alexandra said sharply:
“You are paying undue attention to the wall-fresco, Evelyn.”
Evelyn grinned. Alexandra rolled her eyes at her. “Trust you to notice it!” Evelyn replied.
/>
“Out with it, Evelyn. Who is it that holds your eye so?”
“That man, there. Talking to the ostrich-plume lady?”
Alexandra waited until a moment when she would not be observed and then glanced sideways. She stared, and her face changed. Hardened. Then she turned back to Evelyn. “No,” she said flatly. “No, Evelyn.”
“What, my dear?” Evelyn was distressed. Why was her friend so angry with her?
“Not that man. He is evil.”
Evelyn stared. “What?” She shook her head. Not someone else with the same story. Why? “No, Alle. No person is evil. Why did you say that?” she asked sharply.
“He is,” Alexandra insisted. “I know. Rupert, Lord Tallinn, told me. They are wicked. Lord Tallinn said something about murder, about blood on their hands. He said they are evil!” Her eyes narrowed and she almost hissed the words.
“Be reasonable, dear Alexandra,” Evelyn said softly. “We are well-taught ladies. We know there is no such thing as evil.” She shivered. “There is only ignorance.” She said the words firmly, but at the back of her mind a tiny doubt was starting to grow.
“I know that, Evvie!” Alexandra said impatiently. She seemed to relax, and she shook her head. “You are right, my dear. Thank you for the reminder. They cannot be evil. It is just...”
“What?” Evelyn asked gently. She reached out her hand and took Alexandra's gloved hands.
“I cannot help that I believed it,” Alexandra said, biting her lip. “You know what it is like. When someone says something with complete conviction and repeats it enough times, you start to believe it is true. Lord Tallinn was so insistent about it that I believed him.” She shook her head. Lord Tallinn was Alexandra's godfather, and had considerable influence on her.
“There is nothing to forgive, Alle,” Evelyn said gently, squeezing the shorter woman's fingers through the silk-soft gloves. “You wanted to protect me.”
“Yes,” Alexandra said softly. “Thank you for knowing that was why I said it.”
“I value having such a caring companion,” Evelyn said, smiling. “Now, should we go and find a glass of wine? And perhaps something to eat? There is a delicious spicy smell from somewhere.”
Alexandra laughed. “Wine and refreshments! Always a good plan, my dear Evelyn.”
Arm in arm, the two women headed for the refreshment table. They chattered idly about comfortable topics for a while and then Lionel, Alexandra's betrothed, came to claim her company.
When she had gone, Evelyn sat a long while, thinking about what she had said. Barrett Brokeridge was evil? She shook her head, laughing at the thought. No person was! There was no such thing as evil. Doctor Pringle, a very learned man, had educated both Alexandra and Evelyn and his primary message seemed to be that fear always dissolved when the light of knowledge shone. This was a message that had become central to Evelyn's life. There is no such thing as evil, only ignorance.
But what is this about murder, and blood? Bronson said it too. There must be some truth in it.
As she watched Barrett, who was talking and laughing with his companions, she resolved that she would find out as much as she could about these whispers and tales surrounding his family. Who were they supposed to have killed, and why? Why did it make people say they were evil?
Evelyn watched Barrett, feeling a fondness for him deep in her heart. He tipped his head back, laughing at some joke, and the gesture was so easy, so natural, that it dispelled Evelyn's misgivings. He is a wonderful man: Funny, witty and educated. Handsome. Engaging. She would not allow baseless fears to chase her from him, but gather knowledge about him and dispel the fear.
Moreover, she would start tomorrow.
The best way to find out would be to talk to him, of course. For a long time.
Evelyn sipped her wine and laughed quietly to herself at that thought. Is it because I long for knowledge, or simply because I want to see him again?
She knew the answer to that question: She was already infatuated.
Do I really care about the mystery, or is it him I care about?
All she could answer to that was that it was a bit of both. If I want to marry this man, I need to know why people say such hateful things. She blinked, surprised. Evelyn Donnelly! Are you already planning to marry him?
She blushed. She could not hide from herself the fact that she had already fallen for him.
CHAPTER FOUR
LONDON FOR THE SEASON
LONDON FOR THE SEASON
Evelyn looked up from her book mildly, her train of thought interrupted by the end of her mother's sentence. Since the ball, Evelyn had felt slightly ill – preoccupation with the new mystery, she thought – and she had almost fallen asleep where she sat in the drawing-room with her family.
“...and go to London!” her mother finished.
“Sorry, Mother?” she asked, noticing that her mother was looking at her expectantly, waiting for an answer.
“Oh, Evelyn!” Her mother smiled. “You should rest – you look quite exhausted! I was just saying to you and your father that we should make ready for our trip to London.”
“Oh.” Evelyn bit her lip. London was where Lord Brokeridge spent most of his time. His father lived on the outskirts of the town, not too far from Lord Tallinn If she went to London, perhaps she would be able to find out more about them. Information was scant and mostly fanciful up here. “When did you plan to leave?”
“Well,” Ada continued, biting her lip as she thought, “Alicia will be here for Christmas, so we shall not leave before then. We had thought to leave toward the end of January, when the weather clears somewhat. Are you considering accompanying us? If you do, we shall stay for the Season!”
Ada looked hopeful, and Evelyn knew why: she was hoping Evelyn would attend parties in London and perhaps meet someone she would like to marry. She bit her lip. She already had found someone. “Yes,” she said firmly. “I was considering it.”
“Oh, good.” Ada beamed. “That is good news. Except for one thing of course,” she added, smiling wryly at Evelyn.
“And that is...” Evelyn began.
“...having new gowns made!” They finished together, laughing. Evelyn's mother knew of her dislike of all seamstresses, designs and fitting, and it had become a private joke between them. Evelyn gave her a tired grin.
“Yes, Mother. I shall endure Mrs. Chapman and her endless fittings if it promises to bring about a trip to London.”
Ada laughed. “Very well. Perhaps we could go down to the village today? As this is to be a special trip, I would like to order their best fabrics, and we might have to wait a month for delivery from Dublin.” She was clearly planning ahead already, her eyes unfocused as she made arrangements in her mind.
“Agreed,” Evelyn rolled her eyes at her mother, still smiling. “As long as you promise that you will give us a concert on the pianoforte when we return.”
Ada blushed. “Eva, my dear, you are too complimentary about my playing! I am truly dreadful.”
“Ada, my dear, you are accomplished in everything,” Liam, Evelyn's father, spoke up. His lean face lit up with a smile. It transformed his usual somber expression into one of stunning handsomeness.
“You tell her, Father!” Evelyn smiled. “I am sure you can convince her where I cannot.”
Ada was blushing, looking down at her hands. “Oh, you two!” she chided. She looked up, flushed and grinning. “Very well.”
“Hurray!” Evelyn said. She had stood, and bent to kiss her mother's fragrant red-gold hair.
“We need a concert,” Liam agreed. “It has been too long since Donnelly Park had some music. Though we shall change all that at Christmas.”
Evelyn nodded at her father, grinning, and the two shared a meaningful glance.
“Alicia will play for us, indeed. And Margaret and Medora both, if they come...”
“And Constance and Emilia, too, if they are staying!” Liam added, and he rolled his eyes.
Evelyn chuc
kled. “We shall have to learn to like things a bit noisier than usual,” she observed. He laughed.
“Agreed.”
Evelyn had inherited her love of the quiet life from her father, who for many years had entirely isolated himself from society. He had been a soldier, and his cheek was still marked with a deep scar from brow to mouth, carved by an encounter with a scimitar in Northern India. The story of how Ada and Liam had met and she had brought him out of his self-imposed silence was a beautiful one that still warmed Evelyn's soul. Looking from her graceful, lovely mother to her strong, quiet father, she smiled.
“Well, then,” her mother was saying firmly. “That is settled. Dresses this afternoon and a concert this evening. Now, Eva, you need four new gowns at least. What say you?”
“Four at most.”
Her mother grinned at her determined face. “If you insist.”
“Mother! You are dear to offer me so many! I barely need two,” Evelyn protested, laughing.
Her mother laughed. “We could all do with as many as possible. I need two myself – I love the blue one, but even Alicia insists she has seen it too often.”
Liam laughed. “My dear Ada, you are beautiful in blue as in any other color.”
Ada blushed and Evelyn felt her heart warm. She hoped she could one day find for herself something equivalent to her parents' special relationship. Though she did not want something identical, but a wild passion like sunset or the volcanic mountains of Mr. Pringle's lessons – a molten fire that consumed anything it touched. That was how she wanted to love.
“Are you ready to go?” Ada asked, turning to Evelyn.
“I shall go and finish a few things,” Evelyn said as she walked to the door, “and we can meet at two of the clock, perhaps, for our foray into town?”
Ada nodded. “Of course, dear. Two suits me well. I would like an hour to recover from our luncheon.”
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