by Adele Clee
Mrs. Shaw would need to accompany him. It would only be for a day or two. Just until he had seen Miss Bromwell. No doubt, he’d stumble upon her and her beau strolling arm in arm through the ballroom. She would regale tales of their upcoming nuptials, her pretty blue eyes sparkling with delight. Anger would bubble away inside, forcing him to be rude.
After all, who would desire a monster when they could have a most affable, kind and handsome gentleman like Mr. Sutherby?
Chapter 9
“It feels so good to be out and about amongst company,” Aunt Beatrice said as she adjusted her turban until the feather dangled down over the scar at her temple. “If I had spent another day stuck in bed, I think I would have started talking to the walls.”
Evelyn surveyed the hordes of people crowded into Lord Melbury’s ballroom. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather be somewhere quieter? I can make our excuses to Mr. Sutherby. Under the circumstances, I know he would understand. We could —”
“Heavens no,” her aunt exclaimed. “You’ve wasted far too much time tending to me. You need to be out in Society, and then everyone will know of your attachment to Mr. Sutherby.”
Evelyn tried to protest but struggled to get a word out. After feeling helpless and being cooped up like a chick in a nest, her aunt was chirping more than usual.
“Besides,” Aunt Beatrice continued, “I much prefer the noise and bustle of Town. At least, there’s no danger of being attacked by falling branches. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to ride through the forest again.”
For Evelyn, the opposite was true.
In Town, one could not swim naked in the moonlight or be rescued by a dark, brooding gentleman who found pleasure in being rude to everyone he met.
Aunt Beatrice put her fingers to her temple and winced. “Has Mr. Sutherby mentioned the reason behind such an impromptu departure?”
Evelyn shook her head. “Only to reiterate what he told us at Mytton Grange. He had an urgent matter of business to attend to and had no option but to return.”
“The man barely gave me time to finish my eggs. I didn’t even get a chance to crush the shell and you what that means — a whole a year of bad luck. In his impatience, I thought he might tear the spoon from my fingers and rap my knuckles.” She sighed. “And you know it’s not wise to travel on a full stomach. It causes all sorts of problems with my digestion.”
No one could have been more shocked at the sudden change of plan than Evelyn.
It was not the distress of having to pack their meagre belongings in a hurry or the sense of wild panic filling the house, that affected her. Lying awake during the early hours, her mind had been occupied with thoughts of Alexander Cole. Would he walk over to Mytton Grange again? Or would she be left alone in the dark, plagued by disappointment?
Well, she would never know.
The thought caused her throat to constrict.
“Although he has been most attentive to your needs,” her aunt continued.
“Who?” Evelyn said. Her aunt couldn’t possibly know that the Earl of Hale had rescued her from the icy depths of the river.
“Mr. Sutherby! Honestly, Evelyn, anyone would think you were the one who had injured their head. I said he’s been very attentive since our return. I suppose I can forgive him for causing my stomach cramps as he will soon be family.”
Evelyn shook her head and glanced over her shoulder. “Shush,” she whispered. “He has not offered for me and even if he does I’m not sure I’ll accept.”
“What? Of course, you’ll accept. There’s not a man in all of London more suited to you.”
Mr. Sutherby had spent the last two days trying to arrange a private meeting and Evelyn had used her aunt’s ill health as an excuse. But time had run out. With her aunt’s appearance at Lord Melbury’s ball, she’d have no choice but to listen to what the gentleman had to say. The thought caused a nervous flutter in her chest that shot up to her throat when she spotted Mr. Sutherby approaching.
“My dear, Miss Bromwell, you’re looking resplendent this evening,” Mr. Sutherby said after bowing gracefully to her aunt. He smiled wide enough to display a full set of white teeth. “Say you’ll dance with me. It’s been an age since I last twirled you about the floor.”
With a sudden urge to give the man an opportunity to ask his question in order to enlighten him of her feelings, she said, “Of course, Mr. Sutherby. I will mark you down for the —” She should have said the waltz, a dance more suited to intimate conversation. “For the cotillion.”
Mr. Sutherby inclined his head. “And perhaps you would like to join me in the park tomorrow? Or perhaps a trip to a museum? Charlotte will be happy to accompany us.”
Evelyn fell silent for a moment.
“Oh, she would love nothing more, Mr. Sutherby,” Aunt Beatrice interjected. “Wouldn’t you, Evelyn?”
Before Evelyn could answer, they heard a commotion on the far side of the ballroom. A sea of heads shot to the door leading out into the hallway, but with the dance floor being overcrowded, she struggled to see what was happening. She could hear gasps and whispers rippling through the room.
“No doubt, someone has fainted from the suffocating heat,” Mr. Sutherby said. “Melbury really should limit the number of people he invites to his gatherings.”
Aunt Beatrice nodded. “It’s only a matter of time before someone …”
Evelyn ignored them, their words lost amidst the strange sensations gripping her. The hairs on her nape tingled. The air around her buzzed, the vibration causing her breath to come so quick she struggled to swallow.
Eve.
The name drifted through her mind. No one called her Eve, yet she knew it was meant for her. She glanced at Mr. Sutherby and her aunt, who were still discussing the dangers of being trampled in a crush.
Eve.
Despite not knowing who called out to her or where the sound came from, she felt an overwhelming need to respond, albeit silently.
I’m here.
The instant tug hit her deep in her core, drawing her forward, her body moving first while her feet followed. One step became two, and then three as she pushed through the crowd determined to reach the unknown destination.
Around her conversations resumed. The guests regrouped, and the noise of laughter filled the room once again.
Evelyn saw him waiting near the door, ignoring the gapes and stares.
Alexander Cole.
Her hand flew to her heart, the only way she could stop it from beating right out of her chest.
His dark hair hung in a sinister wave over his brow, his gaze cold and unforgiving as he scanned the crowd. Wearing full evening dress: a pure white shirt and neckcloth teamed with a black long-tailed coat and breeches, he looked devilishly handsome and downright dangerous. He had the look of a man capable of ripping out another man’s heart with his bare hands.
When he saw her, his face remained expressionless. Yet his eyes radiated warmth, the temperature intensifying until the rays penetrated her dress, her skin, every muscle in her body growing limp.
He stepped forward and she waited for him to reach her, frightened her legs would buckle. “Miss Bromwell,” he said offering a respectful bow. “You’re here.”
“Lord Hale.” Evelyn curtsied, yet in her mind she imagined throwing her arms around his neck. How bizarre. “Either I am dreaming, or you have left Stony Cross.”
“I thought a trip might improve my mood.”
Evelyn smiled. “And has it?”
“No. Not until now.”
For some reason, she felt her cheeks flame, and she pressed the pads of her fingers to her face expecting to hear them sizzle. “Are you so intent on stalking the Sutherbys that you’ve followed them all the way to London?” she asked in a bid to disguise the effect his presence was having on her.
The corners of his mouth curved just a fraction. “I am not stalking the Sutherbys. I am here to see you.”
Evelyn swallowed as she found his directness oddly
stimulating. “And what do you want with me, my lord?”
She was desperate to know the answer, desperate to know what had dragged him from his desolate prison.
“I came to Mytton Grange. It was obvious you’d left in a hurry.” He paused briefly. “I wanted to know if you and your aunt were well.”
She glanced at the crowd, meeting the shocked expression on numerous faces. Alexander Cole hated company. He had chained the gates to his estate to keep people out. Yet here he was in a packed ballroom, dressed in his finery, and all because he wanted to see if she was well.
“Why?” The word fell from her lips as she struggled to make sense of it all.
He lowered his head, and she was hit with his musky, masculine scent. “I do not trust Mr. Sutherby.”
She reeled from the answer, a rush of disappointment flooding her chest. What had she expected him to say? He was not the sort of man to make false protestations. She was not normally the sort who longed for a gentleman to drop to his knees and declare his affections.
“Then I was correct in my assessment,” she said a little coldly. “You are here to stalk the Sutherbys.”
He stared at her. His piercing blue eyes searched her face before his gaze drifted beyond her shoulder, and his mouth formed a scowl. “It appears your gentleman has come to claim you.”
Evelyn turned to see Mr. Sutherby approach, and she bit back an unladylike curse. “I had come to pay my respects to the Earl of Hale,” he said, “but I see he is otherwise engaged.”
Evelyn swung back around to see a pair of broad shoulders moving away through the crowd. Damn the man. She would have to speak to him about his annoying habit of walking off before finishing a conversation.
Lifting his chin and tilting his head, Mr. Sutherby continued, “I believe that screech is the call for the cotillion.”
Dancing was the last thing on her mind but what choice did she have? Besides, it would give her a moment to collect her thoughts.
When Mr. Sutherby took her hand, she felt nothing. She could have been holding a dead fish, as even wearing gloves it felt cold and limp. The swapping of partners brought a momentary reprieve. Thank the Lord she’d not agreed to a waltz.
“So what takes your fancy?” Mr. Sutherby asked as they came to meet in the middle of their group.
“My fancy?”
“Tomorrow. Would you rather a stroll in the park or perhaps you desire mental stimulation and would prefer a museum?”
“I … I.”
Mr. Sutherby offered a smile so wide it looked as though someone had sewn the apples of his cheeks to his earlobes and the thread had proved to be far too tight.
“I know. It is a difficult choice. We could always do both.”
They rejoined the circle, and Mr. Sutherby pranced away next to her, the shiny buckles on his shoes almost touching his knees.
“I think a stroll in the park,” she said, as there would be plenty of people wandering about. Tomorrow, she hoped her mind would be a little clearer. Mr. Sutherby deserved the truth and Evelyn knew she would spend a sleepless night contemplating the dilemma.
“Splendid. I shall call for you at two.” He offered his arm as the dance ended. “Come, I’ll escort you back to your aunt. Then I shall go and hunt down Charlotte as I’m sure she’s off causing mischief somewhere.”
Aunt Beatrice was engaged in an animated conversation with Mr. Hartwood whose compassionate nature gave her aunt the opportunity to regale a long-winded account of her dreadful accident.
Evelyn’s attention wandered, and she surveyed the crowd looking for Alexander Cole. It took a moment for her to locate him. Now that stories of his disfigurement had proved to be untrue, she expected to find him surround by eager guests desperate to know the truth behind the tale.
But he was alone.
Propped up against the wall near the terrace with his arms folded across his chest, he radiated hostility. But like the night she’d seen him sitting on the bench, her heart went out to him. Why she should care about the man, was a mystery to her. All she knew was that she wanted to talk to him, to try her damnedest to make him smile.
Perhaps if he told her his reasons for disliking Mr. Sutherby it might make it easier to reach a decision. Perhaps if she spent more time in his company it might help her to understand why his voice caused her body to glow, why his touch ignited a fire so deep inside.
With that thought in mind, she moved towards him.
Chapter 10
Alexander could not bear to spend another minute in the packed ballroom. The rank smell of sweat mingled with a trace of vinegar and perfume from those who still wore powder, invaded his nostrils. The stench was so potent he only drew shallow breaths.
Besides, he could not watch that fop Sutherby skipping and hopping about the floor again like a hare come breeding season. The fool disappeared through the crowd with Miss Bromwell on his arm, and Alexander clenched his jaw so hard he was in danger of cracking his teeth.
When Alexander entered Melbury’s ballroom, he had known what to expect.
People stared at his face, shocked to find no visible sign of the monster hidden within. People whispered and tittered, inventing tales to account for his absence, more tales to account for his attendance. Some dared to approach, eager for the coveted place of being the first to hear his explanation. But one cold, hard stare sent them scurrying back to the hole they’d crawled out of. After an hour, they’d grown tired of watching him, some other on dit taking their fancy.
Although not everyone had lost interest in him.
He’d noticed the two gentlemen lingering in the alcove. They followed him around the room, hovering in any place that gave them an optimum view. He knew of them. Viscount Markham was the older of the two, perhaps thirty. The Marquess of Hartford, known simply as Devlin, was renowned for his skill with a sword. They met his gaze with an air of arrogance and Alexander’s palms itched at the thought of thrusting them both up against the door and wringing their necks.
Needing to find a distraction, he pushed away from the wall and exited through the double doors leading out onto the terrace. The cool night air felt fresh against his face, and he inhaled.
The sound of light footsteps padding across the floor behind him caused him to turn.
“Alexander,” Lady Montford breathed softly. “I cannot tell you how pleased I am to see you. I thought you would never return. And then there was that dastardly story about your accident. I’ve spent two years mourning your handsome face.”
His gaze drifted up to the mass of copper curls, down the line of her elegant throat to the exposed curve of her bosom. It was a body he knew well, a body he’d taken many times before.
A body he had no desire to see again.
“How’s your husband?” he said not bothering to hide his contempt. The man spent more time with his horses than he did his wife. Not that she complained.
“Monty? Oh, always away, always busy. You know how it is.”
“And your lovers?”
“Satisfying,” she replied trailing her fingers along her collarbone.
“I know you wouldn’t accept anything less.”
She stepped closer, removed her glove and placed her palm on his chest. “I will happily push them all out of bed for you, Alexander. It’s been so long I’ve forgotten how good you feel.” Her gaze dropped to the fall of his breeches. “Although I’ve not forgotten how skillful you are.”
Alexander glanced down at her bare hand. He felt nothing. There was no urgency to claim, no desire to thrust home, no eagerness to give pleasure. His chest felt empty, his cock flaccid.
He stepped away, letting her hand fall. “I’m not the same man you remember.” Lady Montford would run for the hills if she knew what he was and it took all his effort not to frighten the conceited grin from her face.
“All the more reason to rekindle what we had. The first time with a new lover is always so exciting. But then we’ll have the added bonus of knowing how to please.�
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Alexander sneered. “I’ve given up rutting every female I come across. There’s something rather tasteless about it.”
“Nonsense. Just hearing you say rutting has me all aroused. I think you’re deliberately teasing me.”
Before another word was uttered, Evelyn Bromwell strode out onto the terrace and came to an abrupt halt. Her smile faded as her cheeks flushed crimson and she averted her gaze.
“Forgive me. I … I did not mean to disturb you.”
She turned and marched back into the ballroom.
“Miss Bromwell, wait.”
Lady Montford caught his arm as he set off in pursuit. “Why didn’t you say you have a newfound penchant for virgins? I may have tried a different approach.”
“Nothing you could say or do would tempt me to accept.”
With no time to waste, he ignored the lady at his side and yanked his arm free. Amidst the crush, he managed to catch up with Miss Bromwell near the dance floor.
“Miss Bromwell.” When she failed to turn around, he grabbed her arm and pulled her back into his chest. “God damn, woman,” he whispered through gritted teeth. “Will you wait.”
Upon hearing his curse she swung around, and he released his grip. “It is rude to leave a lady alone on a terrace,” she sniped. “I suggest you go back and tend to her needs before someone else does. Besides, I was looking for Mr. Sutherby.”
“No. You were looking for me.”
Just being in her presence was like drinking a magical elixir. Every part of him thrummed with excitement. Every part of him throbbed, desperate to be near her, to touch her, to lie her down and cover her with his naked body.
“I was not looking for you,” she reiterated.
She turned away from him again and pushed through a group of people. When he followed, he realised they were standing amidst the group of dancers, a hundred pairs of eyes focusing on their next move.
Damn it.
Alexander pulled her into his arms, his hand settling on her waist in the hope of joining the other couples dancing the waltz.
