He had a full head of wavy brown hair, and his bearing was almost regal. In a room filled with nobility, this man stood as if he was surrounded by peasants. It wasn’t that he did anything differently, it was the air of silent authority that wrapped around him.
His coat was dyed a rich purple, and his pants were coal black. It should have looked ostentatious, but on him, it looked elegant. He had a proud jaw, with strong curves that a stone mason would have envied. He was a delight to look at, and Augusta looked at him.
He stood between the young lady and her mother, and was glaring at Lord Colin with open hostility. From where Augusta was standing, she could feel the intensity of his stare.
It was amusing to watch. For all the intensity of the gentleman’s stare, Colin kept charming the young woman with practiced ignorance. Augusta laughed.
Evan turned to her and raised a brow. “What was that?”
“Nothing,” she said. “Excuse me, I can see my friend over there. I would be back shortly.” Evan nodded and she walked towards the group. She had to help the innocent lady before it was too late. Left to his devices, Colin could be rather charming.
As Augusta left, Nancy noticed that she was going in a different direction from her supposed friend. “Oh no!” she whispered, but Augusta only walked faster.
Evan heard Nancy’s exclamation and turned to her. He followed her eyes and frowned. “Augusta!” he whisper loudly. “Don’t you go meddling again!”
Augusta heard him, but strode forward with purpose. Evan would have to drag her out of the ballroom to prevent her from ruining whatever wicked plans Lord Colin had for this beautiful woman, who clearly knew nothing about him.
CHAPTER2
“Oh, this is all so exciting. Don’t you think so, brother?”
Benedict Harris shifted his focus away from the sprawling crowd of ton members flaunting their extravagant and colourful regalia as they paraded through the room.
“Quite so,” he responded, looking down at his little sister, bobbing with excitement. Eyes filled with hope and lips plastered with a wide smile, Benedict hoped his sister would not experience the ton in the way that he had.
Her face was the perfect depiction of youth and innocence. She stared up at him with a childlike innocence that one only possessed when they were yet new to the dangers hiding beneath all this beauty.
Letitia Harris, although nineteen years of age and old enough to be the wife of some lucky man, had been protected from birth and even more so when Benedict experienced the cruelty people were capable of when they were determined.
He sighed.Far be it from me to deprive her of the enjoyment of it all while it is yet so.
“You do not have to worry yourself so much. Your sister is rebellious although I wish she were not, and she will not stand for any wrong. Besides, she has us both to protect her,” his mother, Barbara Harris, the Dowager Duchess of Wenstall said from beside him.
“I understand but it does not make me worry less.” Benedict’s gaze returned to the large crowd of preening daughters and overzealous mamas looking for eligible bachelors with titles to ensnare.
He observed a woman he did not recognize scowl at her daughter, swiftly hiding her face behind a fan before gesturing towards an unsuspecting lord. With the determined steps that he recognized, she marched her daughter in the direction of the gentleman, the pleasing smile on her lips the opposite of the panicked expression on the gentleman’s when he noticed them a little too late.
Benedict was too far away to make out the conversation between the trio but as it usually always ended when young men faced determined mamas, he soon led the beaming young lady to the dance floor.
The marriage market in all its glory.
"Look, Mama, there's Lady Hilda," Letitia exclaimed, indicating a beautiful redhead with fair skin and an air of grace and elegance surpassed by few.
"Quit pointing. It's terribly unladylike," Barbara admonished, lightly smacking her daughter's hand.
Letitia’s frown was quickly replaced by excitement as she leaned in to speak in a hushed tone.
"Given the amount of attention she's receiving, she must be the belle of the ball," Letitia speculated.
Benedict observed Lady Hilda. She was undeniably a striking woman. Men surrounded her, competing for her attention with no concern for making fools of themselves. She giggled at the words of one of the men, the sound light and delightful, drawing the attention of all who heard.
He averted his gaze, feeling uninterested. Numerous others were vying for her favor, and he saw no reason to join their ranks. Even if she were alone, his choice wouldn't have swayed. His presence at the ball was solely for his sister, and the last thing he wanted was to invite another betrayal.
The music, the smell of wilting flowers, food and perfumes filled the air, overwhelming his senses. It was only the beginning of the night and Benedict already felt too drained to be here.
Even more draining was, once again, having to be amongst the ton, an arduous task and one he liked even less, knowing the thoughts that ran in their heads. His jaw ticked as he felt eyes on him. They’d been fixed on him from the moment he walked in and still were.
He willed them to look away, knowing that was an almost impossible thing to wish. The members of the ton were wont to latch onto the latest gossip and hold onto it until there was another bit of interesting news. Unfortunately for him, although time had passed since the incident, there had been no bit of interesting news yet.
