Evangeline wasn’t initially worried when they couldn’t find Joan.
Her niece had proven herself trustworthy and well-behaved, after the ballooning incident. Evangeline thought she’d put Burke on clear notice that he was being weighed in the balance, and that he did not want to be found lacking. But any suitor would crave a private moment to express his feelings, and she was inclined to grant Burke that much, for Joan’s sake.
If she could help Joan find as much happiness as she felt herself right now, Evangeline would happily face down George and Marion.
Evie, I want to marry you.She had never thought to hear those words and feel anything other than panic and alarm. But when Richard said them... her heart had leapt.I want everyone to know that I am yours.She had seen the glances their way, as she walked with him and danced with him. Some were surprised, but most were merely curious; fire and brimstone had not rained down upon her head, as she’d somehow feared.
This could be my life, she thought, stealing a glance at him beside her. No more fixing her gaze straight ahead and pretending she didn’t see the wide eyes or hear the flurry ofwhispers. No more pretense of leaving separately, even when he intended to walk through the woods from his house to hers for the night. No more pretense at all, because marriage would make them uninteresting... and respectable. It was an unfamiliar concept, but one she found surprisingly appealing.
However, as they searched all three supper rooms and did not spy either Joan or Lord Burke, thoughts of Richard faded under the wave of concern rising inside her. A private moment was forgivable, if not fully permissible, but now it had been almost half an hour since she’d seen her niece.
When Richard opened the terrace doors and turned back to her, his face grave, a flare of panic shot through her. Where could Joan be?
“I’ll ask her friends,” she said as Richard came back into the house. “We saw them eating.”
“Of course.”
They went back through the supper rooms. She made her way toward the Misses Weston, and tried to catch the elder girl’s eye. Abigail Weston jumped up and hurried over, leaving her sister to entertain the two young men at their table.
“I do apologize for interrupting,” Evangeline told her with a smile, “but have you seen Joan?”
Miss Weston blinked. “No, Lady Courtenay. Not since before the waltz.”
“Ah.” Evangeline kept her smile firmly in place even though her stomach lurched at this news. “She must have gone to the retiring room. She tried a new hairstyle this evening and was worried it would need repair.” The hairstyle was new, but it was simpler than the usual curls and braids; it should have been fine all evening.
Miss Weston looked skeptical but didn’t argue. Evangeline bade her farewell and returned to Richard’s side. He’d gone backto his sister and Mr. Rieger, and as she approached, Sir Paul and Lady Brentwood strolled up.
“You must come sit with us, Campion,” Sir Paul cajoled. “We’ve seats saved at our own table.”
“Indeed, we have,” added Catherine, turning a brittle smile on Evangeline. “Lady Courtenay, do join us.”
Evangeline smiled back, teeth gritted behind her lips. “That is very kind of you, my dear, but I’m afraid we are already engaged.”
“Perhaps we might join you in an hour,” added Richard. He laid his hand over hers, on his arm. “For dessert.”
Lady Brentwood softened under his regard. “We will look forward to it, sir.”
“Very good,” said Sir Paul in approval.
“Until then,” Richard replied, and promptly led her away. “I presume her friend was no help?” he murmured as they reached the doorway.
“None.” Once clear of the supper rooms, Evangeline turned to face him. “Richard?—”
“I know,” he said at once. “We must find her.”
“Or Burke,” she said, leaving unspoken her worst fear: that the pair of them had slipped off alone together, to do God-knew-what. Evangeline wanted no part of explainingthatto her brother. “I’ll check the retiring room.”
He nodded. “I will ask the footman in the reception hall if Burke has left.”
She picked up her skirts and hurried away, down the corridor and up the stairs to the room set aside for ladies. Several people were within, one getting a button sewn back on her glove and one lying on a chaise looking a bit green. In the middle of the room stood a young lady, sobbing hysterically, as her mother and another girl tried to soothe her; two maids fussed over the torn flounce of her gown, trailing across the floor. No Joan.Evangeline bit her lip and pretended to powder her nose, as the glove-less matron eyed her closely. She walked out as calmly as possible, and began opening doors along the corridor.
A small parlor: empty.
A larger music room: empty.
Another parlor, more feminine: also empty.
Evangeline tried to tell herself to remain calm. There was likely a very reasonable explanation, she repeated over and over in her mind. The Brentwood house was rather large, and if Burke meant to propose or declare himself, he might well have whisked Joan away to a quiet area just as Richard had done. Any moment now she would turn a corner and spot them, Burke on one knee and Joan beaming with happiness.
