Gemma’s red dress made her look bright and alive, her eyes sparkling with joy.
“Thank you!” Gemma exclaimed, evidently pleased.
Evelyn smiled back, comforted by her kindness. The uneasy knot in her stomach loosened slightly as they reached the foyer.
Sebastian stood waiting.
He lifted his head as she entered, and his gaze—startled, unguarded, admiring—struck straight through her. Her heart lurched, heat blooming across her cheeks. She dropped her gaze to her slippers; when she looked up again, he had turned away.The warm glow from the lamps framed his profile, and she drew in a breath. She had never seen a man so handsome.
His slim nose and firmly set mouth should have lent him severity, but his blue eyes—capable of such startling fire—gave his face a compelling intensity. His high cheekbones caught the light. He wore a dark blue coat and grey knee-breeches, the fitted cloth drawing attention to the strength of his legs and thighs. Evelyn swallowed hard, cheeks flaring with delicious shyness at her own bold thoughts.
“Good evening,” Sebastian murmured as she approached. He bowed. His voice was low and smooth, tightening something deep in her throat. She curtseyed.
“Good evening.”
They stared at one another for a long moment. Her heart raced. There was longing in his eyes—she was certain of it—and yet he could be so distant at other times. It bewildered her.
Gemma and William’s lively conversation drifted around them, pulling Evelyn faintly back to the present.
“When shall we depart?” she asked quietly. His cologne—warm and spiced—clouded her thoughts.
“My brother must still prepare,” he replied. “And Mama, of course.”
“Oh. Yes,” Evelyn murmured. She had half-hoped the Dowager Duchess might elect to stay home. The thought of facing her again tonight made Evelyn’s pulse flutter wildly.
“Brother!” Nicholas called from the stairwell. “I apologise for my lateness. I hope I have not delayed you unduly?” He grinned at Evelyn, offering her a low bow.
“No, not unduly,” Sebastian said coolly, then grinned. Evelyn stopped breathing, seeing that breathtaking smile. He was usually broodingly handsome, but the boyish grin was delightful. She wished he would do it again.
“Perdition,” Nicholas murmured. “It’s hot down here.” He adjusted his cravat and breathed deeply. “I shall be pleased to be outdoors.”
Sebastian did not answer, and Evelyn wondered if he was vexed. But then the Dowager Duchess appeared on the staircase.
She descended with regal grace, her sage-green gown immaculate, her grey hair arranged perfectly. Her gaze drifted over Evelyn without stopping—without even acknowledging her. Colour burned in Evelyn’s cheeks.
“Well. We are all assembled early,” the Dowager Duchess observed as she reached the group.
Sebastian bent his arm towards Evelyn. “May I?” he murmured.
“Thank you,” Evelyn whispered, placing her gloved hand on his arm. His nearness unsteadied her; the warmth of his body, the scent of him, the solid strength beneath the cloth.
They reached the coach, and Sebastian helped her in. His gaze locked with hers for a moment as he helped her into the big Landau, and for a moment, he seemed to stare ravenously at her. She sat down opposite him in the coach; certain that she was misinterpreting what she saw. It was surely not possible that he would feel as much longing for her as she did for him—after all, she was inadequate, a nobody like his mother seemed to imply. She was silent as the coach rattled down the drive. Gemma and William were keeping up a conversation, chatting in an amused, lighthearted way.
“Let us hope the musicians are better here than at Almack’s,” Gemma laughed. “I would swear the violin was out of tune the whole evening.”
“I should not be surprised,” William said fondly.
Evelyn leaned back, listening distantly. She wished she could be so comfortable, so confident. Words deserted herwhenever Sebastian sat near, and she was sure that he must think her uninteresting.
But then, that night in the bedroom...she reminded herself. He had certainly seemed to find her interesting then.
Nothing made sense. If their marriage was only a matter of mutual convenience, why did his gaze keep flicking toward her across the coach, those blue eyes kindling with unmistakable longing? If she was such a dreadful duchess—as his mother so plainly believed—why did Sebastian look at her as though he could not help himself? She could not decide what was real and what she had imagined, and by the time the coach rattled up the long approach to the manor, she felt dangerously close to losing her composure.
“Allow me,” Sebastian murmured as he descended from the coach. He helped her down first, his grip warm around her gloved hand, then turned to assist his mother. Evelyn did not dare to look, but she felt the Dowager Duchess’s indignation like a blast of heat at her back. When she finally turned her head, the older woman was inwardly seething, lips pinched tight. Sebastian ignored it entirely, and Evelyn forced herself to do the same, though she remained painfully aware of that simmering displeasure as she walked beside him up the steps.
Pine torches flickered beside the doors, throwing shifting light up the stone façade. The manor rose three storeys above them; she craned her neck to follow the sweep of the gable until it disappeared into the night. By the time she lowered her gaze again, they were already stepping into the wide, lantern-lit hallway where Lord and Lady Elridge waited to greet their guests.
“Good evening, Lord Elridge. Lady Elridge,” she murmured, dropping a curtsey she wished desperately she had been trained to do properly. The Dowager Duchess’s curtseys always looked effortless, elegant—nothing like Evelyn’s awkward attempt.
