On the way, he fixed his gaze on his father’s portrait hanging alongside paintings of other Hawkridge ancestors and previous dukes along the walls of the great hall.
Gray could admit that his plan was as yet half-formed and fueled by the sort of irrepressible eagerness Jameson had displayed. But, for the first time in his life, it felt like the correct course. Not the one that had been laid out for him but the right one, nevertheless.
Evangeline had always been there, he realized. And nothing made more sense than acting on what his gut, his heart, was telling him.
Now, he only prayed she felt the same.
In the ballroom, the small quartet the aunts had hired were warming up their instruments, and the guests milled about, taking refreshments and conversing.
Beyond the gaggles, Evangeline stood alone at the far edge of the room. Just as she did at Lady Worthington’s balls throughout the Season.
He was halfway to her when his aunt stopped him in his tracks.
“We’ll reverse the order this evening. So you’ll dance with Lady Mary first.”
The usual protocol had been for Gray to dance with each of the noblewomen who’d been invited to the house party, at least until he decided to focus his attentions on one of them, and the aunts had decided the fairest way was to go in alphabetical order.
“Aunt, I intend to the first dance this evening to be with Miss Granger.”
Her blue eyes, so much like his father’s, widened at the same moment that her forehead crimped in confusion. “Evangeline does not care to dance, as I believe you well know. She is a wallflower and seems quite content as such.”
“I do.” Mercy, did he. And yet he still asked. Every single time they were in a ballroom together. At least until the house party at Carthwaite. And that was why he intended to ask her tonight. First, before any other lady.
Even if she refused to dance with him, he wished her to know that she was the only one he truly wanted in his arms.
“Ask her if you must, but she’ll refuse, and then you can start on the ladies who’ve been invited here for thesole purposeof spending time with you.” His aunt gave special emphasis to her final words as if he’d somehow forgotten why the ancestral home he rarely visited was buzzing with activity. Not to mention the knowledge that his father was lying upstairs, waiting for word of a betrothal.
“If you’ll excuse me, Aunt.” Gray beelined straight for Evie.
She wore a peacock-blue dress that accentuated her curves and highlighted the fiery glint of her red hair. How could anyone ever think of her as a wallflower?
When she noticed his approach, her reaction wasn’t what he’d hoped.
She darted her gaze away, then her gaze widened when she realized he was headed directly for her.
“What are you doing?” she whispered when he drew near.
“Dance with me.”
Evie glanced behind him. “You have a line of young ladies waiting to dance with you.”
“But I want to dance with you.”
“You know I don’t care to dance.”
Gray took a step closer. She didn’t retreat, only tipped her head to meet his gaze.
“Not even with me?”
Her eyes fluttered closed for a moment. “You shouldn’t do this.”
“Oh, but I think I should. I must. You know there is no other option that either of us can endure?”
“What do you mean?” Those green eyes of hers were squared on him now.
Gray looked around, desperate for a place where they could speak privately and freely.
But the music started, and the only question he could truly ask was the one he’d spoken a moment ago.
