Page 2

T he following evening, Miss Evangeline Spencer, not by a flicker of an eyelash allowed anyone to see the pain she suffered.

If she could get her finger into her ear without someone noting, she would.

The screech from the violin was giving her a headache, as was the supposed highly regarded soprano singing on the stage.

“Isn’t she amazing?”

Glancing to her right, Evie looked at her sister and the delighted expression on her face.

“You are not serious?”

“Deadly. Miss Dornetto has a wonderful voice.”

“It’s hideous, and every dog nearby is howling.”

“Oh shush,” Prudence whispered.

Shorter than Evie, Prue was the softer, sweeter Spencer sister.

She always had a genuine smile on her face, unlike the cynical one Evie wore.

Her hair wasn’t simply brown, but more cinnamon and shot through with gold streaks.

Pale skin and lovely blue eyes. She wore a simple cream dress with a blue sash under the bodice, which suited her elegant figure.

In short, Prudence was the epitome of what every debutante should aspire to be… unlike her older sister.

“At least father is not here tonight, so we do not have to listen to him humming or clapping,” Prue said.

“A small mercy, but one nevertheless,” Evie agreed.

She felt an arm brush hers on the left side, and turned to look at who was lucky enough to have arrived halfway through the performance and was now taking the empty seat.

Her eyes met Lord Hamilton’s, and the breath lodged in her throat as she saw the dark bruise on his jaw.

It made him appear more savage than normal, which was saying something.

What was he doing here? She doubted a man with his reputation would willingly come to such an evening.

His head did a tiny dip to acknowledge her, and his lip curled as if to let her know he was about as happy to see her as she was him. She did the same and then they both looked to the stage, united in their mutual loathing of each other.

Of course, he would arrive late. Beastly man, he could do whatever he wanted.

Hostesses either gushed all over him or quaked in fear.

His reputation was blacker than coal, and he had the manners of a barnyard animal.

Arrogant, rude, he cared little for society and its rules.

Evie despised him even more than jellied eels, which was saying something.

She attempted to move to the right, so their bodies did not touch.

Even through layers of clothing, she felt like his skin was in direct contact with hers.

The man was far too large to be considered elegant.

She could see the width of the knee closest. Encased in white breeches, it was at least twice the size of hers. His boots must be huge.

“Dear God,” he muttered as the soprano hit a high note, badly.

“Perhaps if you are not enjoying the performance, you could leave, my lord?” She spoke the words in a sickly-sweet tone out of her smiling mouth, so that anyone looking would think she was being polite.

“I don’t believe I asked your opinion, Miss Spencer.”

His insulting drawl made Evie want to slap him. Instead, she focused on the performance, which was not easy as it was terrible.

Unlike the man next to her, she had to be polite.

Evie’s family did not have the status and wealth to offend.

In fact, their future depended on the success of this season.

Appearances were everything and while the Spencers seemed a family that could walk with ease in society, they most definitely were not.

Their time in London was short, and Evie did not want to contemplate what would happen after.

“Next time you drag me to another spectacle like this, I will refuse, no matter if I win or lose,” Lord Hamilton said.

Evie turned her head slightly, and out of the corner of her eye noted the crossed legs beside him. No doubt they belonged to one of the two men he seemed to keep company with, Lords Corbyn and Jamieson. Although why anyone would want this man as a friend she had no idea.

She heard the men murmuring and then a loud shushing from in front of them.

“Apologies, Lady Linley,” Lord Hamilton said, much to Evie’s surprise. She didn’t think the man knew how to apologize.

“Don’t come if you don’t want to listen.” Lady Linley added, now glaring at him, her many chins quivering with indignation. “What happened to your face, Hamilton?”

Evie braced herself, as surely he’d eviscerate the woman for daring to question him.

“I walked into a door,” he said, which she thought was a lie.

Lady Linley huffed out a disapproving breath. “Your aunts will tell me the truth.”

“Undoubtedly,” he replied.

The woman wore a garish mix of colors and things in her hair that defied gravity. She also said exactly what she wanted. Evie aspired to be just like her one day.

“Is that a bearded tit in your hair, Lady Linley?” Lord Hamilton asked minutes later, drawing the woman’s eyes back to his.

“No,” she snapped.

“A coal tit?”

Evie swallowed her giggle. She absolutely would not let that man see her smile over something he’d said. He was a dissolute rake whom she loathed.

The first time she’d stepped into society, Miss Everland told Evie and her sister to keep their distance from Lord Hamilton, as he was a destroyer of reputations who drank and whored his way through London. Of course, Miss Everland had not mentioned the whoring, but it was implied.

“A blue tit,” Lady Linley said. “Now do be quiet, Hamilton.”

Again, to her surprise, he did as he was told.

Long minutes ticked by, with Miss Dornetto showing no sign of drawing breath on stage or the performance coming to an end. Evie was clenching her muscles to ensure she did not touch the dark lord at her side. Hopefully her agony was over soon.

“Not only are you clumsy, but you constantly move.”

“Pardon?” She faced Lord Hamilton, and their eyes clashed like swords on a battlefield.

“Your leg, it’s twitching,” he snapped.

“Better?” Moving so their legs were no longer close, she faced forward once more.

He didn’t answer. Horrid man. It was vastly unfair that he looked as he did and had wealth and status but the personality of a feral jungle cat, while she had to find inventive ways to ensure financial security for her family.

Not to mention remain socially acceptable. One slip and they were doomed.

“Now your fingers are tapping.”

She spun back to face him. Why any man should have such lovely eyes was beyond her.

They were a dark shade of amber and surrounded by dark brows and lashes.

She’d heard Miss Brittle say that Lord Hamilton’s eyes made her swoon, and it was a shame he was such a savage, as he’d make a wonderful husband.

Evie thought they were hideous, simply because they belonged to him.

“Go away if my presence annoys you,” she snapped, stopping short of insulting him further. He was after all rich, titled, and powerful for all he was a hideous person. She could not afford to insult him in a public setting.

“Unfortunately, I lost a bet,” he muttered, “or I would gladly oblige, as the performance is terrible.”

She wasn’t sure he could be termed handsome, but she’d heard other women describe his face enthusiastically.

It comprised of sharp angles and planes, with a long nose that had a slight kink to it.

His hair was black, and a little long, which she thought added to his air of insolence and entitlement.

He stood half a head above her, which she loathed.

“Don’t be rude,” Evie snapped. “Some people are enjoying it.”

“I’m not sure how. However, if I must endure the performance,” he added, “I’d at least like to do so without you constantly moving.”

Prue always said Evie’s biggest failing was her inability to shut her mouth at the right moments. She loathed bullies and fools, and especially hated when people took her to task, even if she deserved it, which in this instance she most definitely did not.

She counted slowly to five, as ten was beyond her, and told herself no good would come of her taking one of society’s most notorious members to task, even if he deserved it. It didn’t work. She faced him once more.

“I can stop my movements, my lord, whereas you can do very little to change your personality, which I assure you is that of an ill-mannered feral dog.”

“Pardon?” His dark brows now met in the middle in a fierce frown.

“Evie.” Prue hissed the word into her ear.

“Nothing,” she muttered.

“Oh, that was definitely something,” he said. “Don’t back away now, Miss Spencer. Tell me exactly what you think of me. After all, it’s likely nothing I haven’t already heard.”

“Then one wonders why you don’t try harder to be nice,” Evie snapped.

“I have no wish to be nice,” he drawled. “I much prefer being bad.” The smile accompanying those words could only be termed wicked, and she itched to slap it from his face.

She bared her teeth at him.

“Wonderful,” Prue said rising. “The performance is finished, and the dancing shall begin. Come, sister, let us take some refreshments first.”

Prue tugged her arm, and she was soon following the other guests out of their row and leaving that hideous man behind.

“We are walking a thin line in society, Evie, as you are aware. Do you think it wise to start an argument with Lord Hamilton, who with a single word could destroy both our reputations?”

“He is vile and obnoxious.” Evie looked at her sister, who was rarely angry, but clearly was now.

“He is terrifying, and his reputation is blacker than midnight. Therefore, stay away from him, as he would not hesitate to ruin you, and ultimately us,” Prue said. “Besides, it’s not like you even know the man.”

Not quite true. In fact, they’d already shared several terse words when they’d collided on her first night in society. Ever since then, until tonight, she’d kept away from him… well, at least as Miss Spencer she had.

“Miss Spencer, how lovely to see you again.”