Page 10 of The Beast of Barendale Manor

Evangeline attempted to keep her expression neutral, but it was a hard thing to achieve.

The dance had lit something up within her, and watching Edmund now, he seemed like an utterly different man. As they moved about the floor in the circling, sweeping elegance of the waltz, it was as though they were one body, not separated by anything at all.

She felt connected to him in a way she had never experienced before, a light sparking between them like a candle in the dark.

But as soon as the music ended, she became aware of the many eyes upon them and the whispering filling the air. She could not help but glance at the crowd, and as she did so, Edmund became aware of them, too.

He stiffened immediately, a telltale hand coming up to touch his collar. His face twisted as he tried to hide his scars from the room. The easy gentleness of his touch disappeared as he stepped swiftly back, bowing to her uncomfortably and walking away to hide in the shadows.

She was breathless and confused, but as hostess she could not risk showing her feelings to the crowd. She pasted on a smile and left the floor.

Ensuring her head was held high she had kept her composure admirably until she passed a group of women to her right and overheard a snippet of their conversation.

“Do you think they are not friendly with one another? One can hardly be surprised. She is so young, and the earl so marked by life.”

She almost turned to confront them but knew she would never risk the scandal. If she were to turn on her guests, it would be the last ball she ever hosted at the manor.

Relief rushed through her as Edmund’s mother approached her in the crowd. They reached for one another, and Lady Viola led her to the refreshment table. Evangeline distracted herself by ordering a glass of punch and trying to calm her hammering heartbeat.

“You are a beautiful couple about the floor, I must admit,” the dowager countess stated with a gentle smile.

“Thank you, my lady, he is an excellent dancer,” Evangeline managed.

“Edmund always was. I have missed watching him.”

Evangeline’s gut clenched as she thought of what that implied. He used to dance with Adelaide. She kept the smile on her face, sipping her punch and watching Edmund across the room. He was flushed and standing beside Colin again, the other man speaking urgently to him, their heads bowed together.

Evangeline glanced across the room at her father and mother. Lord and Lady Longford stood beside one another, the very picture of propriety, but she could see the hard line around her mother’s mouth. She looked about for Matilda and was pleased to see she was dancing. Her partner was a heavy-set man who lacked the grace Edmund possessed upon the floor, but he was smiling cheerfully down at her sister.

Matilda looked happy, which was more than could be said for Evangeline’s father. He watched their movements like a hawk, his fist gripping his glass so tightly he might snap the stem.

She longed for her sister to break out of the mould that her father had forced them both into. Evangeline hoped, with her own successful marriage, that her sister would be allowed to choose someone she cared for when her turn came, rather than have a match thrust upon her.

Is my marriage successful? She wondered. It does not seem to be tonight. I am on the other side of the room to my husband, and he has barely spoken to anyone.

With a heavy sigh, she smiled at the Dowager Countess and returned to her guests. No one would leave this ball without acknowledging her impeccable taste and decorum—that, at least, she could guarantee.

***

Edmund found himself cornered by the Montagues later in the evening. They were a pedantic couple, always finding fault in everything about them, including each other.

“We were most surprised by your choice of bride, my Lord,” Lady Montague said. In her aged years, any sense of propriety was leaving her, and she tended to speak her mind rather boldly.

“Indeed,” Edmund replied, hardly listening to her.

“She is not of the rank that I would have expected for an earl.”

“Her father is a baron,” Edmund said through clenched teeth, trying to remain calm. “And Evangeline is one of the most accomplished women in society.”

“Elizabeth Wirral plays the pianoforte far better than her. I heard her at a concert last evening, and it was remarkable.”

“Elizabeth Wirral’s father is a baronet ,” Edmund stated firmly, seeing Lady Montague’s eyes widen in affronted outrage. He knew it was unwise to speak so, but he would not hear a word against Evangeline—not tonight.

She was ethereal as he watched her. Moving around the room just as she had at their wedding, as though she were a fairy distributing magic wherever she went. Each group she passed would be laughing when she left them. She had a natural way with people and a wide, happy smile that he was becoming addicted to.

“How does the new countess like the manor?” Lord Montague asked rather pompously. “I hear you are renovating now that you have her dowry.”

This was beyond reproach at this point, and Edmund gave him a withering glare. They both scuttled away back into the gossiping crown. He knew he would have done himself no favours by treating them impolitely, but he had scant regard for demeaning himself in the presence of rude and uncouth individuals among his acquaintances.

He watched the Montague’s whispering together a few feet away and straightened his coat, looking across the floor to some of his acquaintances who he had not spoken to in a long while.

He avoided Colin, who was intent on dragging him from the room to look at his ledgers, and decided that, for one night at least, he would be the dutiful host. His wife deserved it after all the work she had done, and it was the least he could do.

***

As the night drew to a close, tiredness dragged at Evangeline’s eyes, and she felt utterly exhausted. Matilda pushed through the crowd toward her, and she knew that her parents would be leaving soon.

They embraced fiercely and Matilda held onto her so tightly Evangeline could not help but laugh.

“Did Lord Barstow mean it?” Matilda asked.

“Of course, you are welcome to come and stay with us any time you wish.”

Matilda grinned, but then she looked behind her, and when she turned back to Evangeline, her expression was grave.

“Are you happy here?” she asked earnestly, gripping Evangeline’s hands in hers. “You know I would ride all night and take you back to London if he was mistreating you.”

Evangeline’s eyes grew wide as she stared at her sister. “Mistreating me?”

“There are some dreadful rumours,” Matilda whispered, “people are saying awful things about what happened to his first wife and—”

“Matilda, listen to me; all of that is a lie. He saved her from the fire, but she died from her injuries. Edmund is a good man; he would never harm me. Never.”

Matilda nodded as their parents came up behind her in the crowd. Evangeline hugged her mother and gave her father a perfunctory kiss on the cheek, watching them leave the ballroom with a strange sense of relief. Their presence reminded her of an old life, and if she tried to cling to it forever, she would drive herself mad.

Looking at the edges of the room as the guests mingled and the final dance of the evening began, she glanced at the terrace, desperate for some fresh air from the heat of the ballroom. Seeing that she was not needed elsewhere, she made her way slowly through the room, quietly congratulating herself on an excellent evening.

The ball had been a triumph, though she said it herself, and she was proud of all that she had achieved.

She opened the terrace door and slipped outside into the darkness of the night, feeling the chill about her shoulders and breathing in the scent of roses in the air. The moon was full in the sky, bathing everything in a silvery light.

Looking to her right, she was surprised to see a figure before her, silhouetted against the backdrop of the estate. She was even more surprised when it turned to reveal Edmund.

She had lost track of him in the crowds and had rather thought he had gone away to hide in his study. But he was still here, trying to support her, even when it was clear he hated having to socialize with so many people.

As the breeze picked up, stirring her hair about her face, she looked up at him, and their gazes met. His gray eyes were twinkling like stars in the inky darkness about them. The heavy curtains that partially obscured the light from the ballroom did little to illuminate them both.

The lilting music of the last dance of the evening permeated the thin windows behind them, and Evangeline had the absurd thought that they might dance together here, alone beneath the moonlight.

Edmund moved toward her, and for a moment, she thought that her fantasy was coming true, but instead, he removed his coat and placed it about her shoulders. It was only then that she realized she was shivering violently from the cold.

He pulled the lapels around her shoulders, and suddenly, there were mere inches between them. Those sparkling eyes looked down at her with a strange expression on his face.

He was such a puzzle to her. There was one man who she had met at their wedding, gruff and quiet and never wishing to speak more than a few words together. And then there was the man in the library, who caught her breath when she thought of his smiles, who looked at her as he was doing now, with such a sense of longing she felt the breath catch in her throat.

His hands remained beneath her chin, holding the lapels of his coat together and she could feel the transferred warmth from his body as it settled over her shoulders.

For a suspended moment, all she could hear was the music from the ballroom, as though it were a song played just for them. The soft moonlight illuminated the left side of Edmund’s face, and she thought for a few seconds that he looked like the man he had once been, impossibly handsome and undamaged.

They stared at each other, and she was unsure which of them moved first, but suddenly, they had leaned into one another, and Edmund’s hands had tightened about her. She was pulled toward him, inexorably forward, and then, like a dream, their lips touched and came together in a wonderful, secret kiss that she could hardly believe was happening.

He pulled back a little as though to gauge her reaction. When she did not look away, he leaned in and kissed her again, his lips slightly parted, his hands coming to rest on her shoulders, pressing against her as she experienced the clean taste of him for the first time.

But almost as soon as it began, Edmund pulled away, a haunted look coming over his eyes as his gaze shifted behind her. Her heart sank as she recognized where he was looking—at the charred walls of the east wing that loomed behind them in the shadows.

Edmund looked back at her; his eyes filled with grief.

“My apologies, Evangeline, I should bid you goodnight.”

He turned and walked swiftly back into the ballroom, closing the door gently behind him. Evangeline stood in the darkness, staring after him in confusion, his jacket still about her shoulders, the warmth from his body fading as the cold seeped into her skin.