Page 8 of The Beast of Barendale Manor

Once he had returned from his ride with Jonathan, Edmund had been bombarded with questions by the servants on the upcoming ball.

Feeling his temper rising at the constant questions and inevitable cost of it all, he had sequestered himself away in the library, hoping that he could find a few moments of peace.

The room was a gentle comfort. He always felt welcome amongst the musty shelves of leather-bound volumes. The fire crackled merrily in the grate, and although chilly, he rather liked the cold. Since Adelaide’s death, he had preferred a colder house. He was always wary of candles in any form and grew nervous if he saw them placed close to curtains.

After her death, when he was well enough to move about, he had gone around the house, blowing them out one by one. It had taken the housekeeper complaining of the dark in every room for him to desist, but the sight of them still made him uneasy.

He sat in an armchair before the fire, ensconced in a history book about ancient Egypt. He was glad to be free of his ledgers. It seemed he had been buried in numbers and calculations for months.

The door creaked open, and Edmund closed his eyes, convinced that Croft had come to find him to ask him another question about the estate. Instead, it was Evangeline’s head that came around the door, looking into the library as though she were a guilty child breaking into a sweet shop.

As soon as she laid eyes on Edmund she flinched as though unsure whether she was welcome in his presence.

And why shouldn’t she? He thought angrily. I have hardly made her feel welcome anywhere else in the house.

“My apologies, my Lord,” Evangeline said, moving as though to leave again.

“Please, come in,” Edmund said hurriedly, surprising himself at the invitation. “I do not want you to leave.”

Evangeline gently entered the room, allowing the door to close softly behind her, while their gazes met and lingered. Evangeline’s face had the same expression as his—a quiet calm. The library was a solitary place, somewhere to lose oneself in a story.

He sat back in his chair, forcing himself not to hide his hand or cover his face. The scarring seemed all the more apparent in the flickering, shadowy firelight.

“I am sorry,” he managed eventually. Evangeline turned to him with a frown. “I have been absent a great deal this last week. I imagine this is not what you had hoped for our first few days of marriage.”

I am sure you would have preferred a handsome man who was not hiding from the world.

Instead of agreeing with him or even accusing him of neglect, she took another step forward, and he indicated that she should sit in the seat opposite him.

She did so, smoothing her skirts over her knees and sitting very straight, looking about her. He could not take his eyes off her. She had an exquisite face, almost perfect in appearance, and he found himself drawn back time and again to those wide, disarming eyes.

“What have you been occupied with, my Lord?”

“Please call me Edmund. We are married, after all.”

“What has had you so occupied, Edmund?”

“The estate, for one. I had a meeting with my steward today, and I have been seeing to my accounts and writing many letters to my solicitors.” He sighed. “I know I have not been present, and we have not spoken a great deal.” He rubbed his hands on his knees, noting that they were clammy as his nerves returned. He simply did not know what to say to her. “How do you like Barendale?”

Her eyelashes fluttered a little, and a faint smile touched her face. “Very well indeed,” she replied. “I have been busy with the dowager countess for much of today preparing for the ball.”

Edmund clearly did not school his expression well enough, and she nodded as though her suspicions had been confirmed.

“You would prefer we did not hold a ball?”

Edmund leaned back in his chair, pursing his lips thoughtfully.

“I am not opposed to balls in general, but I would have preferred a little more time after the wedding before we held it. However, I am conscious this is to welcome you as my new bride, and delaying things would hardly be conducive to that.” She gave a light tinkling laugh, and he looked at her in astonishment. “What is funny?”

“Nothing. It is just that this is the most I have heard you speak since I arrived here. I had wondered whether you objected to full sentences with more than five words in them.”

Her face was all amusement and Edmund found that his own lips twitched at her teasing. He was not accustomed to the feeling, and in that moment, it was as though something awakened in him that had been long dormant.

“Any sentence that employs more than twenty words is unnecessary,” he said, and warmth bloomed through his chest as she laughed again. She was even more stunning when she smiled, and there was a kindness and gentleness about her manner that instantly charmed him.

“I quite agree, my Lord, words can be most unnecessary.”

“I believe this library would disagree with you,” he said good-naturedly as her eyes ran over the shelves again.

“Thank you for the poems. I think I have fallen in love with William Wordsworth.”

“I do not blame you. He is exquisite. Rivaled only by Shakespeare in my view.”

Her eyes lit up instantly. “Which is your favourite?”

“Sonnet or play?”

“Play,” she said after thinking about it for a little while.

“Othello.”

“Oh! It is mine, too. Othello or King Lear. My father took me to a production of Othello last year and I declare I did not stop crying for a full week.”

Edmund was aware that he was smiling. He could not remember the last time he had smiled so easily.

“I have never seen it performed,” he said casually, purely to see her reaction, and Evangeline did not disappoint.

“Oh, we must go! It is one of the most wonderful plays to see on stage.”

“I have not been to the theatre for years.”

Her smile faltered a fraction, and the animation in her eyes dimmed.

“I hope you know I would never wish to bring you painful memories. If it is something you did with Adelaide, I would never presume to take her place in your affections.”

Edmund frowned at her. He had not expected her to bring up his first wife so easily, but now that she had, he was glad of it. It was brave, he realized, for her to mention it to him so early in the acquaintance. It was as though the shroud that had surrounded them lifted a little.

“Thank you, Evangeline. But in fact, Adelaide hated the theatre. We had many discussions about the plays I attended alone. People were talking, you see, as people always do.”

“Well then, I would love to go to the theatre with you. We should see when they next have a production.”

Edmund found himself very keen on the idea. “You would not mind being seen with the Beast of Barendale?” he asked, finally broaching the other unsavoury subject between them.

Might as well get it all out in the open.

Evangeline sat back in her chair, leveling him with a long stare, and Edmund found himself quite unmanned by it.

“You mean, would I wish to be seen in public with my husband? Yes, I would. And there are no beasts behind these walls. Just men who speak in short sentences.”

The bark of laughter that her comment prompted in him surprised them both. In fact, Edmund could not recall when he had smiled so much. He certainly couldn’t remember the last time he had laughed.

Evangeline seemed disinclined to leave now that they had settled down together. As the afternoon sun moved across the room and the shadows grew longer all about them, their conversation ebbed and flowed quite naturally.

He found that she had a sharp wit that he had not seen any sign of around her family. She was a fiercely intelligent woman, and the discussion of their favourite books showed that she was almost as well-read as he was. He would wager she had read nearly the entire literary section of his library already, and he liked the idea of stocking the shelves with new volumes just for her.

As the bell rang for dinner, Edmund looked at the time in shocked astonishment. They had been speaking for hours without pausing for breath. He had found her company so enjoyable, in fact, that all the worries and doubts of the past few days had been firmly held at bay by her lively conversation.

If I can hope for nothing more, I hope we can be friends in this marriage, if not lovers.

***

As they rose from their chairs, Evangeline felt lighter in herself than she had in days. This was not the brooding, angry man she had grown used to over the past week. She had finally seen the true face beneath the scars, a man who enjoyed debates, who loved Shakespeare and studied history and philosophy whenever he had the chance.

She had also seen him smile. Edmund had a wonderful smile, it lit up his whole countenance, and despite the scars marring one side of his face, it gave him a schoolboy charm. She wanted to make him smile every day now that she had seen it, and the joy of hearing him laugh had been a truly all-consuming thing.

They moved toward the library door, both walking slowly as though they were reluctant to break the spell that had been cast upon them. Their time in the library had been the happiest that Evangeline had spent in the manor. There was a warmth between them now, and Edmund’s scowling visage had relaxed to a gentle, open expression that she adored.

As she opened the door, she jumped back when she found someone on the other side. Colin was standing before her, with his hand raised as though to knock, but it seemed a strange gesture, as though he had just adopted it when the door had opened.

“My apologies, Countess; I did not mean to startle you.” He gave her the same wide grin that did not reach his eyes, and Evangeline struggled to return it, glancing at Edmund. She was never sure how to act around his cousin.

Colin proceeded to step into the room, manoeuvring himself between Evangeline and Edmund and placing a hand on Edmund’s shoulder. Colin bowed his head, speaking in low, hushed tones that excluded Evangeline from the conversation entirely.

“I had intended to speak to you of the most recent report from Timmons…” he said, but the rest of the words were lost as he lowered his voice yet further.

Colin’s free hand began gesticulating wildly. Evangeline was forced to take a step away from them to prevent his hand from colliding with her. The easiness of Edmund’s manner had now disappeared, his back stiffening, the familiar tension returning to his jaw. It was as though Colin’s presence had shattered the fragile connection they had forged over their time together, and Evangeline was left feeling terribly alone.

As Colin continued to speak to Edmund, she excused herself quietly and made to leave the room.

“Ah, Countess!” Colin said suddenly, turning as though only just noticing she was still present. “I had not meant to make you depart.”

Evangeline gave him a tight smile, uncertain what else he had intended, but remained where she was. Edmund’s gray eyes were watching her warily.

“How are the preparations for the ball going?” Colin inquired, and his interest seemed genuine.

“Very well, I believe we have finalized the guest list, and the Dowager Countess and I felt that a black-and-white theme might be diverting. It suits the end of the winter months and is always popular with the ladies in society.”

“Capital!” Colin said with the same obsequious smile, but his attention was now on Edmund. As Evangeline spoke of the ball, Edmund’s shoulders tensed considerably, and Colin appeared to observe it with some satisfaction.

When no other questions were asked, Evangeline left the library, feeling torn. She was unsure whether she was reading into Colin’s behaviour or whether the strange disquiet she felt in his presence was to be trusted.

As she walked down the dark corridor away from the library, she heard the animated lilting style of Colin’s voice echoing behind her and the shorter, staccato responses from Edmund.

Yet, when he was with me, we spoke for hours as though we had known one another for years.