Page 9 of The Beast of Barendale Manor

The day of the ball was upon them, and the manor was alive with activity. The ballroom was in the main portion of the house where the fire had not taken hold, and all routes to the east wing had been closed to prevent any guests from wandering about or searching for scandal amidst the damage.

Edmund was still wary of gossip. He would never have chosen to hold a ball until the repairs had been completed, but having seen Evangeline’s excitement in the preceding days and the tentative strand of connection forming between them, he had tried to be supportive.

He was pacing in his study, the burden of so many years away from society weighing heavily on his shoulders. There was a single mirror in this room that had remained since his father’s days. It was speckled by time and tarnished, but he could still see his reflection in it every time he turned about.

He must have adjusted his cravat ten times already, and every time he looked at it, it seemed crooked.

He could not think that the ball would be a success. His mother and Evangeline were excited to welcome the guests, but, for Edmund, he dreaded every moment of it.

Not only would he have to endure the constant staring, but he knew the gossip would only multiply as they scrutinized every aspect of his new life.

The east wing was hidden from view from the main drive up to the house, so at least he was spared the pitying glances of those who might comment on the damage.

Edmund ran a hand through his hair, wishing that he had thought of an excuse. Perhaps he could feign an illness and hide away in the library until it was all over.

He wanted to repeat that wonderful afternoon when he had sat with Evangeline for hours, just speaking about their likes and dislikes. He had been mesmerized by her and ever since then, every time they had been around one another, the conversation had come a little easier.

Even Colin, who had dominated discussions at dinner had occasionally fallen silent as they had spoken on a subject they were both interested in.

That happened often, much to Edmund’s delight. They appeared to share taste in a great many things. He had ordered several more volumes of poetry so that she might always have something to enjoy in the sprawling madness of his estate.

Even as the hours ticked by and the dreaded event neared, a small part of him was excited to see Evangeline. He had not expected to feel that way, but now there was a bubble of hope in his breast whenever he thought of her. He wanted to make her happy.

He turned again to the mirror and stopped before it, allowing himself a long and rare look at the man beneath the scars.

What does Evangeline see? He wondered. And how do I capture that man who she believes is worthy and bring him to the surface?

***

Evangeline stood at the top of the stairs and tried not to faint.

She had never been so nervous. Her first ball at twenty years of age, and she had organized everything, right down to the recipe for the punch.

Edmund’s mother had been incredibly supportive but had allowed her free reign to do as she saw fit. It was a courtesy she greatly appreciated, particularly when she was aware that everything she did would be compared to the previous countess.

Evangeline didn’t know if Adelaide had held many balls in her short life. If she had, Evangeline hoped that this one would complement or equal them—she had no wish to outshine a woman who had tragically died in her prime.

As she descended the stairs, her dress tinkled merrily. There were so many beads about the base that she sparkled whenever she walked. The dress was pure white muslin and the finest gown she had ever owned, with the outlines of roses sewn across the fabric and crystals in the sleeves.

As she reached the last few steps, a door opened down the corridor, and Edmund emerged, walking swiftly toward the ballroom. He saw her at the last minute and stopped in his tracks, his mouth open in amazement.

Evangeline had never seen him look better. With his strict black evening coat and cravat arranged just so, he was a picture of the perfect gentleman. She did not even see his scars, just the handsome man beneath them.

She smiled at him, and he returned it with that rare, secret smile she was coming to see was reserved for her alone.

“You look beautiful,” Edmund said suddenly, and Evangeline felt her cheeks blush furiously at the compliment.

“Thank you,” she said, approaching him as he offered her his arm. “You present yourself quite elegantly, I must say.”

He only nodded at that and walked them toward the ballroom as the guests began to arrive. She wished she could convince him how handsome he was, but she knew it was a wasted effort. To him, he would always be the Beast of Barendale; such cruel names tended to stick in one’s mind forever.

I shall just have to show him how wrong he is, she thought with determination.

***

As the guests began to arrive, Edmund’s discomfort mounted. He felt like a curiosity at a circus being stared at through the bars of a cage he had built himself.

Many men shook his hand, their eyes lingering on his face. The younger women in the crowd were far less subtle about their obvious scrutiny.

Have you heard he has not left the house in almost three years? … Are you aware his wife died in a fire in this very house? … He tried to save her but was horribly burned…

Edmund felt faintly sick. Snippets of real and imaginary conversations circled around his mind as he attempted not to run from the room. He managed to stand in the entryway welcoming everyone as was his duty, but he could not smile and fawn as other hosts often did.

His mother hovered close by, keeping a careful watch on him, but he was grateful that she was allowing Evangeline to shine.

She needs no help with that.

Evangeline looked breathtaking. When he saw her descending the stairs, he was utterly lost for words by her radiant beauty. She was the picture of the perfect hostess, the countess that everyone deserved, and she played the part to perfection. Standing with her on his arm, he felt even more damaged and broken.

How could anyone not compare us? How could anyone not pity her?

A gentle hand rested on his forearm during a break in the guests and he looked down at Evangeline as she smiled up at him.

“Are you alright?” she asked gently. There was no pity in her eyes. “I can imagine this is a great deal to process when you have been away from society for so long. You are being an excellent host.”

His chest swelled at the compliment, but there was a flicker of uncertainty in Evangeline’s eyes that he could not place.

“Thank you, you are right. I am unaccustomed to so many people in these halls.”

“Did you ever hold balls in the past?” she asked. Her questions about his time with Adelaide were always respectful, as though she were gently curious but not prying. He appreciated it more than he could say.

“A few. Not too many. Adelaide was always more willing to organize them than I was. It’s a lot of fuss,” he said honestly.

“I suppose it is,” she said, “but I am very pleased to be here with you.”

She shook hands with an elderly couple named Montague, who were quite the most boring of Edmund’s distant acquaintances.

“Bad weather for a ball,” muttered Lord Montague as he ambled into the room. “Looks like rain.”

Edmund could only glance at Evangeline, who was smiling after him, utterly unfazed.

“The only way one can be seen in society is to stand within it,” she continued, watching the mingling guests. “That is the plague of our world. In my first season, I did not feel like myself. We have a persona here and a different one in the privacy of our homes. You are not alone in that by any means.”

Edmund contemplated her words carefully, considering their basis and finding that he agreed with her. Perhaps that was the secret—hiding a piece of yourself from others so that you knew who you really were away from prying eyes. He rather liked the idea.

Evangeline’s whole body stiffened, and she squeezed his arm all the tighter as her sister Matilda all but ran through the door and into Evangeline’s arms. Her parents followed rather more sedately. Her mother wore a beautiful white gown with a train at the back and Lord Longford looked every bit the baron he aspired to be.

Matilda was glowing with excitement as she stood back and gushed over her sister’s gown. There were three or four words spoken together that made up a sentence about lace that Edmund did not understand at all.

Matilda’s gaze finally fell on him, and the curtsy she performed looked forced at best. Edmund knew he had been impossibly rude the last time he had seen the poor girl and could well imagine what she thought of him. He was desperate for her to like him and managed to paste on a smile as she eyed him suspiciously.

“Matilda,” her sister admonished softly.

“Good evening, Miss Matilda,” Edmund said quickly. You look very well. I am glad you could come to our little gathering,” he said as warmly as he could. Matilda looked at her sister and then back at him.

“Is it true that you have twelve horses?” Matilda asked, and her mother leaned forward and whispered something harshly in her ear. Edmund was smiling again. Matilda reminded him of Evangeline.

“It is true. Why did you wish to ride one?”

Matilda’s eyes lit up. “Could I?”

“On one condition,” Edmund replied, and Matilda nodded. “My horses are very sensitive creatures. If you were to ride one on a single day, they would be quite heartbroken were you to leave immediately. You would need to visit for at least a week to make it fair to them.”

Matilda’s eyes lit up, and Edmund was dismayed to see tears pool at the back of them as she glanced at her sister again.

“Could I really come and stay with you?” she asked Evangeline, looking in awe at her surroundings.

Edmund glanced at Lord Longford. He was unsurprised to see the sour expression on the man’s face. Clearly, the baron did not approve of Matilda coming to stay with them.

He cannot marry her off if she is out of his sight, after all. Edmund thought bitterly.

“You are welcome any time, Miss Matilda,” he added firmly.

As her family moved away, Evangeline looked up at him with a beaming smile.

“If you allow her to partake of your cook’s excellent breakfast and ride your horses, she might never leave.”

“Would that please you?” he asked.

“More than I can say, but Matilda must make her own way in the world. I only hope she does not live too far away in the future.”

As their final guests arrived, Edmund led his wife into the ballroom, which had been beautifully decorated in gold and white. The ladies in their white gowns complimented everything perfectly and almost seemed to mirror the chequered floor beneath their feet.

Evangeline was soon called away by his mother to answer a question of one of the other ladies and he stood at the edge of the room watching her happily. She was a natural hostess and mingled with everyone seamlessly.

Relief threatened to overwhelm him as he realized how much he had worried about how she would be received. He should not have wasted his time—she was the belle of the ball, and he had never felt prouder to have her on his arm.

As he stood watching her, Colin approached him, looking very smart in his formal evening wear. He held a glass of champagne in each hand and saluted him, handing him one as the two men settled into the side of the ballroom, watching the crowds mingling.

“It is a triumph!” Colin said cordially as he sipped his drink. “How do you feel about all of this, given the situation with your accounts?”

Edmund glanced at him irritably. Is now the time to speak of the finances? I am trying to enjoy myself.

“It is a necessity,” he said coldly, “to ensure Evangeline feels welcome.”

“Oh, of course, I merely mean that she appears to have spared no expense. She is not privy to your financial woes, I assume?”

Edmund disliked both the tone and topic of the conversation and his chest tightened at the reminder of the endless ledgers on his desk.

“Evangeline has made all of the decisions, as you say, and she has given me a list of everything that has been paid for. Indeed, I am rather impressed she has not spent more, given the opulence of what is on display. She is a gifted hostess.”

Colin said nothing, sipping his champagne for a little longer as the next set was about to begin.

“Did you have a chance to review the documents I left for you?” he asked suddenly.

Edmund glanced at him. “I did not have a chance, no.”

“They are most illuminating. I believe they may shed some light on why the accounts have been so troublesome these last few months.”

Edmund turned to him, a spark of excitement igniting between them. “Are you sure?”

“I am. I have found something that I think you will be most interested in.” Colin finished his champagne, handing it to a passing servant. “We could review it now if you have time. I know you may be needed eventually, but Evangeline clearly has everything in hand.”

Edmund looked at the ballroom and at Evangeline’s effervescent figure on the other side speaking to a group of women all a flutter with how exquisite the room looked. She did not need him, and, in truth, he would rather be in the seclusion of his study than standing here amongst all these gawping guests. Even now, he could feel the curious glances from all sides.

Colin’s hand was on his arm before he could decide what he wanted to do, and he allowed himself to be led away.

Evangeline will not miss me for a few minutes.

“Edmund!”

He turned as his mother moved toward them through the crowd, a white feather in her hair flowing behind her like a beacon.

His mother glanced at Colin irritably and at the hand that was still on Edmund’s forearm.

“You are not leaving, surely; the Waltz is about to begin! Do you not wish to dance with your wife?”

Edmund hesitated. Colin’s jaw clenched with apparent irritation, but he gave the dowager countess a tight smile, and Edmund was lost in indecision.

A dance in the centre of the room with all eyes on me?

He could not think of anything worse. But as he looked at Evangeline, she was the most radiant woman he had ever seen, and without conscious thought, he began to move toward her.

“Perhaps you are right, Mama,” he said quickly and approached Evangeline across the open floor where the other couples were gathering. The opportunity to hold her in his arms was not one he could pass up.

The group of women Evangeline was speaking to fell suddenly silent as he approached. Some of them were wide-eyed and staring openly at his scar, but he kept his gaze fixed on those ocean-blue orbs.

“If you are not indisposed, would you do me the honour of dancing with me?” he asked. He offered his left hand, the scars obvious and stark against her pure white skin, but Evangeline’s eyes were alight with joy, and he would not have rescinded the offer for anything.

She gave a nod, and they moved into the centre of the dance floor. Edmund was acutely aware of the eyes following them, but he focused on his wife as she gazed up at him.

As the music began, Edmund found himself lost in the dance. Her beautiful form complimented his to perfection as they moved in total synchrony about the floor. He felt a sharp thrill to hold her against him, his hand upon her waist.

As the dance continued, the weight of societal expectations and all the darkness in his past faded away until no one else was in the room—there was no longer a Beast of Barendale Manor—there was only Edmund and Evangeline.