Compromised into Marriage Page 8

  ‘His housekeeper has no complaints of Everleigh,’ Vivian continued, ‘and she said he is amazingly reclusive even in his own home. His valet tends him with great care. Everleigh is reluctant to spend time with his father, though the Earl visits him regularly. In town, Everleigh is dedicated to improving the conditions of the city. But he’s not much for socialising—as you’re aware. Even with choosing the guest list carefully, I wasn’t sure he’d attend. Mother worked hard. Mavis passed the news to Mrs Rush, who was to tell his butler to put in a word with his man-of-affairs to speak highly of the night.’

  ‘Viv. I must warn you off. I don’t think he is a man you should be aware of.’

  ‘How many unmarried men of the ton—the ones you see at clubs—do you think are suitable for me to court?’

  ‘You ask too many questions.’ He stepped away, taking the pitcher of lemonade from a passing footman, pouring himself another drink, then swirling the liquid in the glass. ‘I am so pleased to see your health returning, but I would hate to see a setback caused by a romance with him. Vivie, you are my daughter.’ He frowned. ‘It’s my job as your father to keep the unworthy men away from you.’

  ‘Well, put some worthy ones my way. I’m curious.’

  ‘You certainly did not invite the right crowd for yourself. It is time you married, though.’ He patted her back. ‘I’m so pleased to see you taking an interest in society.’ Then he walked away, humming under his breath.

  Vivian stood at the refreshment table, thinking of the way Everleigh’s cravat had felt in her hands.

  At the beginning of the night, her father had consented to introduce her to Everleigh. Everleigh had been overly solemn, treating the meeting as if he’d never heard Vivian’s name before.

  Then a guest with his mind focused on sewers ambled over and motioned him away to talk of rain drainage.

  Now, she noticed Everleigh’s study of her. Then he gave a slight bow.

  From across the room, she gave a small curtsy.

  His lips pressed together, but the edges shifted upwards—almost as if prised. It took a heartbeat, but then he walked her direction.

  She turned to the quartet and signalled the leader, who nodded.

  They’d just started the current piece of music, but next would be a waltz. She wanted to adjust her gloves or touch her hair, but instead, she forced herself to stay still and her appearance calm.

  Everleigh stopped in front of her.

  ‘I almost didn’t recognise you earlier. I’m so pleased to see your health has improved.’

  The music isolated them from the rest of the room. She had to move close to hear his words and noticed he dipped his head to her. Watching his mouth to read his lips heightened her awareness.

  ‘I’ve been getting well.’

  ‘I’m pleased.’

  She checked his expression carefully. He told the truth in a way that went deeper than idle speech.

  ‘Yes, but I’ve still no wish to waste time. Pretend it’s well into the night and continue speaking your thoughts to me. I find them enlightening.’

  ‘No man wishes anyone to know everything he thinks. He would likely lose all his friends.’

  ‘I would say a man doesn’t even know all his own mind if the actions I’ve seen some of them take are any indication.’

  ‘We’re not a perfect gender. We leave perfection to the women.’ His head swooped closer to hers and her mind took him in like a blast of something much stronger than lemonade. He smelled of starch and clean linen, and maleness. Better than new gloves and slippers combined. The same power his lips had wielded on her with a kiss now she felt just from his proximity.

  ‘Your questions revealed as much as you asked and I didn’t feel as if you were trying to manoeuvre me as much as know my thoughts.’ His words softened. ‘But don’t expect such frankness again.’

  ‘Perhaps you will miss it.’

  He glimpsed the other guests before his perusal returned to her. ‘I could not say otherwise. But I notice the men who’ve been invited here and I imagine all the preparations involved in a soirée. All the guests are solemn, content to gather in groups to discuss work. An event designed around guests which would make it necessary for me to attend.’

  She didn’t back away from it. ‘Give me recognition for the attempt. It took careful planning and research. Mother even visited wives so husbands’ arms could be twisted, pleasantly of course.’ She paused. ‘I wanted a waltz, I suppose.’

  He lifted one brow. ‘You refused it before.’

  ‘Yes. But I’m not dying now. And to speak with you is so different from what I am used to. Do you think I could ask the same questions of any other man that I ask of you? I’ve never even spoken so bluntly with my father, although I do with my mother.’

  ‘Well, I don’t think it is expected of you. Particularly if you are interested in marriage. Fluff catches more notice from the male of the species than seriousness.’

  She didn’t let her expression falter. ‘Of all the sins in life, I don’t remember seeing blunt conversation on the list.’ She shrugged. ‘Nor is selecting a husband, although sometimes I’m not certain it shouldn’t be. Depends on the husband, I suppose.’

  He laughed, then shifted sideways, moving so no one in the room but she could read his expression. His words were soft.

  ‘Your father is not happy at the sight of our standing close.’

  She couldn’t see her father past Everleigh’s shoulder. ‘In that case, he would be disgruntled if he knew we’d visited previously, I’d imagine. I don’t think he’d understand that my main concern was recovering.’

  Edging around Everleigh, she peered at her father. He frowned at them, then glowered at his lemonade, gripping it with white knuckles.

  If he’d had a stronger libation in his glass, he wouldn’t have noticed whom she danced with. His attempt at sobriety might not last past the evening.

  ‘Your father doesn’t like that I am near you.’

  ‘Are you certain?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said.

  ‘Don’t believe that you are the sole cause of his glares. He combats his weaknesses and the fight inside him shows, but is directed at himself.’

  Her father appeared distant and Everleigh more so, but she could sense his attention. She wondered how she could ever have asked someone for a kiss who appeared so confident. She would not have thought herself brave enough. She’d been so ill her mind must have been muddled, but she didn’t regret it.

  The first bars of music from the next dance would have covered his words, except his mouth had moved near her ear. ‘A waltz is beginning. I do remember your refusal of my first request and I’m giving you a second chance to turn me down.’

  ‘That is your error, then. I have no plans to refuse, and had asked for the waltz to be played should you stand near me. I hated to say no the first time. I wanted another opportunity.’

  He swept her into the dance and kept a more-than-respectful distance, and a perfect light touch on her back, as he swirled her around the floor.

  He didn’t speak and neither did she. The movement of their steps joined them, but the silence changed the dance into something different. She refused to chatter on about nonsense and relished the music, the motion and the man.

  In her mind, this truly signalled the rest of her life. The dancing was glorious.

  This was the first time her slippers had been used and would not be the last. She’d planned that her initial return to society would be with Everleigh in a waltz she had dreamed of, and could manage with ease. Proof she had returned to a life that had been interrupted.

  He had kissed her. That day had initiated her journey into a world that she could now take part in. Now she swirled through the movements with him, putting the last bit of polish on the adventure of living again. Only this time, she would not flutter at the
edges. She would leap into the experience and savour her existence.

  She had carefully planned this first guest list and she would plan the next one without architects.

  She had tried to fulfil the promise to Ella Etta, and perhaps she would at some point, but Everleigh would have to agree and that would take time.

  The music ended and Everleigh escorted her near the entrance, which had been abandoned. Both waited in a companionable silence.

  Then he bowed to her. She inclined her head and strolled away to her father.

  ‘He’s not for you.’ He offered the words with a mild grimace. ‘You’re smarter than that, Vivian. If you marry, you want a husband who adores you. One who thinks of you first. Who is over the moon for you. Much like the man I was when your mother and I married and I intend to become again.’

  ‘Would you mind too terribly if I didn’t wed?’ Vivian asked.

  Her father ducked his head. ‘I would feel I’d failed you.’

  ‘Nonsense.’ She tucked her hand around his arm. ‘You have encouraged me and cherished me.’

  ‘I appreciate your saying that. But you must have a husband. It is the way of things.’

  Then a guest called to him. He patted Vivian’s hand and extricated himself, but Vivian squeezed his arm, signalling him to wait.

  Vivian clenched her jaw. Marriage would have been the way of things for her had she not stared at the walls around her. Before, she had known she would some day marry and, if her parents’ rules seemed constricting, she had always expected that soon she would have her own household.

  When she came out in society, all the world had glittered in front of her. But before she could immerse herself in it, her body trapped her into a world of solitude and immobility. She’d been crushed inside as well as out.

  Her parents adored her and they were celebrating her return and understanding of her wish to experience life.

  Everleigh’s form flashed in her line of vision. He talked with someone—another of the architects. She noticed the way he held himself. The way he towered above the others. His dark hair. Imagined his devilish stare, but she’d experienced his kindness.

  Her voice remained calm, but she didn’t raise it more than enough to reach past her father. ‘I think I might almost be, thereabouts, in fondness with him.’

  She did like Everleigh, and she had made the promise.

  Her father faltered in his steps, waving the other man away, and his mouth opened.

  ‘A young girl’s fancy.’ His voice, the same one he would have used to calm her if she’d seen a snake. ‘Vivie. You’ve been sick. You’ve missed the chance to be courted properly.’ His posture stiffened and his hand tensed at her waist. ‘You need to reconsider. To be courted. To be pursued by someone who cares enough to seek you out.’

  ‘He’s been kind to me.’

  She knew her father evaluated her words. Watched her. Suspected she’d seen more of Everleigh than he knew.

  ‘Vivie.’ He shook his head. ‘No.’

  ‘So, he’s ice. I don’t need love. I have plenty of it from you and Mother.’

  His voice was a harsh whisper, so close she could smell the lemonade he’d been drinking. ‘He’ll ruin you. He’ll leave you. Don’t think to marry him. He won’t propose. But I should be thankful he won’t wed you—at least you’ll have an escape.’ He paused. ‘Where have you seen him and how has he fascinated you?’

  ‘Father, those are good questions. I have no answers to give you.’

  ‘There will be no more events like this. He will not be invited again to my house. A man is to pursue you. Not the other way around. I will not have it. You deserve all the fripperies of a romance.’

  He stalked away, the forced pleasantness he emitted not reaching far.

  Vivian joined the edge of a conversation held by women twice her age. They spoke of how to keep one’s cook abreast of new menus, comparing cookery books and meals they’d served their guests. She pretended interest and surreptitiously watched Everleigh.

  Even from across the room she saw the movement of his mouth, and remembered it touching hers. Surely she imagined...? No. Her body warmed. She imagined nothing. She’d noticed his strong legs when she first saw them and recognised the compassion when he’d carried Mavis.

  Even if she didn’t love him, even if he had no heart, the man had other assets. Assets she could see and she was sure she could enjoy completely if he’d a mind to show her how.

  But she might fall in love with him and that would be painful when he moved on to his own interests. Besides, she had been held prisoner by her illness for far too long. Even getting her mother to accept when Vivian left the house had taken promises of taking care, of not overtiring herself, of not staying away longer than planned, of not leaving sight of her companion. The rules had stifled her and almost made death seem like a release.

  She had escaped a gaol. She would waltz, but not right back into another walled world where someone else controlled the drawbridge.

  But Everleigh fascinated her. And the length of him, so still while he talked. A human animal of stored strength—power at rest.

  Her mind tried to commit him to a place in her imagination that she could retrieve at any time. She’d made the promise and she didn’t regret it. But her father had a point.

  Vivian blinked twice. She felt a hunger inside herself she didn’t know was possible or had existed. Everleigh bent his head. Something sparked, flint and steel in him, capable of lighting even more fire in her.

  His head jerked, as if a sound had caught his attention. An animal scenting a change. If she’d not been watching him closely, she would have missed the altering of his features. His expression didn’t falter—instead it locked into place. Darker. Something at the door had affected him.

  Gone was his affable nature. His kindness. She now knew why Ella Etta had said he had no heart. This man might not have tender feelings. The softness he showed her might have been actions learned so he could relate well to others. The innate charm of the surface could hide coldness deep within him.

  Her mother had once told her that a man’s heart worked differently from a woman’s. A man could speak tender sentiments, but they meant no more to him than singing the words to a pretty song. A man liked the sound of his own voice and the results. Then he could turn to a different companion, or a hand of cards, or a bottle of brandy, and sing the same song again. A man lived to sing, a woman to hear.

  Now Everleigh was staring at the doorway, even though he wasn’t facing it directly.

  Alexandria and her father stood at the entrance. Alexandria wore a pale yellow gown, simple, with gold bows at the tiny sleeves. She didn’t have the appearance of a princess, or a Roman goddess. Instead, she dressed to be the virginal sacrifice. A determined one.

  A man almost drowning in his own whiskers stepped up to talk with Alexandria’s father and, after a second, both men chuckled.

  But Alexandria was unaware of anything in the room, except Everleigh. She wasn’t smiling.

  Alexandria?

  He and Alexandria assessed each other, her scrutiny the one of a gladiator in the ring.

  She moved, slipping away from her father, walking around the edge of the dancers. She stopped in front of Everleigh. Vivian could only see her profile. Alexandria reached out her gloved hand and let it touch the sleeve of his coat. He stepped aside. She followed. This time, he didn’t increase the distance. Everleigh spoke, but his lips hardly moved. Alexandria’s head jerked closer to him so he bent forward. He gave a tight, negative shake of his head.

  When Alexandria raised her hand again his glare stopped her. Vivian couldn’t see his face well enough to read his expression. He spoke to Alexandria, words clipped, straightforward. Then Alexandria wove through the crowd, pretending not to see anyone, and searched out the wine.

  As Everleigh walked
away, a casual observer would have noticed nothing out of the ordinary, but Vivian saw the irritation. He spoke to an older man, laughed, and the man slapped Everleigh’s back, chuckling as well. They moved to the billiards room.

  The musicians increased the volume and she felt she had to escape. Too many people around her and she’d not completely regained her strength.

  Seeing Everleigh with Alexandria had taken the breath from her body.

  Alexandria.

  Vivian had not expected Everleigh to notice Alexandria so quickly. But he’d had anger in the tightness of his jaw.

  Chapter Seven

  Vivian stared at the wine in her glass and could not force her thoughts from Everleigh. She’d believed him finished with Miss Abernathy.

  A voice interrupted her thoughts, its bell-like tone ringing in her ears. Alexandria spoke. ‘Did you see where Everleigh vanished to?’

  Vivian flinched at the voice. She’d heard it so strident when Alexandria had shouted at Everleigh at his father’s house.

  Alexandria’s blonde hair, more perfect than anything her lady’s maid could ever create, was upswept and circled with a strand of pearls. She wasn’t frail of form, but something about her made her the kind of exquisiteness men wanted to save from raindrops. Brown lashes flicked gently and her red mouth needed nothing to brighten it.

  Vivian didn’t answer the question. ‘You’re lovely tonight, Alexandria. The dress is magnificent.’

  The blonde grasped the skirt lightly and gave a tiny twirl. ‘I ordered another in blue.’

  ‘I’m surprised you came,’ Vivian said, knowing she’d not put Alexandria’s name on the invitation list. ‘This is a gathering of my father’s architectural friends. Rather stuffy.’

  Alexandria laughed. ‘Then you must be glad I’m here so you’ll have someone to talk to. Your mother didn’t invite me. But when your father and mine were talking Father realised his friends would be here, so of course your father invited us, and of course I knew you would want someone to break the monotony. Although...’ she gave another twirl ‘...I’m not finding it as dull as I thought. Especially since Everleigh is here. He’s delectable.’ Alexandria linked her arm through Vivian’s.