“Evelyn, on the other hand, she is a fiend when it comes to the city,” Selina said, unprompted. “There is no one who relishes the art of architecture as much as my dear friend, and there is nothing she does not know about it either. When we walk together, I will often point at things, and she will tell me every detail of who built it, who designed it, what stone something is made from, what style. Then again, she is generally a fount of knowledge. You would be hard pressed to find something she does not know a great deal about.”
“LadyEvelyn?” Hugo frowned.
Selina nodded. “She is a spectacular shot, too. One year, we were in the country together, and a couple of my father’s friends were challenging each other. I insisted on Evie joining them… and she won! They did not speak to her for the rest of the week that they were there; they were so dismayed by their loss.”
He almost missed his next step, he was so astonished by what he had just heard. It did not sound like the Evelyn he had met at all.Yes, he had glimpsed a fiery streak within her, but the rest of the time, she was very prim and proper, quite withdrawn and quiet.
The more he thought about it, however, the more he could imagine her triumphing in a shooting competition, surprising everyone with her skill. They would not have seen her talent coming if they thought there was nothing more to her than the restrained, docile character she seemed to portray with everyone but him.
“Where did she learn such a skill?” he had to ask, his curiosity piqued.
Selina seemed to relax, clearly more comfortable talking about her friend than talking about herself. “That is just it; I do not know. She claims that her brothers did not teach her and her father did not teach her, so she must have taught herself. She does that a lot, too. A constant scholar. If she had her way, she would never be without a book in hand.”
“Yes, but one cannot teach oneself to shoot from a book,” Hugo pointed out, fascinated by the increasing mystery of Evelyn.
“But one can teach oneself with a rifle, as long as one is far enough away from anyone who might take issue with it,” Selina said, a knowing glimmer in her eyes.
Hugo was even less able to imagine Evelyn as a breaker of rules, a renegade who had taught herself how to shoot and shoot well.
“I think it is fair to say,” Selina continued, “that everything Evelyn knows, she has taught herself. I know that she rides reasonably well, she plays excellent pianoforte, and there is almost nothing she cannot fix. She is exceptional, though I fear she does not see it.”
As Selina continued to wax poetic about Evelyn, Hugo found thathisattention was beginning to wander, his gaze flitting toward the observers, trying to spot Evelyn in the crowd. Almost as if he needed to set eyes on her to make everything Selina had said true, to see her exceptional nature for himself, in case he had missed it before.
Unless Miss Parsons is toying with me?
He eyed her uncertainly, but Selina did not seem to be making things up. Indeed, she was still going, regaling him with a story of a carriage that had broken a wheel, and how Evelyn had come to the rescue with some hairpins and several sturdy ribbons.
Just then, he saw her. Evelyn.
She was standing close to the garden entrance with a pink-colored ice in her hand, and she was not alone in her refreshing indulgence. Rather, she seemed to be deep in conversation, laughing and smiling with a very familiar figure indeed.
All of a sudden, he could not wait for the dance to be over.
CHAPTER NINE
As the music faded to a close, Hugo gave a quick bow to Selina, hurrying her back to the care of her chaperone before he strode directly over to the garden entrance. He did not want to seem like a curmudgeon by beginning with a scolding, but Octavia really was not supposed to be outside where all the pollen would make her sneeze and cause her eyes to stream. Although he was more bewildered by the fact that his sister and Evelyn seemed to be having such a joyful time together.
“You have found me!” Octavia cheered, swallowing a mouthful of that same pinkish ice. “Now, I know you are going to want to chide me, but please do not do so until I have introduced you to my new friend.”
Hugo stared at Evelyn, who looked back with a stiff wariness, her freckle-dusted cheeks turning as pink as the ice that she was stirring around in the glass.
“This is Lady Evelyn Bartlett,” Octavia said proudly, oblivious to any awkwardness. “Evelyn, this is my brother Hugo, the Duke of Ravenvale. But do not feel like you need to call him ‘Your Grace'. I give you permission to be informal, now that we are friends.”
Evelyn’s eyes widened ever so slightly, her mouth parting. “Thisis your brother?”
“Of course.” Octavia grinned as she caught hold of Hugo’s arm. “Were you dancing, Hugo? Did we miss it? He is an excellent dancer, Evelyn.”
Hugo cleared his throat and hoped Evelyn could not see the same surprise reflected upon his face. “I just finished a dance with Miss Parsons.”
“Miss Parsons?” Octavia pulled a face. “I thought you had no interest in her?”
Pulling at his collar, which suddenly seemed too tight, Hugo put on a smile. “I am still getting to know her, Octavia. She is a dear friend of Evelyn here, in fact.”
“She is?” Octavia raised her eyebrows. “I had no notion. You must tell me everything about her, Evelyn, so I may decide if she is a suitable match for my brother.”
Evelyn dipped her head. “I would be happy to.”
“How is it that the two of you have become acquainted?” Hugo asked abruptly, for he could not have been dancing for more than five minutes. Ten, if he included the wait before the dance had begun.
