Page 59 of The Siren of Sussex

She arranged her skirts, privately wishing she’d worn one of her new dresses. That she’d pinched her cheeks and used a pad to fill out her hair. Instead, she was as plainly clothed and coiffed as the first day she’d met him.

If he noticed, he gave no indication. He was looking at her face as intently as when he’d entered the room.

She folded her hands in her lap. “As I say, it’s a very beautiful dress. But I don’t know why you’ve brought it to me.”

“Because,” he said, “I wanted you to see what I’m capable of.”

Her smile came easier this time. “I hope I already know. One need only look at the habit you made for me to appreciate your talent.” Wearing it had been magical. Momentous. Indeed, up until the moment she’d laid eyes on Stephen Connaught, she’d almost imagined she was one of the Pretty Horsebreakers. “You should have seen me in the park today. I do believe every gentleman I passed stopped and stared. Your habit was a great success.”

“I did see you,” he said.

She gave him a startled look. “You were there?”

“I was. And you were . . .” He frowned, shaking his head.

Her smile froze on her lips. She instantly regretted her boast, however feeble. “What?”

“You were dazzling.”

Heat infiltrated her veins, making her cheeks warm and her heartbeat quicken.

Dazzling.

No one in the world had ever described her so. Certainly not a handsome gentleman—one for whom she was growing rather too fond. Compliments in her life were rare enough as it was. But to receive such a compliment from him . . .

There was no disguising the effect it had on her. No pretending she was some sophisticated beauty who had heard it all before.

She exhaled an unsteady breath. “Do you really think so?”

“It’s not a matter of opinion. You eclipsed every other lady in the park. I wouldn’t be surprised if they wrote about your triumph in tomorrow’s paper.”

She tilted forward in her seat, fixing him with a hopeful gaze. “You’re not just saying that?”

He looked steadily back at her. “I never just say things, Miss Maltravers.”

“No. I don’t suppose you do.” Her smile broadened to a ridiculous degree. She felt the urge to laugh. “It was your habit that did the trick, you know. Your habit and my riding.” She sank back in her chair. “Oh, but I do feel vindicated when things go according to plan! Would that all of life could be arranged so happily.”

“Perhaps it can.”

“Yes, well . . . it all depends on the eligible gentlemen I meet. Today wasn’t a success in that regard, I’m afraid.” In truth, Evelyn privately admitted to a distinct feeling of disappointment. The masculine prospects on display in Rotten Row had been nothing to make a young lady’s heart beat faster.

Rather the reverse.

They’d left her cold and vaguely despairing, wondering what her future would be like as the wife of a mean-faced lord or an army captain with a gaggle of unruly children.

“But it was only my first foray,” she said bracingly. “I shall go back again tomorrow and the day after that. There’s bound to be a likely candidate at some point. And with the new habits you’re designing for me—”

“What about the rest of your wardrobe?” Mr. Malik asked abruptly.

“What about it?”

“You do plan on attending evening entertainments?”

“Eventually.” She was certain to be invited somewhere.

“And you are going to a ball?”

“More than one, I trust, once my season is officially under way. As for what I shall wear, Lady Arundell has insisted that, tomorrow, I accompany her daughter to Madame Elise’s salon in Regent Street.”