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Chapter Eight
Evelina was the sort of person who gathered her energy from moments of solitude. She loved people in the general sense, and there were those she loved specifically, such as her parents and Diana.
There were also some people who could drain all of her stores of energy within a manner of minutes.
Jerome, she had found, was one of those people.
“Well?” he asked, when they had finished their second dance together at the Almack's ball.
“Well…?”
“Well, what did you think?” Jerome puffed himself up proudly. “Did I not tell you I was quite accomplished at the waltz?”
Evelina smiled thinly. “Quite accomplished indeed, My Lord.” She did not feel the need to bring up the two times he had trod on her foot.
Thankfully, their relationship was still new enough that it would have been preposterous to consider dancing together more than twice, which would have signaled intent toward an engagement to the rest of theton. She managed to take her leave of Jerome with grace.
Matilda was waiting for her at the side of the ballroom. “My Lady, may I say, you looked quite fetching as you danced. None save perhaps your sister could match the grace with which you carried yourself.”
Evelina, still a little out of breath, glanced back at the dancers. The next song had already begun, and a handsome young gentleman with auburn hair and a kind face had asked Diana for a dance. She looked the picture of gaiety as she spun to and fro in the beautiful gown they had spent so many days pursuing. “She does look rather gorgeous, doesn’t she?”
“The both of you do,” said Matilda.
Their exchange dwindled to a halt. Evelina and Matilda were friends, to an extent, but there had always been a bit of a stiffness between them. Evelina would have liked to have spoken to Matilda more casually, but since the days of their girlhood, Matilda seemed to have become more conscious of the divide between their classes.
Usually, Evelina would have made more of an effort to keep the conversation going, but Jerome truly had worn her down. “Matilda, would you mind fetching us some refreshments?”
“Of course, My Lady. I’ll return momentarily.”
As soon as Evelina was certain Matilda was far enough away and that Mother, who stood with a group of her same-aged peers across the room, had her attention focused solely on Diana, she slipped away.
I’ll just take a few moments by myself. This time I will return before Matilda even realizes I have gone.
Evelina squeezed her way down the hall and out the back door into the gardens. Lanterns hung overhead, and little candles wavered in the light breeze, freshened by the foliage. It was a relief to take in the sweet air, away from the crowded space of the ballroom.
A few other members of the ton were out here, but not many. Even so, Evelina could hear voices coming through the door that led back to the ballroom. She didn’t want anyone to follow her out here who might want to wrap her into another conversation.
It was perhaps a risky move as far as propriety was concerned, but again, Evelina did not intend to stay long.
She allowed herself to walk further, alone, into the gardens.
Or she began to, anyway, when a low, warm voice called after her. “My Lady. Please, wait.”
Over the course of the past week Evelina had languished in the memory of that same voice. Its deep, musical tones. The richness of its pitch. It was the sort of voice that promised security without the sacrifice of intrigue. Evelina could get lost listening to that voice forever—it could shape any words, any words at all, from the grandest of poetry to the simplest of greetings, and she would have heard them as though spoken by an angel.
“Oh,” she said, hardly daring to turn around, “it’s you.”
The gentleman who had spoken came around to stand in front of Evelina. “I should say the same. I was so fearful after we parted ways at Vauxhall Gardens that I would never see you again.”
The mystery man was just as Evelina remembered him—broad shouldered with ash-blond hair and the kindest honey eyes. He looked both buoyant and relieved to see their paths had crossed once more.
Evelina felt a thrill go through her at the realization that she had not been the only one so swept away by their previous interaction.
“I have felt the exact same way,” Evelina heard herself say. She stepped forward, drawn by the memory of his hands on her waist, the feel of his body against hers.
The gentleman’s breath hitched. He glanced down at her lips, briefly, then back up at her eyes. He seemed conflicted.
“I…I know we have not yet been officially introduced by the appropriate parties,” he said. “But I am Thomas Russell, the Duke of Elvington. Please, My Lady. Do me the great honor of sharing your name.”
