Regret. Embarrassment. Longing.
The thought of marrying Darling certainly hadn’t been distasteful. Her mind called up the memory of his towering strength, his low voice, which was oddly soothing, really. Then there was the way he looked at her, listened to her, touched her hand like she was some sort of precious, breakable treasure…
She swallowed thickly. No, the thought of marrying Darling was not distasteful at all.
My lord, I must refuse.
Very well, then.
She picked at a loose thread on her duvet as she continued her fierce standoff with the ceiling above.
Yes, anger was the easiest to define and the least depressing to consider. The only problem with anger was that she wasn’t entirely sure who she was most angry with. The earl for spitting out a proposal so haphazardly or herself for rejecting him so promptly.
Perhaps. Maybe. Let me think on that for a while. Here, now, when she wasn’t so shocked by his proposal, she could easily come up with at least three answers that would have prolonged the conversation rather than cut it short.
There was a soft knock at the door and then Cora appeared in the doorway. “Can I get you anything, miss?”
She forced a smile and sat upright with a sigh. “No, thank you, Cora.”
She waited for the other woman to leave so she might once again return to her stewing.
Cora did not leave. “I thought you might like to know that your brother has arrived—”
“Jacob has returned?” She was already off the bed and halfway to the door before Cora could reply.
At last! It seemed as though Jacob had been gone for ages, though it had merely been a fortnight. Close in age, they had always been the best of friends, but ever since her debacle with Mr. Stallworth, he had also become her best ally. Her only ally—
Until Darius.
She stumbled in her race toward the steps. Darius was merely her friend...assuming she hadn’t ruined things between them with her rejection. But no, of course she hadn’t. He hadn’t so much as blinked in the face of her refusal.
“Very well, then.” She muttered his words in an admittedly childish tone as she tried and failed to mimic his low bass.
“What was that, Evelyn?” Her brother’s voice reached her from the bottom of the steps and her gaze found him there, smiling up at her.
“Jacob, you’re home!” She threw herself into his arms when she reached the bottom of the staircase as though she were still a child.
She wished for one heartbeat that she could turn back the clock to a time when her world was less complicated, before Stallworth’s cruel trick…
Before she’d refused her very own knight in shining armor.
“What have I missed?” Jacob asked.
At the same time, she said, “Tell me about your travels.”
They both laughed, before Jacob gestured for her to lead the way to the sitting room where they might chat without fear of their father coming upon them.
Their father rarely left the confines of his study during the day, and when he did it was to eat in the dining room. He was a creature of habit, which made staying out of his way decidedly easy.
Once they were seated, she launched into her tale, though she amended her story about the night she ran away. Making it seem, instead, as though she had simply slipped outside for some air.
After all, if Darius’s plans to help her failed, she might still be forced to run away and it would not do to have Jacob aware of the scheme she’d hatched. At best he would lecture her, at worst he would try and stop her.
Neither was ideal. And so she told one tiny untruth, but held nothing back with the rest of the story.
Jacob was staring at her with wide eyes and a slack jaw by the time she finished.
“Do you mean to say…” He stopped to scrub a hand over his face. “The Earl of Darling asked for your hand?”
She nodded.
“And you said no,” he confirmed.
She winced. “Indeed.”
He misread her look of regret, it seemed, for he reached a hand out for hers. “You did the right thing, Evelyn.”
She nibbled on her lower lip. To be honest, that was what she’d hoped he would tell her. But now that he’d said it...it did not sit well. “Do you think so?”
He frowned. “Of course. Have you heard the rumors about that man? They say he’s a veritable beast.” He arched his brows and lowered his voice. “I’ve even heard the word ‘murderer’ bandied about.”
She scoffed. “Jacob, you know better than anyone that gossip is more often than not just idle nonsense and dramatic exaggerations.”
He gave a short laugh. “Even so, the man hardly has a decent reputation.” The look he gave her was sympathetic, bordering horribly on pitying. “Even if he is a better option than Stallworth—”
“He is.” The words tumbled out before she could stop them. But really, there was no comparison in her mind.
“Even so,” he said again. “Father would never approve of you tossing over your current fiancé for a man with such a ghastly reputation.”
“It wouldn’t look good,” she agreed hesitantly. And with their father, appearances mattered more than anything.
Jacob nodded, his gaze searching. “That was why you refused him, I take it.”
She couldn’t quite meet his gaze. Mainly because she couldn’t quite answer the question that laced his comment.
Why had she refused?
She looked down at the ground with pursed lips.
“Evelyn,” Jacob said slowly, his tone the sort one would typically use with a stubborn child. “You know you did right, do you not? However decent this Darling fellow might have been while I was away, a close acquaintance with him and his family would only add to the scandalous gossip—”
“I know all that,” she snapped. Her tone was rather like that of a stubborn child. She shot him a sidelong look. “Sorry.”
He gave her a small smile in return. “Then why do I get the sense that you are not quite confident in your refusal?”
She looked at her brother for a long moment. For the first time ever, she wished that he didn’t know her as well as he did. For that was the question she’d been successfully avoiding these past few days.
Logically, she knew her father would not approve. But if she were being truly honest with herself, her father and his opinion hadn’t even entered her thoughts. At least, not in that moment when his words had hit her with the full force of a blow to the chest.
Or rather...a blow to her pride.
She swallowed thickly now under Jacob’s scrutiny. Sitting here, with her truest friend, it was impossible to lie. To him or to herself. “I said no because...because…” She looked up to meet his gaze. “Because he’d only asked me out of charity.”
Her brother’s brows hitched up in surprise. “Pardon me?”
She shrugged, feeling utterly ridiculous now that she’d said it aloud. Who was she to be so choosy? Yes, perhaps it would have been nicer if Darling had used pretty words in his quickly uttered speech, but she wasn’t exactly in a position to demand them.
“You said no because you felt he only offered out of pity, is that it?” her brother asked.
To his credit, Jacob’s tone didn’t chide her nor mock her, as he no doubt should. She kicked at the carpet with her slippered feet. She’d acted no better than a spoiled child. Wanting a different fiancé but then being picky about how he asked and why.
She let out a huff of disgust at her ridiculous pride. “I suppose I thought…” She bit her lip. “It was just that Darling made it sound so...reasonable.” She uttered the word “reasonable” as though it were an insult. Which, in this case, it was. “He acted like it was a business proposition. And that…” She sighed, unable to finish because she knew just how ridiculous it would sound.
That had made her heart feel like it was breaking in her chest.
Jacob’s eyes were on her, his gaze intent. She fidgeted uncomfor
tably as she strove for a more casual demeanor. “I suppose even a business proposition would be better than this sham of an engagement with Stallworth.”
Jacob didn’t respond. They both knew she was right. Just about any man of their acquaintance would make a better husband than the knave who’d soiled her good name and tarnished her reputation. And all for her dowry.
But even knowing all this, the way Darius had asked for her hand had smarted. As if it was a duty, a favor. A charitable act.
The thought of going from an engagement that she did not want and into another engagement that he did not want…
She’d said no before she could truly think about her alternatives. Of which there were none. She turned her attention back to her brother. “What must he think?”
Jacob sighed. “Darling likely assumes that you’d heard the rumors. If he has any sense at all, he must understand why you wouldn’t wish to attach yourself to his tainted name.”
She winced at the thought. Guilt now far outweighed all those other emotions. She couldn’t let him believe that she thought he was not good enough. No woman in her right mind would believe those awful rumors if she were to share a moment alone with Darius.
He’d been the picture of brotherly love with Tabetha. In fact, their relationship, well, it closely mirrored the one she had with her brother. And with herself?
No beast or murderer could ever show such kindness and consideration. She shivered at the memory of his eyes, so cold with rage on her behalf but so warm and tender when he was talking to her.
I find you very charming as well.
She dipped her head as warmth spread into her cheeks at the memory of those words. For a moment there she’d thought...she’d dreamt…
Oh, what did it matter? What was done was done.
All that mattered now was making sure she had not hurt his feelings. For, notorious beast or no, she knew that he was kind. Not at all unfeeling or untouched by words or gossip.
She would apologize. After days of agonizing over what she would say or do when she next saw Darius, the answer was clear, and she could hardly wait to speak with him. She couldn’t let another moment go by in which he thought the worst of her.
She got up from the settee so quickly that Jacob blinked up at her in surprise. “Don’t you want to hear about what I’ve been up to on my travels?”
She was already rushing toward the door as she answered. “Of course! But it will have to wait, I’m afraid.” She turned back to him with the first real smile in days. “We must get ready. Darling will be at the dinner party tonight, and I must speak with him.”
Jacob opened his mouth as if he might protest. He stopped short, his gaze taking in her face, her hand hovering over the doorknob as she practically vibrated with excitement.
Because she would get closure, that was all. Because she would have a chance to make amends. Not because she was due to see Darling in a matter of hours.
Certainly not.
Chapter Six
Darius stood by the wall near a potted fern as Tabetha chatted with two other ladies she’d met recently. He was happy for her and this was why they’d come, but he’d retreated the moment the subject had turned to ribbons. Most currently, the exact shade of white one might choose to match a lady’s gown at her first ball of the season.
The conversation was dratted awful, but with no one else to converse with, he’d backed himself against the wall like a wallflower.
Was he attempting to hide behind a potted plant? Yes.
Given his sheer size was that notion ridiculous? Also yes.
But he didn’t want a repeat of what had happened four nights prior at the Rathmores’ home. He didn’t wish to hear the rumors about himself the other guests were surely whispering, he certainly didn’t want to storm out, and he most definitely didn’t fancy another run-in with Miss Evelyn Rathmore.
His gut clenched at the thought of the stunning brunette. Her kindness with his sister, the way she looked so lost and vulnerable whenever she mentioned Stallworth, and of course, the stricken look on her face when she’d turned down his proposal all flitted through his mind.
He didn’t blame her.
He was a beastly murderer, according to anyone who was anyone. Why would a woman wish to tie herself to that?
But he’d hoped…
Well, foolishly, he’d hoped she’d see past that.
In her defense, she’d only met him on two occasions and, if he were honest, even he wasn’t certain the whispers weren’t true.
He knew that he wasn’t the man to bury the knife into his cousin. But that didn’t exonerate him from guilt. Just as he understood that he wasn’t built for this world. His temper, his need to charge in and right the wrongs, that wasn’t how London operated. More often than not, he appeared to be the angry oaf they claimed.
He sighed, scrubbing his neck.
He couldn’t very well end his relationship with Evelyn either. Because she’d been good for Tabetha. He let out another growl of frustration. And she needed help. Hurt as he was, he wasn’t the sort of man who left a woman to face such a future alone.
A noise on the other side of the plant caught his notice. It was somewhere between a gasp and a giggle. Apparently the fern hid his position far better than he’d assumed.
Carefully parting the green foliage, he spied a couple locked in an embrace that was completely scandalous for any event, but especially for such an intimate gathering, it was downright folly.
“I’ve missed you, my sweet,” the man murmured, his lips on the woman’s neck.
Darius let the branch go, distaste filling his mouth. “Where have you been?” Came her simpering reply. “My husband’s been gone for over a fortnight and you’ve yet to pay me a visit.”
Darius had all he could do not to snort with derision as he made to move away.
“I’m sorry, love. I had a short trip to France and then my fiancée…”
The woman clucked her tongue just as Darius slipped from his place and back into the crowd, his hands clenched into fists, but their words still found his ear.
“The mousy little Evelyn,” she replied, her voice dripping with snide disdain.
He froze. It couldn’t be his Evelyn they were discussing. Then he winced. When had he begun to think of her as his Evelyn?
He hadn’t the right.
She’d rejected his proposal. Clearly and emphatically.
The man hidden in the corner let out a groan of disgust. “I know. But we must all bear the matches that provide the most advantage, no matter how distasteful they are. Trust me, love. I would never feel about Evelyn Rathmore the way I feel about you…”
Darius stopped listening as red-hot rage coursed through him. This was Stallworth. Not only was he acting in a completely tawdry manner, but he dared to insult Evelyn as he did so. The man deserved to be beaten into a pulp. His hands clenched into tight fists, his nails digging into his palms.
Normally in these situations, he’d consider what Tabetha would want him to do. But his sister’s voice was the furthest thing from his thoughts.
For a moment he considered hauling the man from behind the plant and calling him out right here at that party.
Beast...murderer. His fist thumped against the side of his leg. He’d prove every rumor true if he acted in such a way.
And the insidious masses would be fed with more tinder to place on the fire that was his reputation.
Then a slight grin parted his lips. Well, it was more of a scheming leer, really. Because with startling clarity he knew exactly how a member of the peerage would handle such a situation.
Like everything about him, his feet were large, perfectly made if a man wanted to, say...knock over a potted fern.
He took a graceful step back, trying his best to make it look gangly and awkward, and then kicked the pot with his left boot.
It was heavy, far heavier than one might imagine, but he was built like an ox and the plant swayed back and forth and then
back again until it came crashing down. Stallworth and the woman, whoever she was, covered in fern branches.
He heard her shriek of surprise and Stallworth’s cry of protest as the entire party turned to see what had caused such a disruption. But he’d already taken two giant steps away from the plant and whistled as he looked on with mock surprise.
Perhaps he’d learn the ways of society after all.
Stallworth and the woman untangled themselves from the plant in the most awkward and comical display he’d seen in a long time. They even beat him in social dysfunction, and it was all he could not to roar with satisfaction.
Everyone in the room would surely know what Stallworth had been up to behind that plant.
Absolutely everyone. And that included Miss Evelyn Rathmore.
Evelyn, who stood on the other side of the room next to a man who could only assume to be her brother. They looked startlingly alike. Her eyes were wide as saucers and her mouth pressed into a thin line that even from this distance, he could see was trembling.
He closed his eyes for a second, regret lancing through him. He hadn’t meant to hurt her. Despite her rejection, he cared deeply and…
Blast. When had he begun to care deeply?
But he didn’t bother to watch the rest of the scene as he charged across the room to join Evelyn. The look on her face told him everything he needed to know.
Their gazes locked and he watched her draw in a deep breath, saw her lip cease to tremble. She straightened her spine and her chin notched up. Good job, he thought inwardly as outwardly he gave her a smile of encouragement.
He stepped up to her other side, his brows drawing together in concern. “Miss Rathmore,” he said quietly as most of the guests continued to stare at the scene still unfolding across the room. “Are you all right?”
But before he could answer, her brother spoke. “My lord, a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
He looked at her brother, a question in his mind and surely on his face, but the other man rewarded him with a large smile.
“And you as well,” he answered. Thanks to Evelyn’s lesson yesterday, he knew he held the higher rank, and it was the baron’s job to greet him and not the other way around.
Earl of Darling (Wicked Earls' Club) Page 4