THE TREVORS: BOOKS I - IV

by Quinn, Ella

Euphrosyne almost groaned. “What if Father refuses him?”

  Her sister-in-law stared at her for a few moments. “In that event, you will both have to decide if you will defy the duke.”

  “As my brothers did.” The euphoria she’d been feeling fled. Defy Father. Was it as easy as that? Merely a decision to be made? Or was it much more difficult? Yet it wasn’t her choice alone. Markville would have to wish to marry her without her father’s blessing. Perhaps without a dowry. “Thank you. You have given me much to consider.”

  “Don’t be too concerned yet. Your father might decide in his favor. After all, Markville is extremely eligible.”

  That made her feel better. “Yes, he is, isn’t he?”

  Meg nodded.

  “I had better be going. I left word I would be here without actually asking if I could come.”

  Rising, Meg said, “Let me know if you wish to speak with me again.” She came around the table and took Euphrosyne’s hands. “I am always here for you.”

  “Thank you.” Despite Markville’s eligibility, she could not be easy. Euphrosyne had never yet won a battle with her father. On the other hand, she had never fought a battle this important.

  Chapter 6

  After searching the house, Markville finally found his sister on the terrace. “I must speak with you.”

  “What is it?” Sarah set aside the book she was reading. “You do not look like yourself. Are you all right?”

  “Yes. No.” He’d never cared, never loved a woman before Euphrosyne. And he was much more nervous than he thought he would be. “It’s just that I have decided to propose to Euphrosyne, and I need your help.”

  “My help to propose?” Sarah’s brows rose, and she looked as if she thought he was insane.

  “I’d like you to ask her to come here.” He didn’t dare do it at her house. They would never be allowed to be alone, and he did not yet have her father’s permission. Perhaps he was uneasy because he knew he should obtain that first. He’d never done anything so precipitant.

  “I hope you know what you’re about.” No matter her skepticism, she went to the desk, scratched something on a piece of paper, sealed it, and called for a footman.

  “What does that mean? I thought you liked her.” After all he and his sister had been through this year, he did not want another rift between them. Nevertheless, he would marry Euphrosyne—if she’d have him—regardless of Sarah’s wishes.

  “Oh, Markville.” She hugged him tightly. “I think she is perfect for you. I am just thinking about her father.”

  As was Markville. First, he would make sure of Euphrosyne’s feelings for him, then he’d deal with the duke. “When did you ask her to come?”

  “As soon as she is able.” Sarah frowned. “It is not like you to flout propriety.”

  “No.” And if it were any other man but Somerset, Markville wouldn’t ignore what he could only think of as a sense of decency. “But I have a strong feeling this is what I must do.”

  “Very well.” She hugged him again. “I wish you luck. Although, I do not think you’ll need it with Euphrosyne.”

  Several minutes later the same footman brought back a response. Sarah opened it. “She will be here within the next half hour.”

  “That will have to be good enough.” He wanted a brandy, but this was not the time to start drinking. He must remain sober.

  Markville posted himself in the back parlor and paced. His sister had promised to bring Euphrosyne to him as soon as she arrived, and he’d heard sounds from the front of the house. She had arrived at least two minutes ago. What was taking them so long?

  Suddenly the door opened and Sarah stepped in with Euphrosyne. “I believe my brother has something he wishes to say to you.”

  Euphrosyne started at him, uncertainty clouding her beautiful blue eyes.

  Not wanting to alarm her further, he stepped quickly to her, took her hands, and searched her face. He was as sure as he could be of her feelings toward him, but what if he was wrong? “Euphrosyne, my love.”

  “Markville.” She gazed at him, her gaze earnestly meeting his. “Do you truly love me?”

  “God, yes.” He took her in his arms, holding her tightly against him.

  “I’m very glad.” She snuggled into him. “Because I love you too, but I’ve been too afraid to be the first one to say it.”

  “Never be afraid again.” He closed the distance between their lips. She’d never been kissed before, and he wanted her to enjoy it. He planned to spend a great deal of time kissing her. Lightly, he brushed his mouth across hers, feathering the corners of her pink lips, caressing her long slender neck with his thumbs, before fitting his lips to hers.

  The kiss was sweet, innocent, something he’d never experienced before. How lucky he was that he’d found her. She slid her arms over his shoulders, and he began to burn with need. He’d never wanted a woman as much as he did her. When she opened her mouth on a sigh, he slid his tongue in, exploring and begging her to play. Her tongue tangled with his, and, despite her innocence she matched him step for step. Just as she would do in their marriage.

  He drew back, just enough to break the kiss.

  Her fine, dark-blonde brows signaled her confusion.

  “I have a question I must ask before we continue.” He took a breath. “Will you marry me? I find I cannot think of my life without you in it. I haven’t approached your father yet, but I will.”

  Her happy face convinced him he was in heaven. “Yes, yes, I’ll marry you! I don’t care what he says. I cannot image being with anyone but you.”

  Euphrosyne pulled Markville’s head down, kissing him again. God, he was going to love being married to her.

  His hands roamed over her body, unable to touch her enough. He wanted to mark her as his, to make sure she knew she belonged to him as he belonged to her. Tilting his head, he deepened their kiss. When his hand caresses her derrière, she slipped one hand down and stroked his. Their breath became ragged, and once again, he stopped.

  “If we keep this up, I’ll take you here and now. You deserve better than that.” If only they could be wed soon. He raked a hand through his hair. “I must write your father. Or perhaps I should visit him.”

  She shook her head. “He is touring the estates. What if he says no?”

  His chest tightened. It was entirely possible her father would refuse his offer. He hoped what she had said before was the truth. She would marry him with or without her father’s permission. It might come to that.

  “We’ll find a way.” He held her closer, breathing in her lavender scent, now mixed with musk. “But as much as I expect you have reason for concern, I must give him a chance to accept or refuse me.” Markville would write the duke today, but now that he had found her, no one would take her away from him.

  Markville held Euphrosyne close to him as if he’d never let her go. Her love for him expanded so much she thought her heart would burst with bliss. This was the happiest day of her life in a lifetime that would be full of love and joy. If only they did not have to involve her father. If only Markville were a little less honorable. Yet, would she love him as much if he were not? She wished she could say something trite like of course my father will accept your offer, but she knew the duke would do what he wanted. Even if any other father would be delighted to accept an offer from Markville, her father might not.

  He pressed soft kisses on her neck. “If only we could tell the world that we are betrothed, I would claim every one of your dances this evening.”

  That would be lovely. “Even if another gentleman asks me and I must accept, I will not enjoy the dance nearly as much as if it were you.” A light scratching came on the door. “Is it safe to come in?”

  She grinned at her betrothed. “I suppose Sarah will have to be told.”

  “I suppose she will. At least I know she’ll keep it to herself.” He pulled a face. “Well, she’ll probably tell Jeremy.”

  Euphrosyne wanted to tell her sister, but should
she? “We can tell Meg and Hawksworth. They might be able to help us.”

  “Yes.” Markville slowly nodded. “We should do that, and soon.”

  “After the ball.” There was no time before then.

  “Are you still in there?” Sarah’s exasperated voice came from the other side of the door.

  Trying not to laugh, Euphrosyne touched her forehead to Markville’s broad chest. “You must answer her.”

  He kissed the top of her head, before saying, “Come.”

  As the door opened, she turned to greet her soon-to-be sister. “You may be the first to wish us happy.”

  Flying forward, Sarah embraced Euphrosyne and Markville. “I am so very happy for you! I had begun to despair of my brother finding a lady he could love.” Stepping back, Sarah glanced from Euphrosyne to Markville. “But what of the duke? Shall we fly to Gretna Green? Jeremy and I will chaperone you.”

  “No.” Markville squeezed his sister’s shoulder. “I shall write him today.”

  Sarah gave them a dubious look, prompting Euphrosyne to say, “If he refuses, we shall accept your offer.”

  “Very well.” Sarah hugged them again. “Euphrosyne, a footman came with a message that you are to return home to go shopping for the things you and your sister need before this evening.”

  She glanced at a clock on the fireplace mantle. “Oh, my goodness. I did not realize the time.” Standing on her tiptoes she touched her lips to Markville’s. “I shall see you this evening.”

  “Until then, my love.” Drawing her into his arms again, he kissed her firmly. “I’ll walk you home.”

  “Do you think that is wise?” She never knew what her father might hear from the staff. Although he would know soon enough that she and Markville wished to wed.

  “I think it will be fine.” He tucked her hand into the crook of his arm.

  The rest of the day passed at a snail’s pace. Even shopping seemed to drag on. Finally, it was time to dress for the ball. When Turner finished, Euphrosyne stared in the mirror, amazed. The pink and white ball gown had seemed almost childish when she had seen the drawing, and she had not looked in a mirror during the fittings, but the gown was anything but a child’s. Seed pearls interspersed with brilliants adorned the sleeves and the neckline, which was much lower than she’d remembered. Her maid had threaded a strand of pearls and pink quartz in Euphrosyne’s hair. She wore earrings and a pink quartz pendant set in platinum around her neck, gifts from her mother. “I look like a princess.”

  “You certainly do, my lady.” Turner smiled.

  “I’m going to see how my sister is doing. I’ll come back after dinner for my things.” She reached Laia’s room and opened the door without knocking. “Laia, look at me! Ooooh, look at you!”

  “I do think I look well, and you look lovely.” Laia smiled.

  “You’re beautiful.” Euphrosyne carefully bussed her sister’s cheek. “All the gentlemen will want to dance with you.” Especially, Mr. Paulet, she hoped. Her sister deserved more than an old duke.

  “Do you think we will be sitting along the sides of the room?” Laia’s worried eyes met Euphrosyne’s.

  Afraid that her sister would discover her secret, Euphrosyne lowered her lashes. “No. I think our family will ensure we have partners for every dance.”

  Thankfully, before Laia could ask any unwanted questions, Meg strolled into the room carrying two small posies in filigree silver holders, one with yellow flowers and the other with pale pink roses. “I do not know why gentlemen insist on sending flowers to be carried to an event. Although, I suppose you could take them out and put some of the flowers in your hair, if you like.”

  Gentlemen? “Which gentlemen?” Laia asked, frowning at the flowers.

  “Lord Markville”—Meg handed the pink bouquet to Euphrosyne—“and Mr. Paulet.” Meg gave the other one to Laia. “I must say they were either amazingly percipient or they went out of their way to discover what you were wearing.”

  Laia clutched her flowers to her breast as if someone might take them from her. “I could not ruin the arrangement.”

  “Nor could I.” Euphrosyne could not believe Markville had not let on at all that he was sending her flowers. How wonderful of him to have discovered the color of her gown. She would simply have to find a place to put them when she was dancing. “We had better go down to dinner.”

  The choices were light. White soup, roasted chicken instead of one with a sauce, fresh haricot vert with a light butter and lemon sauce, small boiled potatoes, salad, and poached fish. She managed to do justice to the meal despite the butterflies that had taken up residence in her stomach.

  “It is a pity there are no waltzes.” Hawksworth cast Meg a sultry look.

  Euphrosyne realized Markville had looked at her exactly the same way earlier. How were they going to hide their feelings for each other? Or would they be able to?

  “We are acting as chaperones this evening, my love,” Meg responded. “We should not dance in any case.”

  “Very true.” One of Hawksworth’s brows rose. “I cannot possibly perform a minuet and watch over my sisters at the same time.”

  Euphrosyne harrumphed. If any man attempted to take advantage, Markville would protect her.

  “There is also a matter of looking after the items they cannot have with them when they are dancing.” As Mama had not joined them, Meg rose, signaling for the rest of them to do so as well. “Tea will be served in the drawing room in a few minutes.” She glanced at Laia and Euphrosyne. “You should fetch your things.”

  They rose from the table. Laia and Euphrosyne went upstairs to collect their gloves, fans, reticules, and posies.

  “Are you nervous?” Euphrosyne asked as they ascended the stairs. She had been, but the more she considered the evening, the less anxious she became.

  “A little, but only because I do not want to make a mistake.” Laia’s sister embraced her.

  “There is nothing to worry about. We will both have a wonderful time.”

  Euphrosyne’s thoughts were filled with dancing with Markville. Even if there were no waltzes, it would be wonderful.

  “Yes, we will.”

  After tea, they walked down the front steps, and Euphrosyne could not help but admire the elegance of the sedan chairs. They were much more stylish than the ones she had seen elsewhere around town. The paint was unblemished, and they appeared to have been fitted out inside in velvet. They were so tall she could have worn a turban with feathers and not been concerned about them being harmed.

  Looking more handsome than ever in breeches and a dark blue jacket set off by a snowy white cravat, Markville stepped out from the other side of one of the chairs. “Allow me to assist you into your chair, my lady.”

  “It would be my pleasure.” She placed her hand on his arm, feeling the strength in it. If anyone could convince her father to allow their marriage, he could. The light caught his waistcoat, causing her to admire the small pink flowers on vines. “I like your waistcoat.”

  “I hoped you would,” he said in a low voice. “Even if we cannot make our betrothal known, I wished to do something to show that we belong together.”

  She, too, wished they could tell everyone of their engagement. “You do not like keeping this secret, do you?”

  “No.” His jaw tightened, and his mouth set into a thin line. “There is something about it that is not honorable.” They had reached the chair, and he brought her fingers to his lips. “I sent the letter today. Still, I shall feel better when I speak with your brother.”

  She would feel better when they were married. “I would like to be present when you see Hawksworth.”

  “If he allows it, then I agree.” Markville’s palm cupped her cheek. “I am at a disadvantage.”

  “You are not.” Hawksworth would understand. She was sure of it. “When would you like to marry?”

  “Soon.” Markville gave her a passionate look, and she wanted him to take her in his arms. “I would also like you to ca
ll me Charles. No one else does.”

  “Charles.” She tested the name, enunciating as she said it. “It suits you. But if I am to call you by your first name, you should call me by mine.”

  “Gladly. It is one of the most beautiful names I have heard.”

  The chairs were carried into a large room and set down. Charles helped her out, and she saw that Mr. Paulet had escorted Laia.

  After shaking out her skirt, she asked, “How did you enjoy the ride?”

  “Very well, indeed.” Particularly the talk of marriage, even it was short. “I enjoyed the conversation even more.” But not as much as she would enjoy dancing with Charles.

  “Shall we go up?” He held out his arm.

  “Of course.” She placed her hand on his sleeve, and they followed her brother and sister-in-law up the stairs. As they entered the ballroom, his arm tightened. “Is anything wrong?”

  Giving his head an imperceptible shake, he smiled at her. “It just occurred to me that I do not want you to stand up with anyone but me, and you must.”

  Nor did she wish to dance with another man. “Perhaps no one else will ask me.”

  “I would not wish that for you, my love. This is your first ball and you should enjoy it. We shall have the rest of our lives to dance together. Tonight it will have to be enough that I have your first set and the supper dance.”

  And that was one of the reasons Euphrosyne loved him. Even if he wasn’t happy about the situation, he wanted her to enjoy herself. “I shall make sure to have fun. Your sacrifice should not be in vain.”

  “Minx.” His eyes twinkled with laughter. “You’ll break hearts tonight.”

  But never his heart.

  Chapter 7

  The minuet was the most unsatisfying Markville had ever danced. He didn’t like being separated from Euphrosyne, and caught himself scowling at every man who touched her hand. The worst part of it was that he knew the feeling probably wouldn’t go away after they married. For the first time he understood why Hawksworth tried to keep all his wife’s dances for himself.