A bitter wind swept the balcony, pulling at her cloak and causing her to shiver.
“I always seem to keep you outside and freezing,” Evan announced, stepping away from her so she could at least catch her breath without the dizzying desire to press herself against him again.
“I’m sure that Grandmama has plenty for me to do,” she said, stepping around him and preparing to make a swift getaway. “I’ll just go and –“
Before she could think of an excuse, he reached out and grabbed her hand as she passed.
Holly slowly raised her eyes to his, unsurprised by the fluttering of her poor, overworked heart as she spied some deep, intense emotion in his gaze.
“I want to talk to you,” he said quietly. Simply. “Is there somewhere we can go?”
Holly thought for a moment.
The house was overrun with servants, with extra help having been hired from the village.
All the rooms had been cleaned and prepared. Her father was likely hiding in either his study or the library, and the bedchambers were naturally out of the question.
She should just say no and leave; she knew that.
But the prospect of time alone with him was too temping to pass up.
And then it dawned on her.
Taking her courage in both hands, she nodded.
“I know somewhere,” she said softly. “Follow me.”
CHAPTER11
Holly stolea candelabra from one of the hall tables, instructing Evan to do the same as they walked swiftly through the house.
It had been so long since she’d come here.
At first, it had been too painful and then as the years had gone by, as the servants had kept it pristine under her instructions, the essence of her mother had seemed to fade until it became just another room.
Yet, she’d never allowed them to change a thing.
Mama’s chair was still the same as ever, as was Holly’s beside it. The pretty pink window dressings, the floral cushions upon the chaise in the corner – it was all the same.
She stepped into the room before him then when he’d followed her and rather scandalously closed the door behind him, it felt like they were the only two people in the world.
Evan walked around the small sitting room, taking it all in.
He set his candle on the fireplace mantel then turned to Holly.
The room was filled with darkness and shadows as they faced each other across it.
The flickering flames of the candles danced across his face as he watched her. And even in the poor light they provided, she saw the glittering intensity in his eyes.
“This room – it was my mother’s favourite,” she croaked, more to break the nerve-wracking silence than anything else. “We used to spend hours in here, decorating for Christmas or practising etiquette.”
She smiled wistfully and moved to the rosewood table between the two armchairs. Placing her candelabra on the shiny surface, she ran a hand over it while sitting in her chair.
“I learned to pour tea at this table,” she laughed.
“You miss her.”
It wasn’t a question, but she nodded anyway.