Page 30 of A Caribbean Heiress in Paris
“But he’s coming over here,” Aurora exclaimed as Luz escaped.
“That’s not the effect one wants to have on his future bride,” Murdoch commented unhelpfully, while Evan considered what to do about the murderous look Luz Alana had shot his way before disappearing into the crowd.
“Is that your rum heiress?” Adalyn asked, gaze fixed on Luz Alana’s retreating form.
“She’s notmine,” he protested, still tracking her as she moved around the room.
“Are your eyes aware of that fact? Because they were ready to pop out of your skull the moment they descended on her.”
Murdoch snorted, while Evan continued to ignore his sister’s taunts. “She’s exquisite, Evan. Not everyone can wear saffron, but she looks absolutely majestic.”
“She does.” That he could not deny. She was the most beautiful woman in the room. Her dress, as the one she’d worn at Le Bureau, displayed every one of her many attributes to perfection. He’d noticed that she did not favor the elaborate ruffles and cascading tulle so many of the society ladies wore. Luz Alana’s style was more understated. Embroidery, perhaps a bit of embellishment on the hems and sleeves, but not much more. It was in the colors that she did not hold back: a tropical, fiery flower among a sea of wan pastels.
“I’m going to go look for her,” he said impatiently.
“Excellent,” piped Adalyn with a clap of her hands. “What shall we do? What is the plan?”
Murdoch, that sod, guffawed at Addie’s enthusiasm as if they were about to pull off a caper.
“Yourplan should involve enjoying yourself with Murdoch this evening. I will go speak with Miss Heith-Benzan.” Just then he found her on the edge of the ballroom. She was speaking—or at least attempting to—with a man, and in her hand she had a small card which she was trying to hand him, but instead of taking it, he turned his back on her and walked away. Fury filled Evan as he watched her face crumble.
“That bastard,” Evan growled, itching for a fight.
“Oh no! How rude,” Adalyn gasped behind him.
“Excuse me,” he said, already walking toward Luz Alana, who had left the little piece of paper on the floor of the ballroom and gone to hide behind the fronds of a stunningly large plant. Whoever that heel was, he would find him and make him kiss her fucking feet. He picked up the paper and saw that it was her business card. He recognized the embossed seal from her rum bottles, and below it was her name and title.
Caña Brava Rum & Spirits
Luz Alana Heith-Benzan
Distiller
Despite his irritation at the man and his concern for her, he had to smile at her gall. The woman was trying to do business at a ball. Before he could talk himself out of it, he turned on his heel and stalked across the room to the refreshments table where that bastard was holding court. He clapped the man’s shoulders and roughly pulled him away from his little party.
“Oi,” the man barked, and on a closer inspection Evan recognized him as the owner of a fairly large London shipping firm. She’d likely been trying to inquire about a shipping contract and the man couldn’t even show her some decency.
“Come with me,” Evan growled, gripping the bloke’s upper arm.
“What do you think you’re doing, man?” he whined while Evan dragged him across the room.
“It is Lord Darnick to you, you fucking pustule,” he spat out, as the shipper’s face instantly blanched.
“Lord?”he asked, and Evan’s mood darkened further. The magic word always seemed to work best on the absolutely worst people. “Where are you taking me?”
“To apologize to the lady you just disrespected in front of everyone.” That elicited an affronted balk, and Evan tightened his hand into a punishing grip. “You’ve no idea how much I would relish taking out every one of my many frustrations on you.”
“But she’s a—”
“Take my advice and shut up, before you lose every tooth in your head.” The man had quit struggling and was now looking at him with genuine fear. At least his self-preservation instincts seemed in working order, even if his decency was sorely lacking.
Evan didn’t get too close once he reached Luz Alana, not wanting to startle her. She had her back to the ballroom, the lines of her shoulders tense, head bowed. Something dark and cold moved in him at the sight of her distress. He would commit all matter of violence for this woman tonight if it would help wash away the misery radiating from her.
“Apologize,” he ordered the man. She stiffened when she heard his voice but would not turn to face him yet. His only view at the moment was the back of that flaming dress and a cluster of flowers on her hair of the same color.
“Miss Heith-Benzan, I’ve someone here who would like to speak to you.”
“Go away,” she said miserably. Evan shoved the man forward.
