Page 54 of Portrait of a Lady
“Whores and more whores,” Dominick muttered into his glass.
“Some of us don’t want to pass the pox on to our keepers,” Aubrey said with a glare in Nick’s direction.
“Some of us have been recently cut loose and have no keeper to stop him from plowing through half of Haymarket,” Dominick fired back. “Besides, I’m as clean as a duke’s left foot, I’ll have you know.”
For some reason that caught Hugh’s attention, striking him as the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard. “Why only the left foot?”
Dominick never got the chance to respond, because just then, the music began and pairs of dancers filled the floor for the first quadrille of the night. Panic welled up inside him as he realized that the waltz would be next, and his partner still had not arrived.
“Steady,” Aubrey said at his back. “The quadrille is infernally long. You’ve still a quarter of an hour.”
He wanted to take solace in that, but the night already seemed to race by him at breakneck speed. What was fifteen minutes when compared to the rest of his life? It was nothing. A blink of an eye in the grand scene of things...enough time for him to lose Evelyn for good.
He finished his second flute of champagne, but turned down another, not wanting to be foxed if Evelyn did show.
She would. He had to believe that, because if he didn’t he might not be able to go on standing here, watching and waiting for a woman who might never arrive.
His friends fell inexplicably silent, as if the tension had become too much for even them to bear. Five minutes passed, then seven, then ten. The quadrille had nearly ended with Hugh ready to take Benedict up on his escape plan, when David nudged him and inclined his head toward the entrance.
“Isn’t that Evelyn?”
Heartbeat stuttering, Hugh craned his neck, his glass nearly falling from his hand as he caught sight of the vision rushing into the ballroom on swift feet, skirts held aloft. Benedict took the empty glass before he could lose his grip, freeing Hugh to step forward. His heart seized in his chest at the sight of her, more radiant than he’d ever seen her in a ball gown of vibrant blue very similar to the ultramarine pigment he’d used to paint her sash in the portrait.
A wide grin spread across his face as he saw the gown for what it was—her own declaration. Not as loud or as bold as his own, but it was just the sort of thing she would do, sending a message that only he could read. She looked as if she’d stepped right out of the portrait and into this ballroom, her shoulders bared by the gown, her hair piled on top of her head in a whimsical coiffure with a few stray curls kissing her jaw and neck.
As the quadrille came to an end, he began making his way toward her, determination quickening his steps. He had to get to her, to know for certain that she wasn’t some sort of illusion. She paused at the sight of him, lips parting as she waited for him to reach her. He wanted nothing more than to take her into his arms and beg her forgiveness, promising to earn her heart every day for the rest of his life if that was what it took. But, he’d now gained the attention of his sister’s guests, who had been watching and waiting for this moment since arriving.
As the orchestra began the first strains of the waltz, he reached her. Her fathomless eyes pulled him in until he felt as if he were drowning in the dark depths. And, God help him, he never wanted to come up for air.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” she said, her words panted out on swift breaths. “There was quite a bit of traffic, and I told Patience we ought to have left much earlier, and—”
“None of it matters,” he said, extending a hand to her. “You’re here. You came.”
Biting her lip, she put her hand in his. It shook, but she steadied it and laid it firmly in his palm.
“How could I not? You left me with no choice.”
She had certainly had a choice. She might have refused to come and left no doubt in his mind that she was finished with him. But she hadn’t, and he’d never been more elated or relieved in his life.
He wasted no time leading her to the center of the empty dance floor, where others had gathered on the perimeter to watch in wide-eyed astonishment. Of all the women in the room, he had chosen the one none of them would have expected. Already, word had begun to spread, and women were whispering behind their fans that the son of the Earl of Perth had just declared himself for the world to see for a spinster who was long in the tooth and had been all but forgotten since removing herself from the Marriage Mart.
Evelyn’s wide eyes darted here and there, taking in the spectators, her entire body wracked with tremors. “Hugh...everyone’s watching. They’re all staring at us.”
She sucked in a ragged breath, her tremors stilling as she laid her hand on his arm and tightened her hold on his hand.
“Look at me,” he urged, searching out her eyes.
Her gaze came up to meet his, every bit of her trepidation vanishing in an instant. He smiled at her.
“It’s just us, Evie. Just you and me.”
She relaxed in his arms, and in the midst of his sister’s ballroom with hundreds of thebeau mondelooking on, he led her in the sweeping motions of the waltz. He never took his eyes off her, sinking into the moment as if it truly was meant only for them. Yes, he’d staged this entire thing to win her, but in the end none of the people looking on mattered. He had the one thing that mattered most right here in his arms.
“Forgive me,” he murmured. “The things I said...I didn’t mean them.”
Her brow furrowed as she searched his eyes as if trying to ferret out the truth. “Then why did you say them?”
“Because I am a fool. I realized I loved you a while ago, Evie. I loved you so much and so deeply, it hurt...because I never thought you would feel the same way.”
