A Daughter's Destiny (27 page)

“That seems an eternity ago when I hunger for another.”

As his mouth found hers, she delighted in the pleasures that refused to be forgotten. So easily she could recreate the sight of his head pressed close to her as his mouth explored her body. Her memory's ear could detect the rasp of his laugh as she found paradise in his arms. She yearned for his body against hers, propelling her into the ecstasy which had been agonizingly exquisite.

“Brienne!”

Pulling herself out of Evan's arms took every bit of her willpower when there was no place she would rather be. She faced her grandmother, who wore a disapproving frown.

Grand-mère said nothing, but she did not need to as she continued across the ballroom. She took her place among the other dowagers, nodding to them as if she were the hostess of this gathering. Grand-mère could not hide how much she missed the elegance of the life she had known in France. Even as a servant, she had been the witness to countless balls and gatherings.

Brienne sighed. “This change of heart she has had about you is going to be troublesome.”

“An understatement if I ever heard one.” Evan brushed the back of his fingers against her face; then his face hardened as he looked past her. “Will you excuse me? I see someone I must speak with.”

“Is something else wrong, Evan?”

“No, just some business that remains uncompleted.”

“Lagrille—”

“Do not speak his name here.” Again he touched her face lightly. “This is other business, honey, from before you got your life entangled with mine.”

“I like being entangled with you.”

His eyes sparkled as he kissed her finger, then pressed it to her lips. “Keep that thought, honey. We need not stay late at this assembly tonight.” Again he looked past her. “I have to go.”

She nodded. “Go and hurry back.”

“While I am speaking with—while I am gone, sit with your grandmother. You should not be alone.” He gave her a wry grin when she gasped. “Don't look dismayed. I meant only that you should not be unescorted here. A young woman who wanders about alone gives the suggestion to men with indecent thoughts upon their minds that she would be willing to partake of their favors.”

“Go!” She gave him a gentle shove. “I have been watching over myself since Grand-mère trusted me out of the salon on my own. I believe I can walk across a ballroom without getting into trouble.”

“We shall see. I suspect there are more than a few so-called gentlemen here who would like to prove you wrong.”

“You worry like an old tough.”

With a laugh, he winked and walked away in pursuit of whomever he sought to find.

Brienne laughed quietly as she went in the opposite direction. No matter where they were or what they were doing, Evan found a way to make the situation amusing. She wondered what sort of disaster would make him lose his sense of humor that had saved them so many times from despair.

The ballroom surely was even more chock-full than before. Amid what seemed to be every soul in the Polite World, she found the crowd smothering. She bumped into one person, then another as she tried to make her way toward her grandmother. Bits of conversation chased her. As they had at L'Enfant de la Patrie, the guests here shared gossip about others in the
ton
. She heard a few comments about the progress of the English forces against Napoleon, but clearly this gathering was more concerned with discussing the latest in fashion than the situation on the Spanish Peninsula.

Brienne tried to squeeze past two women who were enthusiastically discussing someone who seemed to have made a horrible
faux pas
. So intent were they on heaping blame on that poor soul whom they did not name that they ignored her requests to excuse her and allow her to pass. After saying, “Pardon me” for a third time, she gave up and edged to her right.

“Pardon me,” she said yet again when she bumped into a man.

“Pardon
me
,” he replied. He brushed at his sleeve where something had splattered. “I trust I did not spill any wine on you.”

“No, I am fine.” She flashed a quick smile at him as she looked to where her grandmother seemed to be separated from her by a vast moat of humanity.

“Ah, here you are.” Lady Jacington somehow maneuvered through the press of her guests with a skill Brienne doubted she could ever emulate. “I was wondering where you were, Miss LeClerc.” She put her hand on the arm of the man Brienne had bumped into. “Have you been introduced to Miss LeClerc, my lord?”

“I do not believe I have met Miss LeClerc before.” He bowed over her hand.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, my lord.” Not wanting to stare, she could not halt herself as he straightened to smile down at her. She was certain she had met him before. Mayhap at L'Enfant de la Patrie, although she could not ask him. There was something unquestioningly familiar about his sparkling eyes and the warm smile beneath his silver hair.

Lady Jacington twittered like a young girl. “My lord, Miss LeClerc knows barely a soul here tonight.”

“Just fired-off, are you?”

Brienne hesitated, not sure how to answer that. She was not a miss looking for a husband among the eligible bachelors who had money and a title to keep her in style. None of the bachelors with a title and no funds would be interested in her because she was penniless.

“I am staying with friends in Town, having only recently arrived from the country,” she answered, deciding on a facet of the truth. “Lady Jacington was kind enough to invite them to this soirée, and they were kind enough to ask me to join them.”

“And are you enjoying yourself, Miss LeClerc?”

“Yes. Lady Jacington is a wonderful hostess.”

She was awarded with a smile from the plump woman as Lady Jacington said, “You can find no one better to speak with, Miss LeClerc, than the earl. He knows everyone in the Polite World.”

“Mayhap I once did when I was as young as Miss LeClerc.” He chuckled, and again she was struck by the sensation that she had heard this sound before. But where? “My erstwhile tie-mates now worry more about rents and harvests than which rout to attend or which club to join.”

Music wove through the conversation, dimming it only a bit. Lady Jacington's smile broadened. “I thought the orchestra would wait until it was time to go into dinner before they began to play.”

“I am certain,” said the earl, “that you have the situation firmly in control, Lady Jacington. Only you could oversee such a gathering so early in the Season.”

“You are too kind, my lord.” She glanced at Brienne. “Where are your companions, Miss LeClerc?”

“Busy with other conversations. I thought to see how my grandmother was enjoying herself.” She wished she knew of a way to excuse herself without appearing impolite, but she had no idea how.

“Bah!” the lady said. “You should not be sitting with the dowagers. She should not, should she, my lord?”

“I consider her anxiety about her grandmother's welfare most touching and admirable.” He smiled, and she fought to remember where she had seen him smiling before.

“A young woman should be dancing.” Lady Jacington's tone suggested that getting into a brangle with her on this topic would be a waste of breath. “Don't you believe that, too, my lord?”

The earl gave Brienne a sympathetic grin, and she guessed he found Lady Jacington as amusing and as vexing as she did. “I would be a leather-head to say otherwise.”

“I have just the dandy!” Lady Jacington smiled as if this idea had just occurred to her, although Brienne guessed she had pounced on Brienne and the earl with this very intention in mind. “My lord, your wife has not yet arrived in Town, and Miss LeClerc has so very recently come among us. What would be better than to have her first dance with a respected gentleman instead of one of the rakes that seem to prey on unsuspecting misses?”

Brienne had a suspicion that no one could be as calculating as Lady Jacington was right now. Again she yearned for a way to put an end to this, so she could hurry to Grand-mère's side. Her grandmother would enjoy a laugh about their hostess's very obvious intentions.

“May I?” the earl asked with a bow toward Brienne.

She glanced around the room. If Evan had returned, she did not know where he was. Putting her hand on the earl's arm, she said, “I would be honored.”

“No, Miss LeClerc, the honor is mine.” He led her to the dance floor, keeping her smiling with lively conversation that seemed intent on putting her at ease.

She smiled as they joined the lines of dancers for the quadrille. How she had loved to dance when Grand-mère taught her in the tiny rooms over the salon! Then she could not have imagined that she would dancing in this splendid house with an earl.

Brienne was certain she had fallen asleep and was dreaming of a fairy tale where she could be a part of the impossible. Yes, her father had been a
duc
, but her life had been L'Enfant de la Patrie. To be on an earl's arm must be a fantasy.

She delighted in every moment. While the earl introduced her to the dancers on either side of them in the line, the orchestra played the first notes of the quadrille. She feared her smile was growing too wide for her face as she curtsied to the earl and let herself get caught up in the intricate pattern of steps. It was far more complicated than the dances Grand-mère had taught her.

When the earl faltered partway through the second pattern, Brienne was startled. His steps had been as elegant as a dancing master's until now. “My lord, you should walk to the left and …” She saw him scowling at someone past her and looked over her shoulder to meet Evan's furious gaze.

She had been so caught up in the dance that she had not noticed Evan coming toward them. Why was he angry with her? She had not done anything to call attention to herself. The dance floor was crowded, and she and the earl were in the middle of the line.

Then she realized his gaze was riveted on the man beside her. Around them, the other dancers paused. The music continued on, but no one moved. Even the conversation from around the dance floor vanished as every eye watched her and the two men.

Evan bowed his head the merest bit. “Good evening, my lord.”

“It was until now.” The earl's voice was as frigid as Evan's gaze. “If you will step aside, the dance you have interrupted may continue.”

“I shall.” Holding out his hand to Brienne, he said, “We both shall step aside.”

“Do you wish me to believe that Miss LeClerc is acquainted with you?”

“Quite well.” His lips curled into a stiff smile. “Brienne?”

Not sure what was happening, but knowing that the polite words covered emotions that could easily explode, she placed her hand on Evan's. She must put an end to this without delay. Her attempt to smile was futile as she said, “Thank you, my lord, for asking me to stand up with you. I enjoyed the chance to dance.”

“
Your
company was a pleasure, Miss LeClerc.” The earl strode away.

“Evan?” she asked, not sure which question to pose first when so many pummeled her lips.

“Not here.” He drew her hand within his arm and led her in the opposite direction.

Knowing that no one in the ballroom was looking anywhere save at her and Evan, Brienne stared straight ahead, pretending to be indifferent to the heads that bowed and the hiss of whispers as they passed. She thought Grand-mère would rush after them, but when Evan led her into a small chamber near the stairs, they were alone.

He shut the door. “Brienne, how could you be so unthinking? You drew everyone's attention to you.”

“Me? No one paid me any mind while I was dancing. 'Twas your interruption that created the hullabaloo.”

With a curse, he slammed his fist against the door frame. She gasped. Never during all the crises she had weathered with him had she seen him in such a huff. He had controlled his emotions, releasing them only when he held her in his arms. What had unsettled him so now?

“You are right,” he growled.

“I am?” She had not expected him to admit to that.

He snarled another oath. “I made an ass of myself and a spectacle of you.”

Hearing a smidgen of amusement return to his voice, she frowned. There was nothing humorous about this. “That cannot be changed, but, mayhap you will explain why you spoke so rudely to the earl.”

“The earl? Don't you know his name?”

“Lady Jacington never said.”

He laughed icily. “'Tis no surprise. The dowager viscountess has garnered a reputation for creating controversial situations and then watching everyone's reactions. That is why so many come to her assemblies. They know that something is bound to happen to entertain them. This chance meeting was something she simply could not resist exploiting for her guests' merriment.”

“But you were contemptible to him.”

“Because familiarity, they say, breeds contempt.”

“You know him?” she asked, again startled. This was getting more and more confusing.

“Yes.”

“For how long?”

“All my life.” His lips straightened. “He is my father.”

Chapter Seventeen

“Your father?” Brienne stared at Evan, sure she had misunderstood him. Then she knew she had not. No wonder the earl's smile and laugh had been familiar. They were his most obvious legacy to his son. She recalled the few comments Evan had made about his family. None of them had been complimentary, but the earl had been the epitome of graciousness to her.

“The Earl of Sommerton to be exact,” Evan replied, each word bitten off as if it tasted horrible in his mouth.

“Evan,” she whispered, putting her hand on his sleeve, “if your father is here, this is your chance to heal the wounds that fester between you.”

“You want me to apologize to
him?
” His laugh was raw. “I have warned you before that you should not think that your family is like all others.”