With a sudden urge to give the man an opportunity to ask his question in order to enlighten him of her feelings, she said, “Of course, Mr. Sutherby. I will mark you down for the —” She should have said the waltz, a dance more suited to intimate conversation. “For the cotillion.”
Mr. Sutherby inclined his head. “And perhaps you would like to join me in the park tomorrow? Or perhaps a trip to a museum? Charlotte will be happy to accompany us.”
Evelyn fell silent for a moment.
“Oh, she would love nothing more, Mr. Sutherby,” Aunt Beatrice interjected. “Wouldn’t you, Evelyn?”
Before Evelyn could answer, they heard a commotion on the far side of the ballroom. A sea of heads shot to the door leading out into the hallway, but with the dance floor being overcrowded, she struggled to see what was happening. She could hear gasps and whispers rippling through the room.
“No doubt, someone has fainted from the suffocating heat,” Mr. Sutherby said. “Melbury really should limit the number of people he invites to his gatherings.”
Aunt Beatrice nodded. “It’s only a matter of time before someone …”
Evelyn ignored them, their words lost amidst the strange sensations gripping her. The hairs on her nape tingled. The air around her buzzed, the vibration causing her breath to come so quick she struggled to swallow.
Eve.
The name drifted through her mind. No one called her Eve, yet she knew it was meant for her. She glanced at Mr. Sutherby and her aunt, who were still discussing the dangers of being trampled in a crush.
Eve.
Despite not knowing who called out to her or where the sound came from, she felt an overwhelming need to respond, albeit silently.
I’m here.
The instant tug hit her deep in her core, drawing her forward, her body moving first while her feet followed. One step became two, and then three as she pushed through the crowd determined to reach the unknown destination.
Around her conversations resumed. The guests regrouped, and the noise of laughter filled the room once again.
Evelyn saw him waiting near the door, ignoring the gapes and stares.
Alexander Cole.
Her hand flew to her heart, the only way she could stop it from beating right out of her chest.
His dark hair hung in a sinister wave over his brow, his gaze cold and unforgiving as he scanned the crowd. Wearing full evening dress: a pure white shirt and neckcloth teamed with a black long-tailed coat and breeches, he looked devilishly handsome and downright dangerous. He had the look of a man capable of ripping out another man’s heart with his bare hands.
When he saw her, his face remained expressionless. Yet his eyes radiated warmth, the temperature intensifying until the rays penetrated her dress, her skin, every muscle in her body growing limp.
He stepped forward and she waited for him to reach her, frightened her legs would buckle. “Miss Bromwell,” he said offering a respectful bow. “You’re here.”
“Lord Hale.” Evelyn curtsied, yet in her mind she imagined throwing her arms around his neck. How bizarre. “Either I am dreaming, or you have left Stony Cross.”
“I thought a trip might improve my mood.”
Evelyn smiled. “And has it?”
“No. Not until now.”
For some reason, she felt her cheeks flame, and she pressed the pads of her fingers to her face expecting to hear them sizzle. “Are you so intent on stalking the Sutherbys that you’ve followed them all the way to London?” she asked in a bid to disguise the effect his presence was having on her.
The corners of his mouth curved just a fraction. “I am not stalking the Sutherbys. I am here to see you.”
Evelyn swallowed as she found his directness oddly
stimulating. “And what do you want with me, my lord?”
She was desperate to know the answer, desperate to know what had dragged him from his desolate prison.