Page 7 of The Beast's Bet

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Elizabeth forced her face to remain pleasant and receptive. She nodded and murmured her appreciation for his clear love of the hunt.

Point of fact, she was a good seat and could race as well as any young buck over the fields and through the woods. On horseback was one of the only times she felt free.

She was a good hunter as well, something her father insisted upon, even though she was appalled at the idea of all the beagles running after the fox. The concept of hunting for food, she understood. But she found herself rather sympathetic with the fox attempting to outrun the baying pack of dogs who longed to tear it to ribbons.

That was who she was… a creature who had to keep vigilant to stay alive.

As was so often the case, the gentleman in question turned Elizabeth rather roughly and certainly not very skillfully about the room.

When the music came to a pause, she was grateful to take a breath.

He gave a quick bow.

She curtsied and she walked away as quickly as she could, hoping to seek out punch. She knew that her father would be waiting, but perhaps…

She let her gaze swing over the room.

Yes!

Much to her relief and delight, she realized she’d earned a moment of reprieve.

He had slipped into one of the rooms where he might be able to fortify himself with brandy.

He knew that she would behave perfectly, that she would do nothing to embarrass him. No doubt he simply assumed that she would be asked immediately to dance and be swept to the floor again.

He did not dance. And he found the whole affair tedious, watching her circle about the room. He’d made that plain. And like a well-trained animal, he trusted she would perform as wished.

So, instead of walking to the refreshments table, Elizabeth slipped out to the cool hallway.

As soon as she eased into the shadowy corridor, lined with towering paintings of the Sheffield line, she dared to take in a long breath.

Truly, she needed but one moment alone to fortify her to return to the floor. If she could not have brandy, cool air and quiet would do.

She savored the feeling of being alone, whilst the ballroom buzzed like a hive of busy bees.

“Lady Elizabeth,” a deep, rumbling voice whispered out of the darkness.

She gasped and her heart slammed up into her throat.

That voice… it wrapped around her like silk. It did something to her, caressing her with its delicious richness. And somehow, even with its rough rumble? She did not feel fear.

In all her life she had never heard a voice like that. Deep, compelling. It conquered that darkness. It seemed at one with the shadow.

And as she turned slowly towards it, her eyes widened as she spotted what had to be the devil himself.

His silvery hair brushed his harsh cheekbones as he studied her with fiery eyes.

She had never seen a man so beautiful and almost otherworldly in all her life… or a man who was so clearly not of her set, but who was dressed to perfection and commanded the air about him.

Oh, helookeda gentleman.

But the moment she locked eyes with his, she knew…

He was not.

Chapter 3

Much to his surprise, and his relief, she did not look afraid. In fact, she barely looked startled by his presence.


Tags: Eva Devon Historical