Chapter 16

CHAPTER 16

Is there actually something or someone he cannot access?

Evie felt as if she were in a daze. When Scarlett had mentioned that Mr. Turner would be in attendance tonight, she had not exactly thought out how to meet him properly. For her, it was already enough to be in the same place as him—a painter she admired as a master of his craft.

Never had she thought that she would actually be meeting him. Be introduced to him. Talk to him.

What am I supposed to say? How am I supposed to act?

“There is no need to be nervous.”

She glanced up and found Daniel staring at her with a neutral expression, his face devoid of any emotion.

It was so easy for him to say that when she knew he was apathetic to most of the world. How could he possibly understand the excitement coursing through her now?

Evie scowled at him. “I am not nervous.”

“Forgive me. It must have been my hand that was trembling.”

He was teasing her! Here she was, her heart almost beating out of her chest, her knees knocking together, and he still had the gall to tease her!

Daniel Stanton truly was the most attractive, infuriating man alive!

She wanted to hit him. Was it considered appropriate to smack one’s betrothed in public? Perhaps not, but the temptation to retaliate was too great to resist.

She pinched his arm, and he did not even flinch. She rolled her eyes at that. Was he impervious to pain as well? Perhaps even if she hit him outright, it would have the same effect as a gnat fighting against a giant.

But gnats can sting. Maybe if I hit him right in the eye…

“Mr. Turner, I suppose you have not met my betrothed,” she heard him say calmly. “Lady Evelyn Fitzroy.”

All at once, thoughts of vengeance flew out of her mind as she beheld the artist whose works she had admired for so very long.

Mr. Bernard Turner himself.

The painter looked to be no more than in the third decade of his life, with an open smile and wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. He wore a dark blue jacket, and his cravat was tied rather sloppily, as if he had put it there as an afterthought. This was a man who cared very little for appearances, choosing instead to capture the beauty around him with his brush.

Truly a man worthy of admiration. Nothing more.

“My Lady.” Mr. Turner smiled politely at her. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” Evie croaked. “I… have great admiration for your works. Your technique in Swallows in Flight is absolutely exquisite. I have never seen such delicate strokes in my entire life.”

“Ah!” The painter’s eyes twinkled with delight. “One with an eye for details. Impressive.”

“Of course,” Daniel remarked with a raised eyebrow, as if she could not possibly be anything else.

If he said she was impressive, then she was certainly the most impressive amongst womankind, and anyone who dared suggest otherwise was a fool.

Evie wanted to roll her eyes at that one.

Can he ever be wrong?

She felt that she was not going to like his answer to that question.

Suddenly, a shrill whistle pierced through the night air as a brilliant light arced into the sky. When it reached the zenith of its ascent, it exploded into scattered flowers of multicolored lights, crackling as they went.

Evie’s blood ran cold as the gathered audience gasped in awe.

The fireworks display had begun.

“No,” she gasped, her eyes closing as she fought to keep the images at bay. “No!”

Flames licking at her skin, her dress, her hair… All around her, the air was thick with smoke, smothering her lungs and her cries for help… Her eyes watering from the heat and the smoke, her senses clouded except for the clear popping and crackling of wood as the fire devoured everything in its path to get to her…

She could not get out.

It had been half a decade, and she was still trapped in the burning house and there was no one in the whole wide world who could get her out to safety.

Daniel had seen that look before.

On the faces of men who had crawled away from the brink of death. On the faces of women who had survived the direst of circumstances and lived on with the scars. On the faces of children who had known the cruelty of the world before they felt the affection of a mother.

But never on the face of a gently bred young lady celebrated by Society.

“No…”

It was a moan. A plea.

“No… please…”

A cold chill ran down his spine when he saw her squeeze her eyes shut, her hands coming up to her ears to block the sounds of a million explosives launching themselves into the sky in a dizzying array.

Gunpowder was first valued for its capability to turn the tides of war. Now, the aristocracy used it to satisfy their insatiable need for entertainment.

Except that some of them were more horrified than entertained.

He reached out for Evie, but she managed to slip past him as she ran away from the crowd and the dazzling display above them.

He cursed under his breath.

Damn it!

It was so easy to lose her in a crush like this, but Daniel had more experience than most of his acquaintances in maneuvering his way through a thick crowd.

He wove in easily, following her as she made her way to a cluster of trees, the thick foliage providing a canopy that blocked out the arcing lights overhead.

He found her huddled at the foot of one of those trees, trembling like a fawn startled by a hunter’s gunshot. His heart clenched at the sight of her—so fragile and broken—and before he could even register what he was doing, he had pulled her delicate frame to his chest, running his hand through her hair and whispering soft, unintelligible words to soothe her.

Eventually, her sobs ceased, and her breathing evened out, interrupted only by the occasional hiccup.

“You must find me laughable right now,” she wept. Her lower lip trembled even as she managed to pout. “An absolute laughingstock.”

Daniel would have laughed at how adorable the display was if he did not feel as if a knife had been brutally inserted into his chest and twisted with deliberate slowness.

“I do not know what came over me. I think it’s the smell of smoke,” she continued. “I have been like this ever since… ever since that night.”

That night.

Those words echoed hollowly in his heart.

More than half a decade ago, Colin had ended his Grand Tour of Europe when the news that an entire wing of Blackthorn Estate was badly burned reached them. It would have hardly mattered to him, but his parents had both perished in the fire, although there had been no other casualties.

Daniel had thought it strange, back then, that not even a servant died, but the Duke and his Duchess never made it out.

Whenever anyone talked of such a tragedy, they mostly forgot that there had been one other survivor who lived to tell the harrowing tale of that night.

Evie had survived that fire, but Daniel had never learned how she managed to get out when the fire razed what should have been her rooms as well.

Judging from her current state, she did not manage to do so easily. There were scars that were invisible to the naked eye but were no less as horrifying—and these were the scars she now bore.

“I swear that I shall never let anything bad happen to you,” he promised her softly, holding her in his arms as if she were a child. “But, sweetheart, if you open your eyes, you might see that there is a sense of beauty in the display, and you might find some inspiration for your paintings.”

She choked on a laugh. “You truly think I can paint.”

He looked at her with a raised eyebrow. “If you say you can, then you can. I would like to see anyone who dares try to say otherwise.”

She tilted her head to look at the fireworks, her body stiff as a board. As flowers of light burst in the night sky, he could feel her relaxing in his arms, her body becoming more pliant. Warm.

“You are right,” she whispered. “It is very beautiful, indeed.”

Nowhere near as beautiful as you.

Her eyes were wide with wonder, as if she was discovering beauty for the first time. Her lips, slightly parted, seemed to invite him for a taste.

Or a feast.

Daniel groaned inwardly at the direction of his thoughts. He already knew that he would not stop at a taste. He would crave more of her, devouring her until not even her soul remained.

They sat there for some time—her, enjoying the fireworks for the first time in half a decade, and him, simply enjoying her awed delight.

“That… that was not so bad,” she admitted shyly. “I think I might have enjoyed it⁠—”

Suddenly, a look of horror flashed across her face, and he worried that she might have remembered something else when she said something that provoked his ire.

“Oh my God, Mr. Turner!” she gasped, scrambling out of his arms.

He pinched her chin with his thumb and forefinger and tilted her face up to meet his gaze.

“You are not to utter another man’s name in my presence,” he growled threateningly at her. “Ever.”

Her brow furrowed. “Or else what?”

“Or else you will have a man’s blood on your hands, sweetheart,” he said coldly. “Is that what you want?”

Evie, however, simply rolled her eyes and jerked her chin out of his grasp. “Goodness,” she muttered. “I never knew you were so dramatic!”

Daniel was not joking. Sheer bloodlust was rushing through his veins right now, and if she dared to defend the man again, he was going to head back and break every bone in that bloody painter’s body.

Starting with his hands.

“But you see, I just embarrassed myself!” she moaned in abject misery. “I randomly left in the middle of our conversation, and now he will never want to teach me. He must think me the veriest fool alive⁠—”

“He would not dare,” he growled. “Not if he knows what is good for him!”

“Daniel,” she sighed in exasperation. “You cannot just threaten everyone to make them bow to your wishes.”

“Who said I was going to stop at threatening?”

She gave him a look that told him she absolutely forbade him to do whatever he had in mind. She was far too softhearted, and he had seen far too much of the world to ever be as kind.

“Do not worry overmuch,” he reassured her. “I shall take care of it. Before this night is over, that damned Mr. Turner will be begging to teach you whatever you want.”

She looked at him suspiciously. “Well, thank you… I suppose.”

“You suppose?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Laughingly, she turned her face back to the fireworks. “That depends on how you will be able to convince him, of course—if you can even do so without resorting to violence.”

“Oh, you of little faith,” he murmured, his gaze softening as he continued to watch her upturned face.

This time, there was no fear in her eyes, no trembling of her lips. Instead, there was a slight smile, her eyes wide as she took in the display before her.

He took that opportunity to lean in and whisper into her ear, “See? Only good things happen to you when you listen to me.”

She turned slightly towards him, her face so near to his. Her lips only a breath away.

“Will you listen to me, too?” she asked him. “From time to time?”

If she continued to look at him like that, he might be tempted to promise her that he would lay the world at her feet.

It was a dangerous, dangerous game they were playing, with both of them circling each other warily as their attraction flared hot and fierce between them.

He allowed a small smile to tease the corners of his lips. “It depends.”

“It depends on what?”

“On whether what you are asking is within reason.”

“Oh.” She did not sound the least bit disappointed. “Kiss me,” she told him instead.

Daniel pulled back slightly, his eyebrows snapping together in a frown. “You do not know what you are asking for, sweetheart.”

She trailed her finger down the side of his neck to his chest. Damn it, the woman was a natural-born seductress. Just where the hell did she learn how to heat a man’s blood like that?

As if a single look from her does not have me hard and aching to bury myself into her wet heat…

“You are my betrothed, are you not?” she asked him, her voice a sultry whisper. “Kiss me, Daniel.”

Had he been in his right mind, he would have refused her. Had he valued his friendship with her brother a little more, he might have pulled away from her.

But Daniel had decided that when it came to Evie and even her littlest demands, he was hardly sane nor grateful.

If she had asked him to burn the world for her, he would have asked her how hot she wanted it.

What was a kiss compared to the destruction of the world?

If she wanted that, then they would both burn for it.