Chapter One

Chapter One

It ought to have been the best day of both Samira and Evangelina Acharya’s lives. It was Samira’s engagement ball to Viscount Rowan Marston, and her younger sister Evangelina’s true debut into society. For as long as Evangelina had had dreams, she had dreamed of this moment when she would step into the light and become all she was meant to be. Thankfully, her future brother-in-law was the kindest, most generous of men, and he had made sure Evangelina was fully outfitted and prepared for the event. Otherwise, Evangelina knew she would have felt entirely out of her depth. But it was remarkable what a new gown could do for one’s confidence. Evangelina softly stroked the pale pink satin that made her beautiful attire with her white-gloved hands, meditating on the perfection of the moment. She’d grown up hearing Samira’s tales of love and beauty, believing they were always just a few steps away from her, from being her reality. Samira, in contrast, had never expected them to come true for herself, and yet they had. Her little sister beamed with pride as she looked on at this gorgeous ball, all for Samira. Samira deserved every bit of it, and Evangelina was glad Rowan Marston knew it as well as she.

The Viscount had already made the loveliest of speeches about his intended to the entire ballroom, and Evangelina could not help but adore the man and his whole family. The Marstons were prolific, with six children. They had lost their father some years back, and their mother, Dierdre Marston, had set about the herculean task of raising all her children while her eldest son, Rowan, shouldered the burden of the title and becoming head of the family. The oldest daughter was a marchioness, the Marchioness of Conway, married to the Marquis, and they were the members of the clanlike Marstons that Evangelina knew the least. Therefore, they frightened her possibly more than a little. The Marchioness smiled a great deal and seemed exceptionally kind, but her husband was very stoic and very handsome and very high ranking, making Evangelina a bit uncomfortable. Samira said the man was gentle and thoughtful, though not exactly warm, and Evangelina was willing to take her sister’s word for it.

Also out in society and at the ball were the rest of the Marstons. The youngest Marston girl, Thalia, was of an age with Evangelina. Thalia was shockingly beautiful, poised, and perfect. Of all the Marstons, she seemed the least approachable to Evangelina, even with a Marchioness among their ranks. Evangelina was sure Thalia Marston was quite nice, as all the Marstons were, but Evangelina always felt less by comparison when she stood next to the glittering jewel of society. So generally, Evangelina stayed away.

Callista Marston was the second eldest daughter, a bit younger than Samira. Evangelina got on well enough with Callista, but as Callista was a force of nature, full of opinions and vitriol for the way society was run, Evangelina often felt overmatched and somewhat befuddled when she spoke to her. Evangelina thought it would have been a great privilege to be so much a part of society that one could critique it and not be thrown out. Evangelina only wanted a taste of what Callista took for granted. Not that Evangelina resented Callista Marston her opinions; indeed, Evangelina expected Callista was likely right about most of her beliefs on the beau monde, but Evangelina hoped to be able to find out for herself. Which was one of the many reasons why she was so excited to be at the ball that night.

Another such reason for excitement was the remaining Marstons, second son Ezekiel and third son Joel. The latter was kindly, charming, full of self-effacing humor and a voracious appetite for life, whether that was food or drink or dancing, always quick with a joke and an easy, enjoyable manner. He made Evangelina quite happy and comfortable. And Ezekiel Marston was…something else entirely.

“Will you dance, Miss Evangelina?” asked a man to whom Evangelina had been introduced earlier.

She readily agreed, slipping her hand into his and dancing in a fast-paced step Rowan had taught her the week before. As she spun about the room, Evangelina realized she was near the happy couple whom the ball honored as they danced together, smiling, laughing, never taking their eyes from each other. Rowan and Samira made a striking pair, his strong, black-clad, fixed frame, her swirling, elegant grace as silk whispered around their bodies, entwining them together as they moved, already as one. It made Evangelina’s heart ache with happiness.

Evangelina was thrilled beyond belief that Samira, her beloved sister and dearest friend, had found such a wonderful man to love her and love in return. It had been obvious from the first time the man sat in their parlor that he was smitten, but the differences in their station were great. It had seemed an insurmountable obstacle at the time, though Evangelina had always believed love would conquer all. There was simply nothing else for it. According to the indefatigable Lady Marston, the obstacle, so stated, was not insurmountable at all. Before they could even stop to think, the Acharyas were at a Marston ball and Rowan had asked Samira to be his wife. Evangelina had been on a whirlwind in the last weeks since the Viscount began showing up at their home bringing flowers and presents, teaching Evangelina to dance, ordering them dresses and dresses. And now, was marrying her sister.

That was, other than Samira’s immense happiness, the best part of this whole arrangement to Evangelina. At the engagement ball, she was wearing a new gown that Madame Seraphine had crafted for her specifically. It made her feel as though she were in a fairy tale herself, and even more so when she was being whirled about the floor by the cadre of eligible men at this ball. Rowan Marston had a great many friends and acquaintances that were young, handsome, well bred, and gentlemanly. Many of them had offered Evangelina a dance, and she had heartily accepted each. She knew she should not let her mind wander when it was just a dance, but with each man, she wondered if he could be her prince.

Samira had always told her little sister that if she ever had a season, if she ever were allowed out into true society, they would adore her. Men would write poetry about her. They would beg for a seat beside her at dinner, duel over who got to escort her on outings. It was all very romantic stuff. However, it was different when one’s sister told you that you were beautiful and desirable than to actually experience it in real life. Even if she was not Thalia Marston, it was clear to Evangelina that she held some charm to the men of this world. They came in droves, smiling and kind and handsome and rich. They were introduced to her, and they invariably asked for a dance. With each man, Evangelina wondered what her life might be like with him. As the young man, a Mr. Bloom, bowed to her at the end of the dance, she began to think through her partners from the evening, the standouts.

Lord Nathaniel Blake was dashing, dark, and a little dangerous – a life full of passion and heartbreak there, but it would be worth it for those eyes so yellow they were almost feline and a smile that could light the entire ballroom without so much as a single candle. Gideon Lennox, Earl of Kensington, would provide kindness, excitement, a flair for the finest things in life. He was dressed in the richest attire she had ever seen, and yet it was not ostentatious in its presentation, but she was also quite sure she saw him sneaking nips from a hip flask. A bad sign, that, but then, they were at a party, so perhaps it was no great vice. The Viscount himself even danced with Evangelina, and she could not help but beam at him. The way Rowan looked at her sister, that was all Evangelina wanted in the world, for Samira and for herself. A man to love and cherish, and a man who would give the same to her. What could anyone want for more than that?

Love had always been something of a hole in Evangelina’s heart. She’d had her mother and sister, of course, and loved them more than life itself, but never knowing her father, and now being eighteen years old and finally having her first dances with men, it was a great dearth of affection or romance in her life. Now, though, she had it in abundance.

Never was that clearer than when Ezekiel Marston took her to the floor.

The man himself approached, all formality and grace in his form, but something light and pleasing in his sparkling eyes. “Care to dance, Miss Evangelina?”

“Thank you, sir,” Evangelina slipped her hand in his and felt a jolt of heat even through his gloves and hers.

She stared up at him, rapt, unable to tear her eyes away. Oh, the man was perfection itself. Tall, taller even than the Viscount so that he towered over Evangelina’s diminutive frame. Blue eyes, bluer than the summer sky at midday, and bright enough to shine with their own light. Graceful and gracious, funny but never cutting, charming and good, and an artist, too. Evangelina felt the power of creation in his hands when he held her waist and spun her about, and she felt herself keenly deprived by his white gloves.

Evangelina looked up into his face and wondered what kind of life it would be with Ezekiel Marston. An artist’s wife. He was a second son, possessing plenty of income from his family, not working to support himself but instead pursuing his craft for the love of the art. It made butterflies flutter in Evangelina’s belly; he was something the likes of which she’d never seen.

That was when Evangelina felt the air shift. For all her love of fairy tales, she’d never put much stock in magic or premonitions, but in that moment, it was as if someone had walked over her grave and she’d felt every plodding step.

“Something the matter?” asked Ezekiel.

Evangelina craned her neck. “I–I don’t know. I feel something. I think Samira is in trouble.”

The words came out before she could even think of them; she didn’t want Ezekiel Marston thinking she was foolish. Yet, the truth of her words struck a deep chord, and she could not deny them. It would be no surprise to her, she supposed, if the distress of the person to whom she had the deepest connection would be echoed in Evangelina’s own being.

“She’s over there,” Ezekiel indicated with his chin, able to see far more than Evangelina from his advantage of the better part of a foot. “And she’s with Rowan. They’re–”

He stopped short, and so did Evangelina, ceasing the steps of the dance just as Ezekiel kept at his, which succeeding in mashing her face against the front of his buttons. She made a small “oof” and nearly lost her balance, flailing back with her arms outstretched. But Ezekiel caught her, both hands wrapped around her waist, nearly reaching from one side to the other. Evangelina gasped, the contact feeling suddenly very intimate, making her face flush mightily.

“Stay here,” Ezekiel instructed.

Evangelina was taken aback by the command as he left her there, nonplussed and partnerless on the dancefloor. Ezekiel was easy to spot as he moved from the dance floor, the direction he was going determined and his movements sharp and economical, parting the crowd like Moses at the Red Sea. After a moment’s hesitation, or perhaps contemplation, Evangelina strode after him. Her way was harder made through the crush that seemed to be growing thicker the closer she got to where she’d seen Ezekiel going. People were jostling and jockeying for position, but Evangelina squirmed between them until she discovered what it was that had caught the attention of so many.

The first thing she saw was the Marquis of Conway, then both Ezekiel and Joel Marston, the Viscount’s brothers, leading away a large, red-faced man with a truly hideous pattern of bruising on his face and a plainly broken nose. It was not fresh, but instead the ugly purple and green and yellow mottling of healing injuries. Then she saw Rowan Marson himself, hunched slightly, in the strangest pose. When finally, Evangelina shoved her way through the last of the crowd, she saw why.

Rowan Marston was holding her sister limp in his arms.

He was yelling things, shouting for the crowd to move, commanding instructions, sweeping Samira out of the room. Evangelina felt dizzy. She had never seen Samira so much as swoon, and now…had she fainted? What possibly could have caused such a thing? Evangelina rushed after them, picking up her skirts and not caring who saw her ankles as she rushed along, batting people aside as she did.

“Eva!” she heard her mother’s cry, but couldn’t stop, not even for that.

What if it was something worse? What if Samira was truly hurt or ill? She followed Rowan and Samira, still in his arms, into a room. Evangelina did not even have the thought to notice what room, or anyone else but her sister, whom Rowan laid out on a sofa. Evangelina dropped to her knees by Samira, next to the Viscount, who was shouting for blankets, water, a doctor. Everything was making Evangelina’s head spin.

It might have been seconds, minutes, hours…Evangelina did not know. All she registered was that her mother was now at Samira’s head, cooing softly and dabbing a damp cloth on her forehead. Evangelina began to pray. She prayed to Dhanvantari and the Christian God, to Shakti, to anyone who was out there and might listen, to keep her sister safe and well.

“Evangelina,” said the soft, strong voice of Lady Marston.

Evangelina turned her head, looking up at the woman. “What is it?”

“Can you come here a moment, child?” she asked, her voice soft and motherly.

Evangelina cast a look to Samira, but with their mother and Rowan at her side, she knew Samira was in the best, loving hands. Evangelina rose, turning to Lady Marston.

“Yes?” she asked.

Lady Marston wetted her lips. “Did you see what happened?”

“I know Samira fainted, and that they were pushing another man away,” said Evangelina, her mind foggy but that memory crystallized. “Did he do something to my sister?”

Lady Marston’s eyes flicked downward, hooding whatever thought had come to mind. “So you don’t know who he was?”

Evangelina knitted her brow. “Should I?”

“That,” said Lady Marston softly. “Was the Earl of Claymore.”

Evangelina felt her knees weaken. Her mother and sister had not kept her fully in the dark about the man who sired her, impregnated her mother and abandoned them all. But they’d spared her the pain of ever having to meet him, and perhaps he had as well. Until now. It was a horrid legacy, one Evangelina did her best to forget. But when it came rushing up at her like this, it was enough to unsettle her completely. It had been enough to cause Samira to faint!

His simple presence, Evangelina reasoned, would hardly be enough for that. A man like that, a man who took what he wanted and asked no questions, would not be in attendance without reason. Evangelina leveled her gaze at Lady Marston, willing her voice to remain steady and strong.

“What did he want?” whispered Evangelina.

“Oh my dear,” Lady Marston grabbed her hand and squeezed in attempted comfort, but it only made Evangelina’s stomach tighten. “I’m afraid to say…he wanted you.”

The air rushed from Evangelina’s lungs like she had been struck hard in the chest. Her eyes watered and her throat constricted. She barely managed to eke out a single word:

“Why?”

Why now, she thought, after all this time?

“He thinks you are an asset to him, now associated as you are with this family,” said Lady Marston. “But know this: we will not let him anywhere near you. You will be safe. You are our family. Do you understand?”

Evangelina felt a wash of emotions play over her. Every sentiment she had ever known to feel rose up inside her at once, manifold and all consuming. Anger and fear toward the Earl. Fear and love for Samira. Love and joy that this family would protect her as one of their own. Horror and shame that they would have to. Fear, again, for them as well. Anger, more, more, until it was all a whirlpool in her mind.

With a deep, slow breath, Evangelina shut off the valve. She’d been doing it as long as she could remember, that when something was too hard or too big, when the rush of emotions came at her, she would simply close the floodgates, and it wouldn’t get through. Then, as she had the time and the energy and the capacity, Evangelina would slowly ease the wheel until a trickle, then a stream, came out in a steady flow. After a while, her levels would balance again, and she would be all right. But at the moment, she needed nothing on this side of things, only herself and what Samira needed from her.

“Thank you,” whispered Evangelina. “Yes.”

Lady Marston squeezed her hand again, then let go, and Evangelina moved back to crouch by her sister. Only moments later, there was a change, a twitch at Samira’s hand, a shift of her body. When Samira’s eyes finally fluttered open, Evangelina could have sobbed with relief. Instead, she let the tears fall silently and clutched her hands on her sister’s knee. A small trickle started in Evangelina’s heart, and all she allowed in was the joy, the relief, that Samira was awake. Everything else could come in time, but Sam was there, and Sam always knew what to do.

The first thing Samira said was the name of her fiance; it was a beautiful thing, that waking or sleeping, conscious or not, their souls called out to one another. Samira tried to sit up, but Rowan kept her back, explaining to her that she had fainted.

“I don’t faint!” Samira retorted.

Evangelina couldn’t help but smile. This was her sister, the woman who would refuse to accept the plain truth in front of her face because it did not fit with what she had previously believed. Fierce, independent, an oak tree among wildflowers, Samira was a gift, and one Evangelina thanked all things holy had been returned to them unharmed.

“Do you remember what happened?” Rowan asked softly.

Samira tried to sit up, slower this time, and Rowan helped. Once she was settled, she began with “The Earl…” then “Evangelina!”

Evangelina moved closer, within her sister’s reach, sitting on the sofa beside her. “Oh, Sam! You had us so worried!”

Evangelina brought Samira’s hands to her lips and kissed each one, rubbing her surprisingly chilly fingers. Samira was always so warm, it was unnerving to see her thus, to feel her so different than her little sister was used to. Samira always took care of others and never needed caretaking herself. Evangelina felt the bite of shame at that. Everyone needed to be taken care of sometimes, and yet, she had never truly given her sister what her sister had given her. A few hairbrushings, a few stories, but Samira was the net Evangelina always knew would catch her. To Samira, Evangelina couldn’t be more than a small comfort at times like these, and it made Evangelina feel small and unworthy.

Samaria shook her head.“Chintu, I am so sorry. Did you hear?”

“Yes,” breathed Evangelina, looking to Lady Marston. “But…I am not afraid.”

“Nor should you be,” Rowan said firmly. “He is no threat to you or us. I will make sure of it.”

Evangelina felt the first genuine smile start on her face since this had happened, and she directed it to Rowan. He gave a small smile back. Samira then turned to their mother, and Rowan moved away to speak to one of his brothers.

“How are you feeling?” asked Mama.

Samira gave a halfhearted smile. “Never better.”

Mama cupped Samira’s cheek. “Now now, don’t be a hero. What do you need?”

Samira breathed slowly and closed her eyes. “Just some water, I think.”

That was given immediately to her, and Samira drank slowly. Evangelina could see her color improving quickly, and the light in her eyes was brightening once more. Someone brought tea, and she was encouraged by her doting mother and sister to take some as well as eat a biscuit. Rowan had some himself, as though to convince her it was all right to take sustenance even when one hadn’t endured a medical ailment, but especially then. It was a beautiful thing, to see how they two interacted.

Some time later, Ezekiel returned. He brought with him a doctor, who urged everyone except his patient and her mother out of the room. Evangelina found herself in what might have been a strange position, the only outsider amongst the family Marston. Even the Marquis of Conway, who was married to the eldest Marston sister, was not there, but instead in the ballroom, managing the crowd with his wife. But Ezekiel Marston came up to her then, offering Evangelina his arm.

“Would you like to take a turn?” he asked. “I thought you might want a bit of air.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, slipping her hand into the crook of his elbow.

Ezekiel was warm, even through the layers of evening clothes, and strong, a body much more physical than she would have expected of an artist. But then, he filled out his attire remarkably, so she was not surprised.

“It’s just a walk,” said Ezekiel quietly.

“I mean for everything,” Evangelina responded.

She could not forget the look of him as he had rushed toward the danger, putting himself in harm’s way for the sake of his brother and her sister. Evangelina could not help but see the golden aura around him, the sense that he was a man amongst boys, that every other she had danced with or might turn her head would forever pale in comparison to the artist with blue fire in his eyes and the heart of a champion. Her own heart stuttered at the thought as he led her in a wide circle around the library, where most of the family had retired while the doctor did his examination.

“You know what happened?” he asked softly.

Despite the subject matter, his voice, so low and intimate, made her shiver. Thinking her cold, Ezekiel steered them close to the fire and offered her a seat. She took it, though she knew she would rather be walking, her energy nervous and unsettled.

“Roughly,” Evangelina admitted.

“The Earl has played his hand,” said Ezekiel, softly but firmly. “He believes because he is biologically your father, he has claim to take you from your mother.”

Evangelina worried her lip. “Does he?”

“I’m not a lawyer,” Ezekiel said.

Evangelina gave him a wan smile. “Your opinion, Mr. Marston. I shall not hold you to it in a court of law.”

He matched her expression. “Of course not. He has no evidence that he even is your father, and given the…circumstances of your birth, he would be hard pressed to prove it.”

She might have been embarrassed at such an implication if she had not been quite used to such tactful and yet obvious references to her bastard birth. She did not know the details precisely, but it had been a great betrayal to her mother. The Earl of Claymore had promised her much, had her leave the family she knew and loved in India, bringing her elder daughter from her marriage – Samaria – with her. The Earl had gotten Patrice with child – Evangelina – and when Patrice had told him, had hoped for marriage or simply to be taken care of, the Earl abandoned her.

“Would he need to?” asked Evangelina. “Would they not take his word for it? Especially with a man who wants to claim a bastard as opposed to shirking the responsibilities?”

Ezekiel’s eyebrows lifted. “Well, that is a possibility, but your mother will have our support, as well as Conway’s. I doubt the courts will want to rule on it, to take sides between powerful families. They will likely try to get us all to find an amicable solution without having to anger the influential people on either side of this.”

It was a strange thing for the Acharyas, to have powerful people working on their side rather than against them, or simply not noticing them, which was more common. The only time Evangelina had laid eyes on the aristocracy before Samira fell in love with one was from their bedroom window when such men had come to visit her mother. As a young girl, Evangelina had thought them social calls, thought her mother simply had lots of important friends, but she had been implanted with a deep wariness of their kind, despite them always coming by. She had been cautious before she even knew why.

Then, when she was thirteen, Samira had told her the truth. It had shocked and dismayed Evangelina, turning her world a little darker. She hated that, that the world seemed to dim a little more the older she got. The only exception had been when Rowan had come into Samira’s life and, by extension, all their lives. He brought light with him in his smiles, his kindness, his presents, his care. He had taught her to dance, brought her into the light of London society, introduced her proudly as his future sister-in-law. The whole family had opened their arms to the Acharyas, and Evangelina loved them all deeply from the moment they had welcomed her and her family in.

Evangelina folded her hands. “I don’t want to be the beginning of a feud.”

“Believe me,” said Ezekiel, leaning slightly forward. “Rowan was ready for war long before this. And even if he wasn’t, it would never be your fault.”

Roses bloomed on Evangelina’s cheeks at the intensity of his words, turning her lightly tanned skin pink. “Thank you, Mr. Marston.”

“Zeke,” he said. “You should call me by the name my friends do, if we are to be related soon. My mother calls me Ezekiel, but that is a bit cumbersome at times.”

She smiled, more genuinely this time. “Then you must call me Evangelina. It is also cumbersome, so occasionally my family shortens it to Eva.”

“Evangelina,” he said, looking with a powerful gaze into her eyes. “We will protect you.”

But what Evangelina heard, what she was almost sure he meant, was I will protect you.