How to Marry a Marquess (Wedded by Scandal 3)

He smiled. “Once again, Evie, you have your mother in an uproar.”

A watery laugh slipped from her.

“I read the invitation Lord Westfall has sent. Are you not even a bit curious?”

“No.”

“Strange indeed.”

Her eyes widened. “Are you wanting me to accept, Papa?”

He clasped his hands behind his back and walked to stand beside her. “No, it is your choice.” He frowned. “I’ve never quite worked up the courage to ask what you were doing alone with the marquess at midnight. You were dreadfully ill, and then your mother and I tiptoed around the issue, fearing your delicate nature would allow a relapse if pushed.”

“I am not that delicate,” she muttered, affronted.

“Of course, the reports in the papers were outlandish and not to be believed.” Eyes very similar to hers held her gaze. “Though I am ignorant of the situation, perhaps you should hear him out. We buried ourselves here in the country to escape the scandal, but I assure you it is very much alive in London and burning like wildfire. Despite the depictions of the cartoons, marriage to Lord Westfall at this moment is highly welcomed and will render you respectable.”

A crushing pain settled on her chest. “Oh, Papa, he will never marry me. Nor do I believe I want him, even if he offers.” Liar. The intolerable ache worsened.

He placed his hands around her shoulders.

“Did you know he barged into Rosette Park and stormed to your room when you were fevered?”

Evie froze. “I did not!” she said, stricken.

Was it that her fevered dreams…hadn’t been dreams?

Please, Evie, fight. Without you, I have no hope. Had her dreams of Richard holding her been a reality? Surely not. She then recalled the gentle stroking of his hand and the touch of his lips against her hair. Dear Lord, it hadn’t been a delirium.

“Hmm, he was quite desperate to see you, and he sat with you for hours. I’d always thought him a degenerate, but that day I saw a man who truly cared.”

“Why hasn’t anyone said Richard was there?” she whispered. “I cannot credit you and Mamma remained tight-lipped.”

A smile tugged at her father’s lips. “When you fell into your delirium, you also cursed him with some rather choice and alarming words. I believe that was the first time your dear mamma fainted…or perhaps it was when, in your delirium, you muttered you would inform him if there was to be a child.”

A tide of mortification swept through her and Evie almost fainted.

“I daresay, my dear child, you are fully recovered, and well enough to travel to this ball.”

He pressed a kiss to her cheek and departed.

A few minutes after her father left her with her uncertain thoughts, Evie hurried inside to the parlor. Adel was still waiting, but her mother was absent.

“Where is Mamma?”

A smile tipped Adel’s lips. “Lady Gladstone insisted your stubborn nature will see everyone to the poor house and has taken to her bed. I even heard a request for the doctors because her poor nerves are suffering terribly.”

Evie sighed, massaging the slow throb building at her temples. “Mamma doesn’t even like him,” she muttered.

“He has recently become imminently suitable to most maters in the ton. It seems the very idea that Westfall is hosting a ball has signaled his desire to be welcomed back into society’s fold.”

Evie couldn’t account for what would induce him to act in such a manner. “I doubt very much that is his intention.”

“Will you go?” her friend asked softly.

“I…I am unprepared. The ball starts in four hours’ time.”

“I have a dress in my carriage.”