know how to handle her silly fan, though. She observed the other young ladies and noted how they would flutter their fan, occasionally bringing it to their face, peering coyly at their partner over the top. Such silliness. Not me, not ever, she thought, and kept her fan to her side, occasionally raising it to let it rest on her right cheek. The gloves, too, were annoying. How she wished she could strip them off.
She was pleased that no waltzes or quadrilles had played for a time. She had been dancing every dance, with several different partners, when a florid-faced man of fifty or so, with a paunch and drooping eyelids, came up to Mrs. Trevlyn, eyed Evleen, and asked to be introduced.
Lydia demonstrated once again she could smile when the need arose. In fact, she appeared quite delighted. “This is William, Lord Corneale, Evleen,” she said eagerly, signaling his importance by raising a significant eyebrow as she further commented, “Lord Corneale owns one of the largest estates in England and is recently widowed.”
The older man bowed low to Evleen, all the time raking her body with lust-filled eyes. “Charmed to meet you, Miss O’Fallon. Where has a lovely girl like you been hiding?”
Evleen dipped a curtsy. After all that had gone wrong this evening, she was relieved she didn’t fall over. “I am delighted to meet you, sir.”
Lydia assumed a simpering smile. “If you’re wondering why her speech sounds a bit strange, Lord Corneale, our Evleen is fresh from Ireland. She’s the sister of young Patrick, who is now heir apparent to my brother-in-law’s estate. Just imagine, he was hidden away in Ireland all this time. Aren’t we lucky we found him!” She turned fond eyes on Evleen. “And of course his darling sister.”
Evleen almost laughed aloud. What could be more insincere than Lydia attempting to show her delight that her husband was no longer the heir? She wondered what Lydia was planning. It appeared she wanted to pawn Evleen off on this odious man, but how could that be? Lord Corneale was obviously a first son, apparently rich as Croesus. Surely Lydia would want to snare him for one of her daughters. The answer was obvious. First son or no, this man with the lascivious smile was just too odious.
“Would you care to dance, Miss O’Fallon?” asked Lord Corneale.
“Why, of course, I would be delighted.” Such hypocrisy. She would rather be in Ireland digging potatoes than dance with this man.
Soon they were on the dance floor, she reluctantly on Lord Corneale’s arm. He danced tolerably well, she’d give him that, but up close he had a musty smell about him, rather like an old tomb. She could hardly wait until the dance was over. When it was, she was starting off the dance floor when he quickly asked, “Would you care for a stroll in the garden, Miss O’Fallon?”
By the Saints, no. “Why, I...” Hmm, what could she say? As she searched for a suitable excuse, she lifted her fan to rest upon her right cheek.
His eyes lit. “Very good.” Before she could think what to do, he took her arm and started to guide her from the dance floor.
She protested, “Lord Corneale, I didn’t mean...” but he didn’t seem to hear.
“Nothing like a stroll in the moonlight,” he stated with great enthusiasm, and led her out the side doors to a balcony, where a wide expanse of formal garden lay below.
She was in for it now, she decided. Might as well go along and be polite, although how he could have thought she wanted to step outside with him, she would never know.
They walked down a flight of stone steps to the garden below, started their stroll down a path barely lit by moonlight. “This is my favorite time of year for a garden,” he remarked. “The daffodils and snap-dragons are magnificent, would you not agree, Miss O’Fallon?”
“I can hardly see them in the dark,” she answered bluntly. She was growing leery. As they strolled along, his breathing came faster and faster. Could it be his excitement over daffodils and snap-dragons? Ha! She thought not. They passed a fountain, beyond which the path wound into a patch of darkness surrounded by high shrubbery. At the darkest spot, he halted. With a grunt, his arms went tight around her and pulled her close. Before she could utter a word, his wet, slimy lips pressed hard against hers. Ugh! She pounded his shoulders with her fist but to no