In Magician's Embrace [BOOK 1 of Price Family Saga]

8. Chapter (The Lovers)

Corinne felt an overwhelming desire to escape as she finally, within the bounds of propriety, could free herself from the company of Lady Kendall. The sight of Rose and their confrontation reignited old wounds she had believed long healed. Taking a deep breath, she found solace in the approaching carriage, hoping to secretly indulge in a glass upon her return home, despite being well aware of Travis' strictness. Though she doubted alcohol would come to her easily these days, she felt incapable of facing the evening without it.

Thus, upon alighting from the carriage, she hastened her steps toward the house. Thick darkness had already enveloped the outside, and within the house, only the main hall and the wing where Corinne resided were faintly illuminated. After the majordomo granted her entry, she dismissed him with the words that his services would no longer be required for the night. Without delay, she made her way toward a small cabinet where she had kept her whisky and other spirits. However, to her dismay, she discovered that the newly added crystal decanters and glasses were completely empty.

"Good evening, my lady," a coarse voice echoed behind her.

Startled, she nearly jumped out of her skin. Her eyes struggled to adjust to the dimness, but soon she recognised a young man with blond hair and striking green eyes, reclining on a couch, studying her intently.

"And who might you be?" she inquired sharply.

"I am Evan Kendall, the Earl of Darlington, at your service," he responded with a hint of amusement. He remained seated on the couch, merely observing her. "I apologise if I startled you. You must be Lady Corinne St. Arcey."

Standing up, he approached her to bestow a respectful kiss upon her hand.

"Are you expecting Travis?" she asked, her tone softened. She instantly recollected Lady Kendall's mention that her nephew was staying at Corinne's residence, being earlier invited by Travis.

"Nay, he has been called away to one of his estates due to some pressing matters. I doubt he shall return tonight. Nonetheless, he kindly permitted me to remain here until my wounds heal," Evan replied.

"What wounds are those?" Corinne inquired further as her brows arched.

"Sustained during a brawl at the tavern. I found myself in a skirmish over a fiery-haired harlot," Evan responded nonchalantly.

The Dowager Marchioness chuckled.

"How candid," she remarked before returning her attention to the cabinet that had once held an array of alcoholic beverages.

"People speak of your penchant for strong drink," he suddenly interjected, as if he could read her mind.

"And they speak of you as the most exemplary nephew," Corinne retorted, her pride slightly wounded by his remark.

Evan chuckled. "Are you searching for this?" he asked, mischief dancing in his eyes.

Corinne turned and noticed he held a small silver flask that gleamed in the candlelight. Her lower lip moistened instinctively, and her resolution to distance herself from the allure of spirits wavered.

"Come and claim it," Evan gestured with the flask, a broad smile adorning his face. "I perceive your desire for a hearty sip, and this vessel contains the most exquisite whisky, I assure you."

With measured steps, Corinne approached Evan, though a sense of unease lingered. As Evan settled back onto the couch, his challenging gaze locked onto hers. Bending down to retrieve the flask from his hand, she was taken aback when he suddenly exclaimed, "What's the matter, you wretched woman?!"

"Sir, what–" she began to protest, but her words were swiftly stifled as his unoccupied hand roughly seized a fistful of her hair, tugging her towards him.