Page 3 of To Love a Beast

"As you wish." Everett offered a tight smile, wishing it wasn't his duty as a gentleman to see to the lady's needs ahead of his own. "I'm nearly finished, anyway." And was determined to complete the image in record time.

Resuming his work, he turned back to the eyes. He'd just add a few lashes and . . .

"Elsie? I'm growing chilled. Fetch my shawl, please."

Everett's head shot up. No, no, no. He couldn't be left alone with this woman. If someone found them together, he would be expected to offer for her. When he didn't—for nothing could convince him to tie his life to a woman whose sanity seemed questionable and whose mother insisted on controlling every aspect of her life—his chances of marrying into the Four Hundred would disintegrate, and his mother would never forgive him.

Before he could offer a word of protest, however, Elsie scurried from the room as if her promise to Mrs. March meant nothing. As if this had been the plan all along. Squirrel in the kitchen. Ha! The girl had probably turned the rodent loose in there herself. Well, Everett wouldn't be playing by their rules. Not anymore.

He closed his sketchbook. "I'm sorry, Miss March, but I must insist I take my leave. You might not be aware, but it is improper for the two of us to be without a chaperone. I will not risk sullying your reputation by staying."

"Wait, please." She leaned across the space between them and clasped his hand, her grip surprisingly strong. "I had to see you alone. Just for a moment." She cast a quick glance toward the door the maid had inconveniently shut then focused again on his face. "I received your message."

Message?

"I think you must be mistaken. I never sent you a message, Miss March."

"You did! At the musicale. Our eyes met as I sang. I saw the music seep into your soul, and I knew at that moment that we were destined to be together."

Everett tugged his hand from hers and gained his feet. "I have a heart for music, and I admit that I enjoyed your song very much, but that is all it was to me—a song."

"Liar!" Lillian lurched to her feet, her eyes blazing. "You told me you loved me. That you would move heaven and earth to be with me."

She was mad. "I said no such thing." He retrieved his case. He needed to get out of here. Now.

"Not with your voice," she said. "With your heart. I heard it. In my mind. Just like Jane Eyre heard her beloved Edward call to her heart from miles away."

"Jane Eyre is a work of fiction." He fumbled with the strap on his case, his fingers shaking as he tried to get it open.

"It was real. I heard you. And then today, when you offered me this rose, I heard you again." She waved the flower in his face as if it were a magic wand that would make her delusions true. "You proposed marriage—secretly—so Mama wouldn't hear. And I accepted. We are destined to be together, Everett. Forever."

"You misunderstood." The strap finally unfastened. "I did not propose. I'll never propose." Turning his back on her, he flung his case onto the seat of his chair and flipped open the lid. "You are a delightful lady," he said in an effort to appease her wounded pride, "but I'm afraid we do not suit." He tossed his pencil inside, not taking the time to slide it into its protective slot, and shoved the sketchbook in after it.

"Who is she?" Lillian seethed behind him. "Who stole your heart from me? Was it Mary Featherington? I saw you dance with her at the Vanderbilt ball. Or Constance Applewhite?"

"No woman owns my heart," he insisted as he slammed the lid shut.

"You're a disgrace! Toying with women's affections."

Deciding to forgo the strap, Everett tucked the case under his arm and turned to flee. The glint of light on polished silver flashed a second before a heavy object smashed into the right side of his face.

Pain exploded as something cracked beneath his eye. Bone. The art case slid from his grasp. Everett stumbled backward. Tripped over the chair. Blood ran into his eye as he fell, blinding him.

"You beast!"

Another blow, this one slashing like broken glass across his face. He howled as his skin ripped. He turned from the pain, raised an arm to shield himself. But her claws found him, digging into his face like those of a wild animal.

She's going to kill me.

With a wounded roar, Everett raised up and shoved Lillian away from him. He scrambled to his feet, his vision blurred and his balance impaired as he staggered for the exit. Before he could reach the door, however, it flung inward. Mrs. March stood before him, eyes widening in horror.

"Lillian! Stop!"

Something crashed into his skull from behind. The smell of tea engulfed him as he crumpled to the carpet. Hot liquid scalded his face and neck, but the pain lasted only an instant before darkness claimed him.

Chapter 1

Denton, Texas, 1891