Free The Rebel Heir by Elizabeth Michels Page A

disappointment and abandoned Evangeline’s hair.
    Evangeline took the smallest breath she dared, keeping her gaze on the scene outside the window as her mother continued to circle. “Mother, are you ever concerned that my future husband won’t know me at all if I only recite practiced lines?”
    â€œKnow you?” Her mother laughed, a rattling hiss of breath from behind Evangeline that sent chills down her spine. “That scarcely matters. We can’t allow your future to rest upon a gentleman’s interest in your mind.” She’d reached a point in front of Evangeline and stopped her slow, circling pace. Grasping Evangeline’s chin between her fingers, her mother examined her face, pulling it this way and that with a painful grip. “You are the favored lady of the season. You have your appearance. That is all that matters.” She released her pinching grasp and continued to move in her slow circle.
    Evangeline pulled herself straight. Her marriage would be built upon which gown she wore and a few comments on the weather. She had known that truth for some time. But she still found it as bothersome as a wrinkle in the foot of one’s stocking that couldn’t be remedied without removing a shoe in public. Only this wrinkle would last a lifetime stuffed into the sole of an ill-fitting boot. There was nothing to be done for it. She’d once acted against her mother’s wishes and almost destroyed her family in the process. Years later, she was still paying the price for her rebellion.
    â€œWe can’t have you opining on the specifics of trees. Gentlemen might think you too wrapped up in troublesome thoughts. It’s best to keep to the words I wrote for you. Now begin again.”
    â€œLord Winfield, it’s pleasant to see you today…” Evangeline paused and looked at her mother. “I could continue this practice alone. I wouldn’t want to disrupt your morning.”
    But when her mother inhaled a great breath, puffing up like a bird that was about to go on the attack, Evangeline knew she’d gone too far.
    â€œAfter your disregard for the rules at last night’s ball? Retrieving your father when you knew very well you were to dance the waltz with Lord Winfield later in the evening. The last waltz! He’s a marquess! I need to sit. Ring for tea.” She waved Evangeline away. “Of all the foolish decisions you’ve made, this may well be the worst. You are more like your sister than I realized. Not to worry, though. We can be rid of those similarities with just the smallest bit of effort on your part.” Her mother heaved a weary sigh and sat on the edge of the nearest chair.
    â€œI thought you’d signaled you were ready to leave,” Evangeline said, attempting to justify her actions before the situation became worse. “It was out of concern for you that I gathered Father.” She took her time in ringing for tea to hide the truth on her face.
    â€œLeeeeave?” Her mother drew the word out in her outrage. “Why would I wish to leave?”
    This discussion was careening in an unpleasant direction. Why had she thought she could slip upstairs after Lord Crosby without notice? That one reckless decision could cost her the season. This year was her chance to find a husband and start anew. She couldn’t lose it for the likes of Crosby. “Perhaps you grew weary or had a headache.”
    â€œAny such state is occurring now because of you. I thought your training had prepared you for this season. Clearly I was mistaken. There will be extra lessons every morning. We cannot have a repeat of your summer of madness.”
    â€œYes, Mother.” Evangeline’s throat tightened around the words. She’d known this reminder was coming, but it always hurt nonetheless. She had spent all her days like this since that summer, the summer of her twelfth year, gaining favor with her mother to survive the