Page 5 of A Rogue to Reform

“I was not aware you were to attend this ball.” He turned, took the young woman’s hand, and lifted it to his lips. While leaning over it, he looked up to meet Grant’s sister’s familiar green eyes.

His breath left, as he wasn’t prepared for how much she had changed in the two years she’d been gone.

Felicity Murray had blossomed into a breathtaking beauty without compare. Despite knowing her for years, he would have been hard pressed to recognize her unless, like that moment, she’d spoken first.

Her face had lost its childish roundness and was now oval-shaped. Her lips remained plump, and her eyes, those entrancing bright green eyes, were accentuated with long, lush eyelashes. Dressed in a spellbinding light-pale-green gown, raven black hair was pulled up into an elaborate hairstyle.

She was magnificent.

The beauty arched a brow. “Cat got your tongue?”

“I am busy,” he managed. “I was not aware that you were in town. Grant did not say.”

Sparing him a glance, she leaned forward to look and see what he could have been spying. Evan cursed inwardly, as the widow and her companions had yet to move.

“She is a good target for someone like you. However, I doubt Sorcha Robertson will give you the time of day.”

Despite himself, he had to ask. “Why do you think that?”

Felicity’s eyes sparkled with mirth. “Because everyone is aware of your reputation. The only way to gain her trust would be to visibly change something about yourself.”

Just then a robust man he did not recognize neared. “Miss Murray,” the man said with a gallant, overly done bow. “I beg the honor of a dance tonight.” He glanced at Evan with a silent, “Go away.”

“Have we met?” Evan said, lifting a brow.

“Harvey Lewiston,” the man said, and then returned his attention promptly to Felicity, who’d yet to speak.

Evan knew of Lewiston, a man with a reputation for business dealings that were barely legal enough to keep him from prison. The man was short and heavyset. He had shrewd eyes, a thick neck, and heavy jowls, which made him seem older than his early forties.

“Miss Murray?” Lewiston’s lips curved, showcasing crooked, yellowed teeth.

As if on cue, a waltz commenced. Felicity spun around and grabbed Evan’s arm. “Perhaps later, Mister Lewiston. I have just promised Mister Macleod first and second dances.”

She all but dragged him away, but not in the direction of where people had begun dancing. They went through an arched doorway to a room with beautifully framed oil landscapes on the walls.

“I can help you gain the widow’s trust. But you must help me in return.” Felicity paced, every so often looking toward the ballroom. “I will assist in your quest to get Sorcha Robertson’s attention. In return…”

He crossed his arms. “I do not require your help.”

The sooner he returned to the ballroom and his objective the better. He did not have time for a distraction. Despite finding Felicity to be astoundingly beautiful, he would never dare attempt to even pretend to court her.

Grant would not only kill him, but he’d draw and quarter him first.

“Enjoy your evening Felicity,” he said, and headed back toward the crowded ballroom.

The music and conversations flowed toward him as he stood at an archway. Harvey Lewiston came to him. “Where is Miss Felicity?”

“She has an aversion to horrible breath and had to go for fresh air after speaking to you.”

The man’s face contorted. “Childish insults will not help you win in this, Evan Macleod. Your roughish reputation is against you.”

Indeed, the man’s breath was rather repugnant, making Evan wonder what he ate. “Rather a rogue than smelling like a rotting corpse.”

At the comment, the man huffed and turned away. A few steps later, he blew into his hand and sniffed.

Evan chuckled.

“Mister Macleod, I am told you wished to speak to me.” The woman’s husky voice was as alluring as the lowcut bodice of her tangerine dress.