Twice the Temptation Page 8
“But—”
“We’ve already established that I’m escorting you to the Howlett ball on Friday, and that you’re wearing blue and I’m not. We’ll dance there.”
“That was a hypothetical situation.”
“Not if you want me to answer your question.”
She sputtered. “Oh, very well.”
“Excellent.” He grinned again. “Have some cheese.”
“There you are,” Lewis Blanchard said, pausing beside a potted palm tree. “What the devil are you doing skulking in the shrubbery?”
Connoll grabbed his friend’s shoulder and yanked him behind the fronds. “I’m observing unseen. If you stand out there and talk to me, people will either think you’re mad or they’ll see me. While I don’t mind the former, the latter could be slightly embarrassing.”
“What are you observing, then?” the earl boomed in his version of a whisper.
“Lower your damned head. You look like a lighthouse.”
Somehow Lord Ivey managed to fold most of himself behind the palm tree. “Good God. I think I’ve broken my spine. What are you looking at?”
“Not what. Whom. Miss Munroe.”
“Your Miss Munroe?”
He liked the way that sounded, though Gilly would be the first one to correct that misapprehension if she ever heard it. “Yes, my Miss Munroe. Hush.”
“But—”
“I’m also listening.” He’d spent evenings in an odder fashion than this, he supposed, but not recently. After going to the bother of securing an invitation to a very loud and long-winded lecture on Shakespearean metaphor, he should at least be flinging similes about the room. That, however, would have defeated his purpose in being there, which was nothing more and nothing less than deciphering young Miss Munroe.
It seemed she’d coerced the equally youthful Lord Dapney into accompanying her this evening. Even without being able to overhear every word of their conversation, Connoll had no doubt that Dapney fell into the same category as Redmond—the half-wit adored Gilly. At that moment the viscount trudged back to her circle of friends, his arms laden with drinks.
“Oh, thank you, my lord,” Evangeline said with a brief smile. “They hadn’t any Madeira, then? I do prefer that, you know.”
“My apologies, Miss Munroe,” Dapney stammered. “I hadn’t thought to inquire. I’ll return directly.” He scurried off again.
“YourMiss Munroe has another suitor,” Lewis noted.
“She has several,” Connoll said absently.
As she half faced him again, he got his best look yet at the jewel glittering against the base of her throat. The diamond. Everyone she’d encountered had taken turns admiring it, but no one had dropped dead or gone blind. She certainly didn’t look cursed, herself; actually, seeing her in the soft green silk that lightened the hazel of her eyes, he could only describe her as stunning. His gut clenched.
Perhaps the curse was meant for him, to tangle her into his thoughts and dreams until he went mad from seeing her and knowing she wanted someone else. And the someone she wanted—he didn’t consider himself particularly vain, but why in God’s name would she prefer either Redmond or Dapney over him? At least he had a full share of wits.
“Isn’t that Dapney?” the earl whispered, as the lad returned with her requested drink. “The one who slammed his yacht into a bridge piling an hour after he took possession of it?”
“That’s him.”
He felt Lewis’s gaze on him. “Oh.”
“Shut up.”
Gilly accepted the drink, taking a dainty sip. “I’ve heard that the rose garden here is lovely,” she commented.
“Allow me to escort you on a tour,” Dapney said, reminding Connoll of a puppy trying to please its master. Or mistress, rather. “It would be my greatest honor.”
“A breath of fresh air would be welcome. Excuse us for a few moments, everyone.”
The two of them wandered off toward the back of the house. With a curse Connoll pushed past the earl. He knew why couples went to admire gardens in the middle of the night, and it wasn’t for the view.
“Conn, are you—”
“Apologies, Ivey. I need to go skulk elsewhere.”
Brushing past the behemoth, Connoll slipped around the fringes of the room toward the row of floor-length windows that lined the ground-floor entrance to the gardens. If Daisy had been in Lewis’s company, he never would have confessed to spying on Gilly. He wasn’t certain what he would have said in the face of Gilly’s obvious flirtation with Lord Dapney, but he knew how he felt. He didn’t like it. Not one damned bit.
He’d nearly reached the windows when a hand grabbed his arm. Scowling, he turned. “Francis. Didn’t expect to see you here tonight.”
“I was told the desserts were top-drawer,” Mr. Henning returned. “I think someone was bamming me. I ain’t even seen any desserts.”
The tail of Evangeline’s emerald gown disappeared through the windows. Bloody hell. “I thought I saw cake over by the hearth,” Connoll lied, sidestepping as Henning stampeded by him.
Before anyone else could detain him to ask for a report on the weather, he dodged outside, taking cover in the deep shadows of a hedge while he listened for Evangeline and the idiot with her. Unless she could see by the light of the half-moon and had a very large affection for roses, she was up to something. If it was an amorous tryst, he wanted to know, though in his mind he was already making excuses as to why in God’s name she would wish to be with Dapney and not him.
Slipping unnoticed past Lord Gunden and his latest mistress, Connoll made his way around the small pond to the back of the garden. As he heard Evangeline’s voice and a lower-toned answer, he moved in closer. Just behind a stand of red roses, he caught his sleeve on a clump of sharp thorns and stopped short.
“Damnation,” he muttered, yanking. The thorns, long and curved like the teeth of some carnivorous beast, dug in deeper, finding flesh.
“You know I live only to please you,” Dapney’s admiring voice came from the far side of a hedge.
By twisting sideways, Connoll could just make out the leafy outline of Gilly’s profile and the thicker bulk of the young oaf with her. Whatever they were up to, it seemed to involve sitting very close to one another on a stone bench.
“I know you do,” her rich voice came. “Andyou know that I must have someone in my life who will always look after me.”
What?Look after her? She’d several times demonstrated that she could take care of herself quite capably. Connoll pulled away again, and the tail of his coat flipped over another branch, tangling him further.
“I would die for you, Miss Munroe.”
Yes, but I’m the one who’s bleeding, Connoll supplied silently. Hodges was going to weep over the damage to his coat. Hearing Gilly spewing such nonsense and Dapney lapping it up, however, troubled him more.
It was the next sound, though, that froze him. Lips smacked against lips. He could just see Dapney pressed up against her. That bloody poacher. And that blasted minx. With a barely stifled growl he yanked himself backward, taking half the substantial rosebush with him.
“What was that?” Dapney’s voice came. “Is someone coming?”
“Oh, dear,” Gilly said. “You go back inside. I’ll follow a minute later. Hurry, my lord.”
Booted feet thudded down the path. With a last twist and a bad scratch across the back of his hand, Connoll managed to hurl the last stubborn branch away from him. “Your hero seems to have left you all alone in the dark,” he said, rounding the hedge to gaze at Evangeline.
She had her diamond necklace in her hand, her reticule open as she dropped it inside. For a bare second she froze, her mouth forming a surprisedoh , before she pulled the strings of her bag closed. “You,” she breathed.
“Yes, me. Though with what I just overheard I have no idea why
I bothered to make an appear—”
Evangeline lunged at him, grabbing his shoulders and yanking him down to cover his mouth with hers. To keep his balance Connoll flung an arm out to grab a branch of the nearest elm tree, pressing her back against the solid trunk as he deepened the kiss.
She moaned, clinging against him.Christ . “What the devil are you up to?” he managed around a dozen deep, rough kisses.
“I like the way you kiss,” she whispered against his mouth.
“What else?”
Lifting her face, breathing hard, she frowned at him. “What do you mean, ‘what else’? I’m not the one sneaking about in the shrubbery.”
“Yes, you are.”
Her cheeks darkened. “Oh, yes. I forgot. Still, at least I was on the path.”
Connoll gazed down into her pretty hazel eyes. “Have I mistaken something about you, Gilly?” he murmured.
“What do you mean? You surprised me at a…a weak moment.”
“More likely a rare moment of clarity.”
“What the devil are you talk—”
“Why Dabney, and why Redmond?” he interrupted. “And what makes you think I will happily dawdle about while you kiss one or the other of them?”
She let go of his shoulders and took a step backward. “I don’t need to explain myself to you.”
“Mm-hm. I notice that Lord Dapney wore green. That was at your request, I assume, to complement your own gown?”
“What if it was? Simply because you’re unwilling to grant me the tiniest request doesn’t mean that every other man is as arrogant and stubborn as you.”
Some things were beginning to make sense. Resisting the urge to rub at the scratches on his hand, Connoll continued to eye her. “That’s it, isn’t it? You’re trying to become your mother.”
“Don’t be absur—”
“You don’t want a lover, or even a husband. You want a servant. Someone to wear matching colors and fetch you things and be otherwise unobtrusive and unnoticed.”
She put her hands on her hips. “Go away.”
He laughed grimly, shaking his head. “If I’m wrong, then please correct me.”
“If you won’t leave, then I will.” With a stomp of her foot, she turned around and stalked back to the house.
Connoll watched her retreat to the safety of the yellow chandelier lights, then sat on the stone bench she and Dapney had vacated. Damnation. How could a woman as…obstinate and aggravating and intelligent as Evangeline Munroe want—not even just want, but actively seek—a mate who offered her nothing but a mindless shell? An income and a title, and…and what? An arm to hang on?
Whatever she looked for, it obviously wasn’t him. Which meant that he could either step back and let Redmond or Dapney have her, or he could step forward and prove to her that she didn’t know what she was doing.
He rubbed his hand across his mouth. Walking away without a fight—it wasn’t in his nature. And he wasn’t ready to let Evangeline Munroe get away, whatever she might think she wanted.
Chapter 7
“I don’t want to wear it,” Evangeline said,scowling at the wooden box resting on her dressing table.
“But everyone will be attending tonight,” her mother countered. “You’ll never have a better opportunity to show it off. Aside from that, you’ll look so elegant in a sapphire gown with a blue diamond necklace.”
“I’ve already decided to wear the pearls.” Rubbing the tips of her fingers nervously, she nudged the box farther away from her.
It could still all be coincidence, she supposed; in fact, it probably was. But with the Nightshade Diamond on she’d experienced two very unpleasant kisses and a proposal that pleased her much less than it should have. The moment she put the thing away, each time she did so, Connoll Addison appeared. And whether she happened to be angry with him or not, she didn’t like the idea of a jewel controlling when they were able to meet.
“But the Howlett soiree is legendary.”
She faced the viscountess. “Youshould wear it.”
“What? I couldn’t. Rachel gave it toyou .”
“And I’m saying it would look very nice on you tonight if you will accept its loan.”
Her mother gazed at the box. “It is a lovely piece.”
Burying her uneasiness, Evangeline lifted the box and handed it to her mother. “I’m still not certain about the whole curse nonsense, but I leave the choice up to you.”
“I think I will wear it, then.” With a rare grin, the viscountess took the box and opened it, removing the velvet bag. “Because the curse nonsense is just that, you know. Nonsense. I hope that’s not the reason you don’t wish to wear it.”
“Of course not.”
“And if it is bad luck,” her mother continued, “perhaps Lord Rawley’s coach will lose a wheel, and we’ll have to attend the ball without his escort.”
A shiver ran beneath Evangeline’s skin. The man had actually laughed at her the evening before last. She certainly hadn’t expected him to send over a note reminding her that he would be by at eight o’clock to escort her and her parents to the Howlett ball. The viscountess had suggested that she decline the invitation, but the more Evangeline considered it, the more she welcomed the opportunity to inform Connoll just how little she cared about his opinion.
Of course she didn’t want to marry a servant; a butler couldn’t make her a viscountess or a countess. If it made her mercenary to wish for a husband’s title but not his dictates or stupid opinions, then so be it. Probably the most efficient way to prove just that point would be for her to accept the next proposal either Redmond or Dapney handed her. But that would mean no more of those wondrous Connoll Addison kisses.
She scowled. After the other night, neither of them was likely to be kissing the other again, anyway. Doretta fastened the pearls around her neck, and she stood. “I don’t doubt that he’ll arrive late, regardless of luck,” she said to no one in particular.
“I don’t know why you accepted his offer of escort, anyway,” the viscountess responded, motioning for Doretta to assist her with the diamond. “Lord Redmond has a fine carriage.”
Admitting that she still wasn’t quite certain how it had happened would only earn her a lecture. “I couldn’t have declined his invitation without appearing rude,” she improvised.
“Perhaps he and your father will begin a conversation about horses or cigars or something, and they’ll leave us be. You know Lord Redmond will be attending, and so will Lord Dapney.”
“Lord Dapney had mentioned it,” Evangeline returned.
“Have you decided which of them you prefer? They both have their merits, I have to say.” The viscountess walked to the bedchamber door, pausing with her fingers on the handle. “Dapney will provide you with a longtime escort, and you’ll be able to guide the course of any investments, and social or political alliances. Redmond will most likely tire easily and will leave you to go to whichever soirees you choose and with whomever you choose, and of course you will have a very comfortable life as a wealthy widow.”
Now,that seemed a bit mercenary, making the older man’s death a part of her plan for a comfortable life. “I’m not in a hurry to decide,” she said slowly. “I don’t want to make the wrong choice, after all.”
“Very wise of you, my dear. I’ll see you downstairs.”
“Miss Munroe?” Doretta asked as the viscountess left the room. “If I’m not overstepping, do you think your diamond is cursed?”
“No. Of course not. People only spread those rumors so thieves won’t try to steal their valuables.”
“Then why did you take it off the other night?”
Why had she?She’d kissed Dapney once previously, and the sensation had been completely acceptable, if unexciting. The night of the Shakespearean discussion, though, she might as well have kissed a fish. Wet, amateurish, and awful. Yes, she’d pursued a match with him, but the idea that the diamond might…encourage him, encourage another proposal, had made her queas
y. And as soon as she took the thing off, there had been Connoll.
“I took it off,” she finally said, when she realized Doretta was still looking at her, “because I wanted to see what would happen. Nothing did, naturally, and then I forgot that I’d removed it.”
“Well, if you were to ask me, I think itis cursed. Before you had it, you were set on getting Lord Redmond to propose to you. Now, though, it’s not him you’re thinking about. And that willnot please your mama.”
“Now you’re overstepping, Doretta,” Evangeline said sharply, pulling on her white, elbow-length gloves. “Nothing has changed. I very likely will marry Lord Redmond. If before that I choose to indulge in a kiss or two with a very accomplished gentleman, that’s no one’s concern but my own.”