Twice the Temptation Page 9

  “I beg your pardon, then, Miss Munroe.” The maid dipped a curtsy.

  Evangeline stood. “No matter. And I suppose if the diamond is either bad luck or good luck for the wearer, we’ll find out tonight. I know quite well what Mama wants for me.”

  Surreptitiously Doretta crossed her fingers and turned a circle. Evangeline pretended not to notice—protection against even an imagined curse couldn’t hurt.

  The grandfather clock on the landing showed five minutes of eight as they descended the stairs. She wondered again why, precisely, Lord Rawley still wanted to provide her an escort tonight. As she recalled, the last thing she’d said to him had been “go away,” or something very close to that.

  If he meant to take the opportunity to tease her again for having a plan to secure her future, she would box his ears. Or she would bring up again the fact that they’d met because he’d been drunk and had fallen on her. If anyone deserved to be laughed at, it was him.

  As she reached the foyer, someone rapped at the front door. Her heart skittered—which annoyed her. Yes, his kiss had been the devil’s inspiration for thinking up sin, but he had nothing else in his favor at all.

  Clifford pulled open the door. “Good evening, my lord,” he said, bowing as he backed out of the doorway.

  “Good evening,” Connoll’s low drawl returned, and then the man himself stepped into the foyer.

  “Good—” Evangeline’s jaw dropped as she looked at him.

  “I assume you’re speechless in admiration,” he said, brushing at the powder-blue sleeve of his coat. “It is what you requested.”

  “But…but you said no,” she stammered. With light gray pants tucked into polished Hessian boots and a blue-thread paisley pattern on his cream-colored waistcoat, he looked like a dandy—a muscular, slightly dangerous one, but in those colors he couldn’t be anything else. The colors did have the effect of making his eyes look the deep blue of the top of the sky at noon; in fact, she could barely tear her gaze from his long enough to take in the rest of him.

  “I’ve decided that doing as you request is more pleasant than arguing,” he said easily.

  Her mother stepped out of the sitting room. “My,” she said after a moment. “The two of you look very well together.”

  “It was Evangeline’s idea,” Connoll replied. “She asked me to wear a coat that complemented her gown.” He smiled. “May I say, my lady,” he continued, “that necklace is exquisite.”

  The viscountess lowered her lashes, one hand fluttering up to touch the diamond. “Thank you, Lord Rawley. It’s a family piece.” After a glance about the small foyer, she gestured at the butler. “Go fetch Lord Munroe,” she instructed, “and tell him that if he isn’t prompt, we will leave without him.”

  Evangeline wiped the surprised, suspicious scowl off her face to look at Connoll. Rather than making a cynical comment about how much mother and daughter now resembled one another, however, he was looking at his reflection in the hall mirror. As she watched, he fluffed up one side of his cravat. As blue eyes caught hers in the mirror’s reflection, his smile deepened.

  “What?” she whispered, strolling up behind him.

  “You look lovely,” he returned. “I’m glad to be a planet orbiting in the light of your sun.”

  “Mm-hm.”

  Before she could comment further on that nonsense, her father appeared, hurrying down the stairs with Clifford on his heels. “My apologies, my love,” he said. “I was reading, and lost track of the time.”

  The viscountess gave him a dismissive look and turned for the entry. With the butler still halfway up the stairs, Connoll moved in to open the front door for her. As much as he’d meant to surprise Gilly tonight with his wardrobe and his cooperation, she’d surprised him, as well. He’d only gotten a glimpse of the diamond necklace the other night, but he recognized it—and he recognized that it was the viscountess wearing it, and not Evangeline.

  He wanted to ask her why, but that wouldn’t fit with his plan for the evening. And so he bit his tongue and smiled as he helped both ladies into his coach and then followed Lord Munroe inside. Wearing what he was to a very popular soiree was probably going to be the stupidest thing he’d ever done—except for getting drunk and falling on Gilly—but if his assessment was correct, giving her precisely what she claimed to want could be the very best way to prove that she was in error.

  She was gazing at him again, her expression still wary and suspicious. If she thought he meant to try something tonight, she was too late. They were already well into the game.

  “What were you reading that so engrossed you, Papa?” she asked after several moments of silence.

  The viscount stirred, sending a swift glance in his wife’s direction. “Ah, just the newspaper. A fascinating article on the reinstatement of the French monarchy once we’ve dealt with Bonaparte again.”

  Connoll lowered his brow, wishing everyone would stop talking about France, then smoothed the expression as the viscountess looked up at him and smiled. “That was kind of you to dress in coordination with Evangeline,” she said.

  “Oh, I worship your daughter,” he said, repeating what he’d heard Dapney say the other night. “I would do anything for her.”

  “Would you, now?”

  “Anything. Ask it of me.”

  “I’m sure that’s not necessary,” Gilly broke in to the conversation.

  “We might at least know what Lord Rawley’s intentions are toward you,” her mother countered.

  “Surely I’m not Miss Munroe’s only suitor. Though I am the most sincere, I assure you.” He clenched his jaw at the silliness spilling from his own lips. Whatever he was getting into, however, he’d already vowed to see it through. “My annual income is in the vicinity of twenty-five thousand pounds,” he said with every ounce of unctuousness he possessed—a means to an end. “I could provide her with anything she wanted. I would be happy to do so.”

  “Twenty-five thousand,” the viscountess repeated, her eyes growing larger. “And a marquis.”

  “My main estate in Devonshire is rumored to be the finest in three counties,” he continued. “My great-great-great-grandfather had it built in 1612.”

  “Your main estate? How many do you own?”

  “Well, four in Scotland,” he returned, ticking them off on his fingers, “one in Devonshire, one in York, and a seventh in Cornwall. And the two houses here in London, though I’ve given one over to my cousin and his family. They also have use of the estate in Cornwall. One can only live in so many places.”

  “Indeed.”

  Evangeline gazed at him, her lips pursed. “There are some rumors,” she said slowly, flicking her skirt, “that you recently spent some time in France, and that you have sympathies with Bonaparte and the French.”

  The little minx. “I have sympathyfor the French,” he answered, keeping his tone easy. “They will have a great deal of work ahead of them once Bonaparte’s been stopped.”

  From the flash of her hazel eyes, Gilly realized that he hadn’t answered the question of whether he’d been in France or not. To her credit, though, she didn’t pursue it further. He’d already told her that he would explain his whereabouts during their waltz tonight—and not a bloody second before that.

  “I don’t envy Wellington that task,” the viscount put in. “Bonaparte’s a popular fellow.”

  “There is nothing more tedious than politics,” Lady Munroe said airily. “I’ve heard that Lady Howlett actually has a tent erected in the stable yard to accommodate all of the additional servants and supplies needed for tonight.”

  “Indeed she does,” Connoll answered. “As a result, there is nowhere for the horses and coaches. The entire three streets surrounding Howlett House are jammed solid.”And I will look like a bloody sugar-glazed croissant in front of everyone .

  “That sounds very exciting.”

  “It is. Just watch where you step.”

  Gilly snorted, then coughed to cover it. “Thank you for
your advice, my lord.”

  “I mean to please.”

  “So you say.”

  They had to stop the coach six houses away and walk. Connoll offered his arm, and after a barely noticeable hesitation, Gilly wrapped her fingers about his sleeve. He would have had them take the lead, but she pulled against him until her parents moved on ahead of them.

  “All right, what the devil are you up to, Connoll?” she whispered.

  “Nothing at all. I wish to be with you, and I’ve realized what you seek in a gentleman. I have become that.”

  “Just like that.”

  “Yes, just like that.”

  “I need to fix my gloves. Carry my reticule for a moment, will you?”

  Wordlessly, his eyebrow barely lifting, he took the strings from her fingers and held her small blue bag. At least it matched his coat. After fiddling with her white gloves for several moments too long, she sent him an annoyed sideways glance and held her hand out again.

  “I do hope no gentlemen attempt to crowd in for attention while I’m attempting to greet my friends. I rather dislike being interrupted.”

  So this was what he was in for tonight. “Am I permitted a space on your dance card?”

  “What if I say no?”

  Connoll stifled the urge to grab Gilly and kiss her until her senses either appeared or left her—the opposite of whatever condition she was in now.Patience . He could be patient. That was how he’d acquired some of his most precious paintings and antiques, and it was how he would win Evangeline Munroe.

  He shrugged. “If you say no, then we shan’t dance.”

  “Aha! That’s what you want, isn’t it, so you won’t be obligated to tell me about your sojourn to France?”

  “IfI was in France,” he pointed out. “But I’m not opposing you at all, Evangeline. If you wish to dance, we shall. If you don’t, we won’t.”

  “And you’ll abandon my parents and me here.”

  “I will escort you home regardless. That is a matter of honor. And with that, there is no playing about.”

  From the look she gave him, he might have spoken too forcefully. But considering how they’d met, the point he most wanted her to understand was that hewas a man of honor. One who didnot make a habit of going about drunk in the middle of the morning.

  “Very well,” she said slowly. “I apologize for suggesting that you would do other than the proper thing.”

  Any other night he would have jumped on her apology as a way to prove that she wasn’t infallible. Tonight he smiled and stopped beside her parents to greet Lord and Lady Howlett. As he shook hands with Howlett, he drew a breath. The looks from Gilly were nothing compared to the ones he was beginning to receive now. Lights blazed from every window, and even at this early hour there were easily two hundred guests in attendance.Wonderful .

  It was for a good cause—or so he hoped. If Evangeline truly wanted a Lord Dapney or a Redmond, then he wanted no part of that misery. What he saw beneath her very stubborn exterior, though—the flashes of humor, the wit, the passion—caused him to believe that one night of dressing like a fop would be worthwhile if it helped him find a way to encourage her to keep those particular charms permanently on display.

  “My goodness, it’s warm in here,” Gilly said, fanning at her face with her free hand.

  “Shall I fetch you a lemonade?” he asked, wondering whether he should hunch his shoulders and look submissive.

  “That would leave me standing here by myself,” she returned.

  “Ah. Apologies. You were only priming the pump, so to speak, so you could be rid of me more efficiently later.” With a nod, beginning to find her little barbs and tests amusing, he gestured her to guide their forward progress. “I still have some things to learn, obviously.”

  “I was not priming anything. Stating the temperature does not equate with trying to be rid of you.”

  “Then I apologize again,” he said, offering her a slow smile as he realized that she was trying very hard to pick a fight with him. “I would never wish to upset you.”

  “Why not? That’s never troubled you before.”

  “Because I’ve learned that you don’t want a man who will—who might—upend your sensibilities.”

  Her eyes narrowed, but she didn’t seem to know what to say to him.Good . Before she could conjure something, a flock of her colorfully feathered friends surrounded her. That, then, would be his signal to go away and fetch some lemonade.

  Before he did that, though, he wanted a swallow of something stronger for himself. He signaled a passing footman, then sank back against the nearest wall to watch the proceedings.

  “I say,” a familiar voice drawled to his left, “I almost didn’t recognize you, Conn.”

  Connoll straightened, offering his hand. “Francis. I almost didn’t recognize myself.”

  “You’ll have to give me your tailor’s name,” the shorter man said in an obviously admiring tone. “I’ve never seen a more stunning ensemble.”

  This from the man who’d tried to start a fashion of pink cravats. “I’ll send you his card,” he said. In truth, this coat and waistcoat were two of the most expensive garments he owned—the consequence of giving his tailor less than forty-eight hours to put them together.

  “Did I see you arrive with Miss Munroe?” Henning continued.

  “You did.” He glanced at the abruptly uncomfortable look on his friend’s face. “Why?”

  “Oh. Nothing. Nothing, of course.”

  “Francis, save us both the time and bother and speak up.”

  Henning scowled. “Very well. I had luncheon today with Dapney and his cronies. He, ah, mentioned that he would be offering for Miss Munroe by the end of the month. He seemed to have some confidence that she would accept his proposal.”

  She probably would, if Connoll couldn’t convince her of what a miserable life she would be letting herself in for. “No worries, Francis. My eyes are open.”

  Henning rolled his shoulders. “Good, then. Because I—”

  “Thank you for telling me.”

  The plump fellow smiled. “Thank you for not killing the messenger.”

  At that moment Gilly looked in their direction and lifted an eyebrow. “If you’ll excuse me,” Connoll said, handing Francis his glass of port, “I’m being summoned.”

  “You—oh. Of course.”

  Francis wasn’t the only one surprised that he’d so readily put himself at someone’s beck and call. More bothersome, though, was that Connoll could see her mother’s mannerisms emerging as he became one of the empty-headed enthralled. If Gilly didn’t learn or at least comprehend the lesson tonight, he would have to consider her cause a lost one. And that would be a damned bloody shame.

  “Here you go, Miss Munroe,” he said with his brightest smile, delivering her a glass of lemonade.

  “There you are,” she returned, taking the glass. “I’d begun to wonder where you’d run off to.”

  Strictly speaking he’d been away from her side for less than five minutes. Since he refused to argue, though, he only dipped his head. “It does seem an eternity since I last stood beside you. My deepest apologies. I didn’t intend to leave you stranded.”

  Evangeline actually batted him on the arm. “You are too amusing, Lord Rawley. It was only lemonade, after all.” She gestured at a tall, spindly girl standing beside her. “Have you met Leandra Halloway? No? Leandra, Lord Rawley. Connoll, Miss Halloway.”

  He took the girl’s hand, finding it trembling. “Miss Halloway. Your uncle is the famed mathematician, is he not? Robert Halloway?”

  She smiled shyly. “Yes. He’s working on a new project at Oxford.”

  “His economic theories are fascinating. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

  “Thank you, my lord.”

  Gilly cleared her throat. “I thought,” she said, sending a glance from Connoll to her friend, “that as I will be dancing the first waltz of the evening with Lord Dapney, you might partner with L
eandra.”

  That bloody interloper. “I would be honored, if Miss Halloway is available.”

  “Oh,” the chit squeaked. “I am. Available, I mean.”

  “Splendid.” As the herd began giggling again, he took a step closer to Gilly. “May I see your dance card?”

  “Afraid you’ll lose the second waltz?” she murmured, handing it over.

  “I’m just hoping the curious part of you outweighs the nonsensical one that wants to dance with Dapney,” he returned in the same tone. The space next to the second waltz remained empty, and he wrote his name there in pencil. “Shall I make myself scarce until then?”