by Reid, Stacy
“I…” Evie paused. “I never expected such a gathering.”
“You could always decline to play.”
“I believe I am looking forward to trumping you.”
He smiled, a dare she hardly understood glowing in the depths of his golden eyes. They arrived at the small gathering, and introductions were made. All the adults were members of his staff, and she could hardly credit they were on the lawns playing on their half day. The other children looked at her with curiosity. Nonetheless, no one asked any questions, just welcomed her with smiles and curtsies.
The teams were picked, ten to each side, and Emily crowed to be on the same one as Evie. She eased her slippers from her feet and set them aside, ignoring Richard’s pointed stare at her stocking clad feet. The grass was soft beneath her soles, and she walked to take her position as the batsman. There was a crude wicket in place, and the other team was spread in their strategic spots to try and catch the ball after she had hit it. Richard walked into his zone, and Evie gripped her bat and shifted, waiting for him to bowl the ball. He rocked back on his heel and allowed the ball to soar with strength. It sailed toward her with such speed, but she narrowed her gaze, aimed, and wacked it away with all her might.
There was a pulse of silence as the ball whizzed through the air, sailing far out into the field. The footman, who’d been introduced as Jeremy, ran to catch her ball, but it sailed over his head. A raucous cheer went up from her team watching from the sideline, and Evie dashed toward Richard and back to her wicket, trying to make as many runs as possible. On her way back, the footman threw the ball, and her legs pumped with the need to make it to her wicket before he outed her.
“Overthrow,” her team crowed. As the ball sailed over her wicket out into the field, another footman scrambled to retrieve it before she made any more runs. Making a split-second decision, Evie drew her dress scandalously above her knees and ran back toward Richard, hoping to make another two runs before they tried to out her.
Her team went wild with excitement, and exhilaration pumped through her blood as she made it back to her wicket in the nick of time. Evie threw back her head and laughed at the stupefied look on Richard’s face.
She winked at him and positioned to bat again. I’ll beat you, she mouthed.
Warm admiration lit within his eyes as he rolled his shoulders and resumed bowling.
Two hours later the game was over, the staff had returned to their duties, and the children were swimming in the distance under the watchful gaze of their governess. Evie was wrecked, splayed indecorously on the blankets under the tall willow tree. Richard was only a mere foot away, his back against the bark of the tree, one muscular leg sprawled outward and the other drawn up.
Evie bit into a chicken leg, uncaring of the indelicate way she ate. She felt so free in this moment to just be herself without the reproachful gaze of Mamma upon her person. Her dear mamma would have fainted if she’d seen the way Evie had played just now. She had been determined to beat Richard’s team and had shouted her triumph along with the children as they had won by a mere two runs.
It was a good day, indeed.
“I never knew you played cricket,” he said, his eyes caressing along her frame.
“I daresay there are depths to me you haven’t explored yet.”
The sudden tension in him was palpable, and his eyes darkened with dangerous heat. “Is that an invitation, Evie?”
“Hmm,” she said noncommittally. “We have always been honest with each other, haven’t we?”
“I should hope so.”
“There is an undeniable attraction between us,” she said softly. “Won’t you agree?”
“Yes.”
“There are rumors floating in the ton that you are seeking a wife.”
His dark head tilted arrogantly. “Rumors? Come now, Evie, I expect better of you than to listen to bored ladies’ idle speculations.”
Blast the man. “Is there veracity to the rumors or not?”
“It is the reason I am attending a few balls and outings for the season. Emily will eventually need more…more than I alone can give her,” he said softly. “Though my logical mind tells me that, I cannot push aside the aversion I feel at the notion of marrying.”
He’d told her once of his desire to marry the beautiful socialite Lady Trenear. There had been nothing but chilling indifference in his voice when he spoke of her perfidy. Was his aversion because he mistrusted women?
“You said you did not offer for me because I am a darling of society.”
He slid her a considering glance. “I deduce we are going to have a conversation about it?”
She pursed her lips at his bland tone. “Yes.”
He bit into an apple, crunching for a few seconds before speaking. “Then get on with it.”
“You are truly insufferable at times.” She reached for an apple and bit into it, carefully ordering her thoughts. She had been determined to inform him of the mystery gentleman she wanted to ensnare. “Is that your only objection to a match between us?”
Subtle tension wove through his body. “I was not aware there was a speculation about us joining.”
“I think after our moment in the carriage it bears such speculation, don’t you?”
Heat flared in his gaze before a neutral mask settled on his face. “We would be a most imprudent match, Evie.”
“We’ve been friends for years, and I daresay we have wonderful conversations, and I quite like your kisses.” She bit the inside of her cheeks as her body flamed with heat. Drat. The last thing she wanted at this moment was to be blushing like a virginal miss. She needed to be confident, blasé even, on equal footing with Richard’s arrogant countenance.
“I have no intention of being miserable in marriage when I do take the plunge.”
With a gasp, Evie threw the half-eaten apple at him, which he ducked, chuckling.
“How could you say such a horrid thing, as if being married to me is such a wretched idea?”
“If we are being frank, the idea of having you in my bed forever is quite delightful.”
His reluctant admission cheered her slightly.
“But that delight would be short-lived.”
She arched a brow. “And why is that?”
“There isn’t any one reason why we would be an imprudent match.”
The words caught her sharply in the chest. “It seems you have thought about courting me.”
“You want love, Evie. I know you well enough—you have a romantic soul.”
She swallowed, understating his objection with those few words. I do not love, nor trust. “I see, and you do not believe love and trust may grow over time in a union?” she asked, though her heart rejected the very idea. She wanted the same burning hunger she had in her soul for him, from the start.
His eyes shadowed. “Perhaps. It is evident to me you would expect me to honor my vows, to honor you with love. I will, in turn, expect you to cross the social divide and use your wit and influence to fight for those less fortunate, to love my daughter and the children I’ve adopted as your own. We are worlds apart, as silly as the notion seems.”
“You would not be faithful to your marriage vows?” she asked, appalled at his outrageousness. Many had labeled him a degenerate, a profligate libertine, and never had it been more obvious.
“I do not believe in the idiocy of love, Evie, so I am not constrained by its boundaries. I have lovers.”
“Surely your wife will expect…”
“I have no expectation that my wife will be faithful, either.” His voice was threaded with steel. “I am certain you would be miserable in such a union, don’t you agree? How long would it be before we turn on each other with our anger and bitterness? And for what would we have ruined our unmatched friendship?”
Evie’s throat closed. How silly of her. Only a few wives in the ton had expectations of faithfulness. Men with mistresses and ladies with discreet lovers were frequent and even normal. “I cannot beli
eve it of you.”
She poured wine into a glass with hands that trembled. Not once had the thought crossed her mind. He would keep a mistress, several even, because he had no intention to love and honor his wife.
Her composure had been rattled, her belief in his honor shaken, and she struggled for equanimity, centering her thoughts on his expectation of a wife. “You’ve adopted all the children? That is what Emily meant when she said they were her brothers and sisters? They are not your…not your…”
“My other bastards?” A rough laugh issued from him. “No, I am not that much of a degenerate.”
She drew in a hard, deep breath as she looked away from his probing regard. “And you would expect your wife…to claim them as her own, despite their dubious connections and bloodlines, and the fact they will never be a part of…well, a part of her…your…blast it.”
A mocking glint entered his eyes. “I see you comprehend my reasoning.”
Evie stared at him helplessly. If he ever attempted to seek better positions for them, they would be the object of scorn and unceasing gossips. Knowing Richard, he would not be content with growing them to be mediocre in any respect, and dear heavens, the ton would crucify him for daring to elevate those so evidently below them in wealth, circumstance, and reputation. The children had no distinction of birth to recommend them. They would be treated with such incivility. His wealth and privilege of rank somewhat protected Richard even with his notorious deeds, but would that security extend to his daughter and the other children? “I believe your wife would be willing to compromise.”
His lips curved into a hard smile. “When it comes to my children there will be no compromise.”
“Surely—”
“None,” he said flatly, his countenance suddenly hard and unforgiving.
Her heart stammered. After a few beats of silence that seemed to drag on forever, she slid her hand across the blanket and skimmed her fingers over his knuckles, never taking her eyes from his. “I would stand by you,” she said softly, burying the unease that flared to life with her promise.
He leaned in, effortlessly tugging her to him. Their lips were distressingly close. Then she felt the heat of his lips. It was barely a whisper of touch, a light brush of his mouth against hers.
“Unreservedly, Evie? Would you walk freely with them in Hyde Park? Take them to the gardens and museums?”
She was without an assurance, nor could she speak to him of a compromise in the form of a gradual introductions, and she hated that.
“I can see the fear in your eyes, Evie, the uncertainty wrought from your thoughtless promise. I would not hold you to such a pledge.”
With a soft gasp, she withdrew from him, despising there was truth in his assessment. Though there were merits in his concerns, she knew her heart. Somehow, she would eventually find a way to make everyone happy. If only he believed such a thing possible.
Did he truly have any intention to marry…ever? The realization struck her forcibly. He may never take the final step to a wedded state, and she finally understood his delay in offering for lady Honoria or anyone else. Unaccountably her assessment was pleasing.
“I must go, it is getting quite late.”
He watched her carefully. “Emily is quite eager to have you dine with us.”
Evie glanced down at her stained dress and ruined stockings.
“We do not stand much on formality here.”
“I assure you I will not be down to dinner looking bedraggled, but I shall not disappoint Emily. If you send off a letter for me to Adel with urgency, I will request one of my gowns to be sent down with haste.”
Relief, approval, and something far warmer burned in the depths of his devilish eyes. It should have made Evie unaccountably wary, for it was quite evident he truly had no intention of ever marrying any time soon. Her continued presence at his home after such a revelation without a chaperone left her wide open to being ravished.
The notion should have petrified her; instead, she could feel the erotic charge emanating from him. She wanted to explore his desires at least once before she was compelled to return to her dutiful cage again—more balls and routs, perhaps another season, and then to get on with selecting a beau with wealth and bloodlines. Unless seducing his body was the pièce de résistance in her efforts to secure his hand. Perhaps it was time she played the scoundrel.
Oh, my foolish, foolish and stubborn heart.
…
Richard strolled across the lawns, three great wolfhounds bounding around his heels. Peals of laughter shrieked in the distance from the children, and he wondered if Kencourt Manor had ever echoed with such good cheer and delight. Evie was bent over, laughing and holding her sides in merriment, and there was some pantomime from the children. She glanced in his direction, and her eyes lit with a heated welcome. He felt his whole body tightening in response to that smile. At that moment, he could picture her at his side forever, and his mouth went dry.
I think after our moment in the carriage it bears such speculation, don’t you?
Could he truly take Evie to be his wife? His lover…yes, but a more permanent union that had the power to turn bitter and ugly with failed expectations? Would she ever be happy with a life away from the glittering whirl of society, spending most of the year in the country? Many lords and ladies already clamored to be invited to dinner parties and soirees she hosted with the countess. Would she truly stand at his side forever as he’s derided for mixing with those perceived to be inferior? Was she really capable of adding her voice, her charm, and wit to his? The fear in her eyes had been telling. Her lack of rebuttal had been a kick to his gut, though he had expected it.
Two of the massive dogs bounded over to her, and she dropped to her knees in the grass and scratched behind the great brutes’ ears, laughing when they tried to slobber on her chin and woofing right along with them. Her bonnet had long been discarded, her hair a wonderful mess, and there were even a few splotches of dirt on her dress. In that very moment, she challenged everything he had believed in her aloof gentility. The emotions twisting through his heart felt frightfully like…like…love.
God’s blood.
He swiped a hand roughly over his face. Clearly, he was losing his damn senses. Despite being the devil earlier with Evie, he’d never given much thought to his fidelity when he took the plunge, but during their discourse, the idea of acting inconstant like the hypocrites of the ton had left a vile taste on his tongue. He would never dishonor vows made to his wife by taking a mistress, even if that marriage proved to be a hell, which was why he had to be sure of the woman he chose, especially for his daughter’s sake. He didn’t want to raise the children in a torn and cold relationship. The wife he selected had to be able to withstand the harsh reality of his life and be strong of character to respect and honor their vows. Or perhaps, he should trust that he would be enough for his daughter. Biting back a curse, he pushed away the thoughts of taking the easy path.
Richard was not particularly pleased with the questions stirring in his heart, for he had no immediate answer, and he was too decisive to torment himself with doubts.
He smiled as his daughter tipped her head to the sky and chortled. What elicited such a reaction, he couldn’t imagine, but he wanted to hold Evie and kiss her, for not being as standoffish and concerned with decorum as he had always anticipated.
The harsh upbringing Emily had endured had left scars on her soul, ones he prayed would be healed in time. All the children he rescued were haunted, but his special eight resided in a corner of his heart, and no disparagement could detach them from him.
“A note has been sent to Rosette Park,” he said, helping Evie stand.
“Thank you. The children and I were about to head inside.” Thunder rumbled in the distance, and she lifted her head to the sky. “I believe we shall have rain soon,” she said with a delighted grin.
Emily skipped over to him. “Did you know Lady Evie plays the pianoforte and knows how to ride side saddle,
Papa?”
He could form no response and barely managed a grunt.
“I would like to know how to ride like a lady,” his daughter said with a sweet, shy smile. “Perhaps you could join us in Hyde Park one morning and teach me, Lady Evie.”
Richard was discomfited at the eager manner in which his daughter wanted Evie in her life, but what chilled his soul was Evie’s hesitation. There it is…the fear of being seen with his brood by society.
He hardened his heart against the foolish desires that had been bubbling through his thoughts. No matter how much he lusted after Evie and how delicious she had looked condescending to play with his children, the toast of society could never be the right wife for him.
Chapter Eleven
Evie leaned her head back against the cushions on the chaise lounge in the library and watched the candle flames chasing the shadows around the room. Steady drops of rain pinged against the window, the sound soothing to her senses. Dinner had been a lovely, boisterous affair with rousing, albeit noisy, conversations with the children. There had been Julia and Juliette, the nine-year-old spirited twins, Clara and her older brother James—who acted as if he trusted no one. Evie had spied the knife he kept in the sleeve of his shirt. The somber and protective Jack, who only seemed to smile when Emily laughed and had eyes older and wiser beyond his ten years of age. And the eldest children at twelve were Thomas and Henrietta. Richard cared deeply for them all, and he was openly delighted by his daughter. In all, her visit proved to be a most enchanting day.
They all had been so delightful, and it did not escape Evie that her mother would never invite them to her table. They were too common, too vulgar, their connections too dubious for them to be accepted by her society. Her mother was not a woman of strong understanding.
I will, in turn, expect you to cross the social divide and use your wit and influence to fight for those less fortunate, to love my daughter and the children I’ve adopted as your own.