Senseless Sensibilities

by K. L. O'Keefe

“But not a word of this to anyone!” she warned him. “I would just die if you breathed a word of this to Nicholas or Mama!”

  “Then I better not say anything,” he said, his wicked smile returning. “I like you better when you’re alive.”

  And so he carried Evangeline, and Evangeline’s shoes, the rest of the way to Penworth Park.

  Chapter Twelve

  Anne Fremont enjoyed her peace and quiet. When she first arrived at Penworth Park, she thought the silence and loneliness would kill her. Over time, she learned to adapt. She learned to enjoy her life of comfortable solitude.

  Ever since Nicholas arrived, he had been nothing but a distraction. An unwelcome distraction. She wanted to move into the dowager house, but she knew her daughter would rebel against the idea. Evangeline was still determined to wed her second cousin.

  With a sigh, Anne laid her needlepoint on her lap. Whenever she thought about Nicholas, her fingers started to shake. She couldn’t lie to herself—she enjoyed the attention. She knew he was fooling with her, but how could she not enjoy it? She was three and forty, but it was the first time a young man had flirted with her.

  “But he’s not so young,” Anne whispered aloud, as if trying to convince herself to indulge in his attentions. But she wouldn’t give in to him. She couldn’t give in to him. A woman of her age didn’t have time to be silly. She was a respectable woman with impeccable morals, and that’s what she would always be.

  So why did he tempt her so?

  Anne clutched her neck, where the high neckline of her black dress engulfed her throat. She was a widow in mourning. She was a mother. He was fooling her. He was using her for sport. The thoughts in her head must have summoned him, because Nicholas appeared in the doorway, looking as handsome as ever. He strutted into the room with a wicked smile, like a rake in a room full of lightskirts.

  Anne greeted him with all the politeness she could muster. “Hello, Nicholas.” She picked up her needlepoint and resumed her sewing.

  “Hello, Anne.” He sat in the sofa across from her, leaning toward her with his elbows on his knees. “You’re looking lovely, as usual.”

  “The room is dark. I should open a window,” Anne answered weakly. “Let me assure you, I am anything but lovely.”

  “Let me assure you, you do not give yourself enough credit,” he countered. “Although, I am getting tired of seeing you dressed in black.”

  “Sorry to disappoint you, but I will have to wear black for the next several months. My husband’s death was relatively recent.” She kept her eyes on her needlepoint, refusing to look up at him. “I’m sure you haven’t forgotten that.”

  “No, of course not. How could I forget your husband?”

  When he was met with silence, Nicholas reclined, splaying his arms across the back of the sofa. He sat motionless for a few minutes, enjoying the tranquility, admiring her serene beauty. But he couldn’t stay silent for long. “Is your husband the reason behind the sadness in your eyes?” he asked. “I’ve often wished you would grant me a smile, but you seem so somber.”

  “I don’t smile unless I have a reason to.”

  “What about me? Could I ever be reason enough?” Nicholas asked, frowning. “I wish you would smile whenever you saw me. If you did, I would be the luckiest man in the world.”

  “You talk nonsense,” she said with a sigh. Did he ever give up? Was he the sort of man who longed for a challenge? The last thing she needed was a man to be interested in her, even if he was the handsomest man she had ever seen. It could only lead to heartache.

  Nicholas leaned forward again, languid in every movement. “Can I ask you a question of… of a personal nature?”

  “If you must.”

  “Did you love your husband?” he asked. “Do you miss him, now that he is gone?”

  “That is a very personal question,” she agreed.

  “If you don’t feel comfortable doing so, you don’t have to give me an answer. I won’t insist.”

  Anne’s back stiffened. This wasn’t a topic she cared to discuss with anyone, especially not with a man who made her skin prickle on sight. “I appreciated my husband. I appreciate the space he gave me, and the respect he showed me.”

  When she looked up, Nicholas’ eyebrows twitched. He was not satisfied with her answer.

  “Did I love him? I don’t think I did,” Anne answered abruptly. “When you spend so many years with a person, love isn’t necessary. Mutual respect can sustain a relationship.”

  “Did you ever love him?”

  “No, I didn’t,” she confessed. “Now, please… if you insist on staying here, can we talk about something else?”

  He hated to be the source of her discomfort. Even more so, he hated the unspoken questions in his head. There were so many things he wanted to say to her, and he was tired of holding back. “I’m sitting here with a woman who, to my eye, is the epitome of perfection. And you’re telling me she has never known love?”

  “Nicholas, why--”

  “I want to show you love. And passion. I want to show you passion. If your husband never showed you those things, he’s a fool.”

  “He’s dead,” she reminded him. “You should not speak ill of him.”

  “I’m sorry.” Nicholas ran a hand through his hair, ruffling it into a wild mess. “You’re right. I’m sorry…”

  Nicholas didn’t know what else to say. He wanted so badly to impress her, but he didn’t know how. He was fighting a losing battle. “So, I hear it is Evangeline’s birthday next week. Is that correct?”

  “Yes,” answered the mother.

  “Have you planned anything special for her?” Nicholas asked. “What would you say to a party in her honor? I would like to meet your friends, as well as hers. I have yet to meet the local gentry.”

  “I’m sure Evangeline would love a party. She loves any kind of social gathering.”

  “Is it too soon after the death of her father? She might not feel like celebrating anything.”

  Anne’s shoulders relaxed, relieved by the change in subject. “I don’t think we should mope forever. Not even George would want us to do that.”

  “George?”

  ”My late husband.”

  The dimples on his cheeks disappeared with his smile. “Ah, yes. Of course.”

  At the mention of her husband’s name, there were several seconds of

  uncomfortable silence. Nicholas’ jaw was twitching uncontrollably. Her constant indifference was driving him crazy. Any flicker of emotion from Anne Fremont would have made him happy, but her face held no expression. Her posture offered no clue as to whether he had made a good impression on her.

  “If I have a party for Evangeline, will you dance with me?”

  Anne's lips tightened as she fought off a smile. The thought of dancing with Nicholas made her stomach flutter like a young girl’s. “I have not danced in ages.”

  “I don’t think one could forget how to waltz, especially if they have a good partner to lead them.”

  “But, I… I’ve never waltzed,” she admitted. “And I don’t think I would ever want to.”

  “Rejecting a dance would be an irreparable blow to my ego. My confidence has already suffered enough damage by your hands, don’t you think?

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “I think you know perfectly well what I mean, my lady. I care for you, but you don’t want me to care for you. You rebuke me every chance you get. You drive me mad.”

  “I don’t know why you persist,” she said with a sigh.

  “I persist because I am drawn to you.” He reached out for her hand, stealing it from her knitting needles. “I persist... because I think there’s more to you than you let on.”

  “A fire that has yet to be sparked?” she added sarcastically. “I highly doubt it. I am a simple woman.”

  “And you want to keep your life simple.”

  “Yes.”

  “But you care for me?”

  For the first t
ime, she held his gaze for longer than a few seconds. And she answered, very quietly, “yes…”

  A satisfied grin turned his lips. “I want to kiss you. I must kiss you.”

  “As nice as that sounds, I don’t think--”

  Nicholas would never know what she was going to say. The door opened, and the butler entered with a message. Nicholas immediately let go of Anne’s hand. He turned to the butler, trying to resist the urge to strangle him. In another few minutes, he would have had her lips on his. Nicholas was sure of it.

  “My lord, you have a visitor,” uttered the lanky butler. “Lord Trevelan is here to see you.”

  “Lord Trevelan?”

  “A viscount,” Anne whispered. “One of the local gentry.”

  “Ah, I see. I suppose it’s nice of him to call on me.”

  “He’s one of Evangeline’s suitors,” Anne explained. “He is her only suitor. I think my husband wanted Evangeline to marry him.”

  “But you didn’t approve?” Nicholas asked, drawing his conclusion from the tone of her voice.

  Anne shook her head. “No. He’s too old for her.”

  “Like your husband was for you,” Nicholas added. “Stevens?”

  The butler raised his head. “Yes, my lord?”

  “Show our guest to the sitting room, and send for tea,” Nicholas ordered, rising from his chair. “I’m going to meet with Lord Trevelan.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  The viscount wasn’t as old as Nicholas thought he would be. He was in his forties, at the most. After Anne called him “old,” Nicholas had imagined a man with white hair, and wrinkles so deep you could stick sixpence in them. Trevelan’s hair still had all its pigment, and his forehead was relatively smooth, if not a bit weathered. By all accounts, he was young enough to be a rival.

  They shook hands when they met, each with a firm grip. “Lord Trevelan, I presume?”

  “Yes. And you are the new Lord Penworth. I thought I would come and pay my respects.”

  “That’s very kind of you.”

  “The late Lord Penworth was a friend of mine,” Trevelan went on. “I’ve been a friend of the family for many years.”

  “So I hear.”

  “Really?”

  “Actually, no,” Nicholas confessed. “Today is the first I’ve heard of you. I’m sorry.”

  “I see.”

  Silence followed their awkward greeting. Their mutual distaste for one another was instantly apparent to both of them.

  “So…” it was Lord Trevelan who eventually broke the silence. “How is the dowager Lady Penworth? I have not seen her for several days. Is she well? Your arrival must be hard on her.”

  “She’s well enough.”

  “And Lady Evangeline? Is she here?”

  The drawing room door opened, and both men turned to see who was entering. It was the maid with a tray of refreshments. “Yes, she is,” Nicholas answered, watching the maid pour tea. “Please, Trevelan, have a seat.”

  Both men sat across from each other, unable to quell the tension.

  “Evangeline is a beautiful young lady,” Lord Trevelan said.

  “She is,” Nicholas agreed. “And so is her mother. So, how long did you know her husband?”

  “More than a decade.”

  “How long did the old codger live, anyway?” Nicholas asked, not caring if he sounded insensitive. “I take it he was a very old man?”

  “Quite. He was over eighty when he passed away.”

  “And he was old enough to be your father, I presume?”

  Lord Trevelan narrowed his eyes. “I suppose so. I never really thought about it.”

  “Just like Evangeline’s old enough to be your daughter,” Nicholas said, rather harshly. Evangeline was his cousin, was she not? He couldn’t help but feel protective of her, even if it meant fending off older beaux.

  “I don’t see how this is relevant.”

  Fortunately, the two men were spared from further discourse. The door opened, and the dowager countess entered with her daughter. Without a doubt, Evangeline looked prettier than ever. Her hair was immaculate, and her dress was a golden hue. Not even an angel could look more angelic. Having gone to such lengths to perfect her appearance, she certainly had someone to impress.

  But who, Nicholas wondered?

  “Good afternoon, ladies!” Lord Trevelan said, as both men rose from their chairs. “How nice to see you both.”

  Evangeline flitted over to Lord Trevelan and stood beside him. He immediately captured her hand and kissed it. “It’s nice to see you, my lord. You hardly come around anymore. Your visits are a rare pleasure.”

  “The pleasure is all mine,” Trevelan responded, predictably.

  “We’ve just been introduced,” said Nicholas, turning to look at Anne. “I understand Lord Trevelan has been a friend of the family for over a decade?”

  “Yes, he has,” Anne replied. She moved closer to Nicholas, though she didn’t stand beside him. She certainly wasn’t as close to him as Evangeline was to Trevelan. “His friendship was invaluable to my husband.”

  “You give me far too much credit.”

  “YOU LOOK VERY HANDSOME, Lord Trevelan,” Evangeline nearly shouted. She had only one purpose for Trevelan: to make Lord Penworth jealous. Another man in the picture would surely do the trick.

  “As do you, my lady.”

  Evangeline frowned. She wasn’t satisfied with his weakly reciprocated compliment. She needed passion from Lord Trevelan, not half-hearted utterances. How else could she stir jealousy in Nicholas?

  How could she stir any emotion in Nicholas? Ever since they entered the room, he hadn’t torn his eyes away from her mother. That fact did not escape Evangeline’s notice.

  She groped the sleeve of Lord Trevelan’s green coat. “That color suits you nicely.”

  “Really?” Trevelan lifted his arm, admiring the cuff of his greatcoat. “Hmm.”

  Anne poured herself a cup of tea. There was something awkward about the four of them in a room together. Somehow, they didn’t mix. “Nicholas and I were discussing your birthday,” she said. “He wanted to have a party.”

  “Is that so?” Evangeline smiled at Nicholas, whose gaze finally wandered to her. So, he finally managed to tear his eyes from her mother?

  “Yes, just a gathering of locals. Would that please you?”

  “Most certainly, my lord,” Evangeline said. “And Lord Trevelan will have to come, of course.”

  “I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” the older man said. “Could I give you a present? I don’t think it would be improper, as I’ve been your friend for years.”

  Evangeline didn’t hear him. She was too busy glowering and gritting her teeth. Nicholas was looking at her mother again. “Damn and blast,” she whispered under her breath.

  “Pardon?”

  “Oh, nothing, Lord Trevelan,” Evangeline said, punctuating her comment with a false giggle. “I was muttering some nonsense to myself. Trust me, it’s not worth repeating.”

  Trevelan gave her a dubious look. He probably heard her unladylike oath, but was too much of a gentleman to acknowledge it.

  He was more of a gentleman than Nicholas, to be sure. Nicholas toiled with her heart, then acted like she didn’t exist. Evangeline thought she hated him a little bit.

  But only a bit.

  She had to save her animosity for the valet, of course.

  * * *

  After her encounter with Lord Trevelan, Evangeline wanted peace. Ten minutes of unsuccessful flirtation was enough. Ten minutes of Nicholas staring at her mama like a lovesick mooncalf was more than enough. She wanted to get away.

  Evangeline took a stroll through the garden, and ended up at the lake. The lake beside Penworth Park was one of her favorite places in the whole world. It was a place of heavenly tranquility. Feeding the ducks was a favorite pastime of hers, particularly when she was bored. And there were many boring moments at Penworth Park. Her home was as remote as it was beautiful
; her life was as lonesome as it was privileged.

  It didn’t really surprise her when she found Jonathan sitting in the exact spot where she had hoped to sit. There was no escaping Jonathan Winters. He had a way of popping up whenever she didn’t want to see him. When she was close enough to see his face, Evangeline noticed he had his eyes closed. “Is he asleep?” she whispered aloud.

  “No, he isn’t,” Jonathan responded with a chuckle. He opened one eye and turned it on Evangeline. Apparently, her arrival didn’t warrant both eyes.

  “You’re in my spot.”

  He would have liked to answer with a witty retort, but Evangeline was still a lady, even if she was a hellion. Groaning, Jonathan hoisted himself to his feet. “There you go,” he said with a lethargic wave of his hand. “All yours.”

  Evangeline lowered herself to the stone bench and patted the seat beside her. “There is more than enough room for both of us, Winters. You may join me if you’d like.”

  He accepted her invitation with a smile. However, the bench was not as large as Evangeline said. When he sat, their shoulders were nearly touching.

  “The ducks aren’t here today,” Evangeline said.

  “No, they aren’t.”

  “But at least we have the view,” she said, looking out onto the lake. “The view is always lovely.”

  “You have the view… and you have Jonathan Winters. I have to be better than a bunch of ducks.”

  “How fortunate I am,” she responded sarcastically.

  “Honestly, I don’t know why you’re always so cold to me. I hoped we could be friends.”

  Have I changed? Evangeline wondered. The old Evangeline would have said something snide—something along the lines of “If I was your friend, I would shame myself.”

  But she didn’t want to say anything like that. She didn’t want to hurt his feelings.

  “We are already friends, are we not?” Evangeline replied. “I confess I enjoy your company.”

  “More than you enjoy the company of Nicholas?”

  “Perhaps,” she said with a shrug. “He hasn’t exactly been nice to me, but neither have you.”