Senseless Sensibilities

by K. L. O'Keefe

  By this time, she was fully dressed, tugging her slippers onto her feet. “I ‘spose so.”

  “My question pertains to Lady Evangeline. Do you know, by any chance, what her favorite flower might be?”

  The maid looked up at him with disbelief on her face. She took off one of her slippers and tossed it at his head. “How could you ask me such a thing, you horrible, horrible man!?”

  She could call him whatever she wanted. Eldrinn didn’t mind. Deep down, he had some sympathy for the girl. He knew it was wrong to toy with the emotions of impressionable young women. But Eldrinn couldn’t help his affinity for beautiful things. He had to have her, and he did. What did she expect? It wasn’t as if he could marry the girl.

  “Oh, Mary…” he said her name with a roll of his eyes.

  “Yer no gentleman, Eldrinn Fairweather!” she hollered at him. “Yer no gentleman at all!”

  “I would agree with you, if you would tell me Miss Evangeline’s favorite flower.” He picked up her slipper and handed it back to her.

  “I hate you!”

  Eldrinn sighed. Lowborn, highborn—women were all the same. Their emotions were so fleeting.

  Mary’s rant continued. “Even if I knew what her favorite flower was, I wouldn’t tell the likes of you! I refuse to help you woo the young mistress! Yer as likely to break her heart as you are to win it!” She turned away from him, arms crossed. Neither of them made a sound for over a minute.

  Finally, Mary said, “I… I saw his lordship’s valet givin’ her some pink roses.”

  “Pink roses? Really?” His left eye narrowed in suspicion. “From the valet? Why on earth is she getting flowers from servants?”

  “Jonathan Winters is twice the man you are!” Mary declared. “I reckon ‘es more of a gentleman, too!”

  “Well… if this Jonathan fellow is such a gentleman, why aren’t you rolling around in the stables with him?” Eldrinn rudely noted. As he headed out the door, he ducked.

  After all, he didn’t want to get hit by Mary’s other slipper, which went whizzing over his head.

  * * *

  Evangeline felt renewed. Her hopes were not only restored, they were sky high. She had given up on Nicholas, who was pathetically in love with her mama, unrequited or not. And she had to give up on Jonathan, regardless of how she felt. No matter how much she liked him, Evangeline couldn’t afford to waste her affections on her cousin’s valet.

  Eldrinn Fairweather presented her with a new opportunity. He was handsome enough to set her heart aflutter, and he seemed to have the soul of a poet. According to Nicholas, he received a sufficient amount of pounds per annum, despite being a viscount’s third son. Not to mention, he was thoughtful enough to visit his sickly old aunt in Yorkshire. Mr. Fairweather was, in all likelihood, the sort of man she’d been looking for her entire life.

  Evangeline knew what she had to do. She needed to succeed with Eldrinn where she had failed with Nicholas. She needed to make him fall in love with her, propose to her, and marry her.

  The morning after their first meeting, Evangeline stayed in bed for nearly an hour, lost in daydreams. She wondered what it would be like to have such a handsome husband. She wanted him to whisk her away to London and show her a whole new world. She wanted him to take her to see plays and fine art. Evangeline wanted a new life, far away from the dullness of Penworth Park. Eldrinn could give her that.

  When Evangeline saw him emerging from the stables, she couldn’t believe her good fortune. She needed to talk to him alone if she had any chance of accomplishing her goal. Propriety be hanged!

  “Mr. Fairweather!” Evangeline cheerfully greeted him. “What a pleasure to see you! Did you go for a ride?”

  Eldrinn’s mouth fell open when he saw her. If Evangeline saw Mary the maid exiting the stables in a state of dishevelment, it would not work in his favor. Very quickly, he looped his arm around Evangeline’s and started to steer her away. “Yes, I was out for a ride. Would you join me for a walk?”

  If she was surprised by him grabbing and dragging her, Evangeline’s face showed no sign of it. Eldrinn was impressed by her composure. “I’d be delighted.”

  When they were far enough away from the stables, Eldrinn’s shoulders relaxed. Easing his grip on Evangeline’s arm, he asked, “Were you planning to go for a ride? If you were, I don’t want to keep you from your plans.”

  “No, I never ride,” Evangeline confessed. “I… I’m not very good with horses. Not so long ago, a horse tossed me into the mud.”

  Evangeline shook her head with disbelief. Why did she have to tell him that? “T-that is… I don’t want you to think I’m clumsy, Mr. Fairweather. It’s only happened to me one time.”

  “I would never think you were clumsy, Lady Evangeline. When I look at you, I see nothing but grace.”

  “Oh, surely--”

  “You are graceful, among other things. I confess I am quite taken by your beauty.” When he saw her smile, Eldrinn continued. “Your eyes consume me. Whenever I look at you, I find it hard to look away. I don’t think I’ve seen a lovelier young lady in all my life. If I knew about you, I would have come to Penworth Park ages ago.”

  “Surely you jest. I don’t think I’m prettier than most.”

  Eldrinn stopped walking. When she turned to face him, he tapped her nose with his finger. “You shouldn’t object when someone pays you a compliment. Weren’t you the one who said confidence is a virtue? Modesty doesn’t suit you, my lady.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “It means you’re pretty enough to be proud,” said Eldrinn. “You know you’ve been blessed in beauty. A looking glass doesn’t lie.”

  “Well, if you insist… thank you for all the compliments.”

  Eldrinn took her arm and started walking again. “I’m surrounded by all this beautiful scenery, and yet, the only thing I want to look at is you.”

  Evangeline wasn’t really impressed by his words, but her cheeks were on fire. He must have been having some effect on her.

  “I want to know everything about you,” Eldrinn said. Women liked it when men showed an interest. They liked it even better when men listened well. Eldrinn learned from experience. “Tell me about your life.”

  “There isn’t much to tell,” Evangeline said with a sigh. “I sit at home all day. I play the piano, and sometimes I paint. I’m fairly accomplished on the pianoforte, but I’m not amazingly talented. I should read more, but I don’t. Books haven’t interested me since I was a little girl. I have no use for silly stories.”

  “Maybe you could read something practical,” Eldrinn suggested, “like a history book.”

  Evangeline stuck out her tongue. “No offense, Mr. Fairweather, but I think that would bore me into a stupor!”

  “Fair enough.”

  Evangeline held her tongue between her lips, concentrating. There had to be something interesting she could tell him. “I almost died when I was five years old.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes. Twice,” she went on. “When I was five, I fell into the lake. I nearly drowned. A man named Lord Trevelan pulled me out.”

  “Who is this man? I would like to thank him.”

  “Lord Trevelan was a neighbor of ours. He still is. I suppose I should show more kindness to the man, seeing as I owe him my life,” Evangeline said. “Remember how I said I almost died twice? Well, the lake was practically frozen over. Even though I didn’t drown, I almost died of a chill. I was bedridden for days. My face was as blue as the water I fell into, or so they say. My father forbade me to leave the house for an entire year.”

  “Really? A whole year?”

  “Well…” Evangeline tapped her chin. “Maybe that’s an exaggeration. But my father was very protective after that.”

  “Do you miss him?”

  “Sometimes, when I’m lonely. My father was always nice to me. He was never good at expressing his feelings, but I think he loved me. In his own way.”

  By the time she
finished her story, Evangeline and Eldrinn were standing at the edge of the lake where she nearly drowned. A shudder ran down her back. Her brush with death wasn’t something she thought about often. She wondered if Lord Trevelan remembered it.

  “I think I’ve said more than enough about my life,” she said. “I’ve talked your ear off. See?” Evangeline leaned closer to him, pretending to check his ear. “It’s already peeling away from the side of your head.”

  Eldrinn laughed. “Oh no! That sounds dreadful!” He reached up and gave his ear a little tug. “It’s still attached, I promise.”

  “Maybe I shouldn’t tease you like that. You might believe whatever I say. After all, you did say you were as gullible as a schoolgirl. If I said your ears dropped off and fled, you might start looking for them in a panic.”

  Eldrinn smiled at her response. “Well, I’m not that gullible, thank goodness. Besides, you could talk to me forever and my ears would be delighted. I like to listen to you.” All of a sudden, Eldrinn turned her toward him, cupping her cheek in his hand. When she didn’t turn away from his touch, a feeling of self-satisfaction crept into him. He wanted to kiss her, but he didn’t want to press his luck. “You’re such a beautiful girl. While I’m here, I’d like to spend every moment with you. Do you think that’s possible?”

  As he leaned close to her, Evangeline could hardly breathe. She wondered if he would kiss her. More importantly, she wondered if she wanted him to kiss her. She hardly knew him. She was afraid the kiss would be underwhelming. “Well… I would have to sleep.”

  “Could I sleep outside your door?”

  “I suppose you could, but I don’t think it would be very comfortable. Maybe I could spare a blanket for you.”

  “You enchant me,” he whispered, reluctantly withdrawing his hand.

  Evangeline’s stomach was in knots. A man was finally showing interest in her, and it thrilled her to the core. She had little luck with the men in her life. Lord Trevelan was a bit old, and he was more like a friend than anything. Nicholas was completely oblivious to her flirtations. And Jonathan Winters, though it pained her to include him on her list of prospects, didn’t want to kiss her.

  “Here comes your butler,” said Eldrinn, looking over Evangeline’s head. “He’s here to steal you away from me, no doubt.”

  Sure enough, when Evangeline turned around, she saw Stevens sauntering toward them. When the butler was close enough, he said, “Lord Trevelan is here to see you, miss.”

  “Lord Trevelan?” Eldrinn spoke up. “Your childhood hero?”

  “The very same,” Evangeline answered with a smile.

  “The man who rescued you from the throes of death?” Eldrinn threw up his arms in defeat. “Then I am hopeless. Your savior will steal your heart.”

  “Not a chance, Mr. Fairweather.” Evangeline grinned at him over her shoulder as she walked away. “I’m reserving my heart for someone else.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Nicholas had been pacing outside the door for nearly five minutes. He reached for the doorknob several times, but he always paused. Before he came to Penworth Park, Nicholas had all the confidence in the world. A woman had never resisted him as long as this. The widow’s unwavering disinterest had reduced his confidence significantly. In her presence, he felt as shy as a schoolboy.

  Nicholas had to have her. He needed her to give in, if only for the sake of salvaging his pride. He desired her more than he desired any woman. Reaching for the doorknob one last time, Nicholas took a deep breath.

  This was it.

  When he opened the door, he found something he didn’t expect. Anne was hunched over, crying, with her hands folded in her lap. Her face was hidden from him, but her sniffling gave her away. Her needlepoint was abandoned, laying on the floor beside her feet.

  She lifted her head when she saw him come in. She looked mortified. Taking a deep breath, Anne tried to regain some semblance of poise. “Oh… Nicholas… I…”

  When Nicholas saw tears glistening on her cheeks, he felt a tug on his heart. He cared about her so much. He wished his feelings were just a childish infatuation, or a dominant male urge to possess her. But it was so much more than that. He wanted to take her into his arms and comfort her. He wanted to make her happy at any cost.

  Nicholas moved closer and knelt beside her chair. “My lady, why are you sad?”

  As soon as he asked the question, he dreaded the answer. The woman lost her husband. If her tears had anything to do with another man, dead or alive, he didn’t want to hear it.

  “I-I don’t know if I should s-say,” she stammered, lowering her head. She wanted to hide from his gaze.

  “Here,” Nicholas reached into the pocket of his greatcoat and pulled out a green handkerchief. Very tenderly, he lifted it to her cheeks and dabbed them. “Let me dry your tears and ease your pain. Please, talk to me…”

  “It’s… a bit embarrassing,” she whispered, her voice breaking as she spoke. When Nicholas handed over the handkerchief, she tried to cover her hands. “I don’t want you to think less of me. I have reason to believe you already think the worst of me, and--”

  He cut her off before she could continue. “Think the worst of you? Why in the world would you think such a thing? Have I given you that impression?” His insides were wrenching as he spoke. “I think the very best of you, you silly woman.”

  “But… but I’ve been so cold.”

  “Then I’ll fetch you a shawl,” he said with a chuckle. “My dear, I don’t think you’ve been cold at all. If you were, I wouldn’t feel drawn to you every second of every day. I think you’re a wonderful woman, Anne Fremont. You’re beautiful, wise and graceful. If you haven’t been falling at my feet, I’m sure it serves me right.”

  A tiny smile turned her lips. “You’re so kind, Nicholas. You really are. To be honest, I feel better… now that you’re here.”

  “Then tell me what’s troubling you.”

  “I’m afraid you’ll think I’m old.”

  Nicholas shook his head. “No. No, I won’t.”

  “It’s my hands,” she said. “My hands are slowly becoming crippled. I have trouble sewing, because they stiffen up. When I hold a cup, I have to concentrate hard, or else I might drop it.”

  “And that’s what has you so upset?” Nicholas reached out, taking one of her hands in his. It trembled when he touched it.

  Anne still refused to look at him. He was being so kind, but she hated to show any signs of weakness. All of a sudden, Nicholas’ opinion of her was very important. She didn’t want him to think badly of her and her rheumatic hands. She wanted him to keep thinking she was beautiful and unattainable, even though her opinion of herself had never been very high.

  Nicholas bent his head toward her hand, kissing it softly. “I’m sorry you’re upset. I wish there was something I could do.”

  “Just… be here,” Anne whispered. “Regardless of how I’ve reacted to you in the past, I… I like to have you near me.” And it was true. She felt warmed and comforted by his presence. As soon as he walked the room, some of her sadness dissipated.

  “Anne, look at me.”

  She didn’t move.

  “Please?”

  When she complied, Nicholas was surprised by the color of her eyes. Her recently-shed tears had turned them a soft green color. Nicholas thought she looked beautiful even now, with her nose all ruddy and runny.

  “I’ll take care of you.” He started to massage her fingers. “If there’s anything you feel like you can’t do, I’ll do it for you.”

  Her hands were not only stiff; they seemed to have a life of their own. One of them reached out to touch Nicholas’ cheek.

  “I care about you,” he told her. “I want you.” His mouth, like her hands, had a life of its own. Nicholas couldn’t believe what he said next. Had he thought it through, he might have realized he would scare her away with his words. “I want you in my bed.”

  Her brow furrowed. Predictably so.

&nbs
p; “That is to say, I… I…”

  Nicholas didn’t have a chance to cover for his bad behavior. A knock on the door interrupted him before he could finish. With a groan, he rose to his feet. “Yes? Come in.” There was unmistakable anger in his tone. He was angry with himself, as well as the person behind the door. How dare they interrupt at such a critical moment?

  The sunken face of Stevens the butler did nothing to make him feel better. When Stevens’ gaze settled on his mistress, he looked a bit concerned. She had, after all, been crying. “My lady,” said the old man. “Lord Trevelan is here to see you.” Stevens turned to Nicholas, his eyes burning with distrust.

  “Send him in, please,” Anne replied, twisting Nicholas’ handkerchief between her hands. They didn’t feel stiff anymore, thank goodness. Nicholas’ candor must have shocked away the pain. She hadn’t expected him to make such a bold request.

  In his bed?

  What exactly did he want? To make her his mistress?

  When Stevens left to retrieve their guest, neither of them spoke. She expected Nicholas to elaborate on his thoughts, but he didn’t. I want you in my bed. His words echoed in her ears a thousand times. For years and years, her husband never touched her. After Evangeline’s birth, and her failure to produce an heir, she’d become as useless to her husband as a painting on the wall. Did Nicholas really want her? And if she let him have her—what would it feel like? She had never experienced real passion. She couldn’t help but wonder how different it would be.

  After a few minutes of silence, Anne whispered, “I can’t.”

  He looked over at her with curious eyes.

  “I can’t be with you, Nicholas,” she said. “It would be wrong.”

  “I understand,” he said with a sigh. His hopes were dashed, as always. He had been making some progress with her, but his foolish tongue had spoiled it. “I shouldn’t have said such a thing, my lady. I should have known better. I’m sorry.”

  Again, Anne lowered her eyes. Nicholas would never marry her. If she didn’t become his mistress, marriage was the only other way she could have him. He would never take a wife as old as her. Nicholas’ wife would have to be young. Anne could picture his ideal mate: a precious, pale-skinned beauty in the first blush of youth. And it certainly wasn’t her.