Evangeline sat at the edge of the lake, sulking. She was so close to the water, her tears were splashing against the water’s surface as she shed them. Her feet were bare and her dress was muddied, but she didn’t care. She ran a hand along her bare ankle, remembering how Jonathan had tended to her when she had blisters. She remembered what it was like to feel his hand on her skin.
It was nothing like Eldrinn’s touch, so rough and invasive. When she thought about what happened to her the previous night, Evangeline felt ill. What if Jonathan hadn’t come to rescue her? How far would Eldrinn have gone?
Evangeline knew she shouldn’t have wandered around the grounds unattended. She kept glancing over her shoulder, fearful that Eldrinn would return. All morning, she had been trying to convince herself that Mr. Fairweather was through with her. Surely, his infatuation could not survive being forcibly removed from Penworth Park. He would have to be a fool to return.
Unless he wanted revenge.
Evangeline wrapped her arms around herself, hugging her knees to her chest. She felt like a piece of her innocence was lost. The more she thought about what happened, the more terrible she felt.
She could be thankful for one thing: at least no one had suggested she marry Eldrinn Fairweather. Having been caught in such a compromising situation, it wouldn’t have surprised Evangeline if someone demanded their nuptials for the sake of saving her reputation. She owed thanks to Jonathan and his silence. After all, he was the only one who had seen her in her state of undress.
Resting her forehead against her knees, Evangeline let out a groan. She wasn’t Eldrinn’s wife, but she would never be Jonathan’s wife either. After what he had seen, he would never have her.
As soon as the thought crossed her mind, she suppressed it. “Why would I even think of being Jonathan’s wife?” she whispered a silent reprimand to herself. “What a stupid, foolish thought. Even if the whole world knew I was a fallen woman, I could find a better husband than him. Hmpf.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a dark figure sauntering along the lake’s edge. As he moved into view, Evangeline recognized the subject of her thoughts. Jonathan was headed in her direction. Not only was he the subject of her thoughts, he was the reason behind the fluttering of her heart. She tried to predict what sort of conversation they would have, but it was useless. Jonathan Winters was the most unpredictable man on earth.
Act normal, she prompted herself. You don’t want to give him any reason to feel sorry for you.
Unfortunately, her body refused to listen to her mind’s advice. When Jonathan was upon her, Evangeline’s head sunk between her shoulders.
“Hello, my lady.” His gentle greeting sent a chill down her spine. “Are you going to soak your feet in the water?” He pointed at her bare feet.
“I, um… no. I had a thorn in my slipper.”
“Oh. I see.”
“It was very uncomfortable.”
“Right.”
Evangeline frowned, remembering how easily they used to converse. As time went on, their conversations were more and more strained. At least he wasn’t running away from her anymore.
“You rid yourself of the thorn in your foot, but now you have a thorn in your side,” he said. But his joke was met with silence. “I’m… referring to myself, of course. I'm the thorn.”
The longer he stood over her, the worse she felt. Her sadness had been building inside of her since the start of the morning. When the tears started to spill down her cheeks, Evangeline wasn’t surprised.
“Oh no. Oh dear.” Jonathan sat beside her at the lake's edge. “Have I said something to make you upset?”
As she shook her head, Evangeline wiped her face with the palm of her hand.
“I came prepared,” he said, whipping a handkerchief from the pocket of his coat. Evangeline snatched it from his hand and cradled it to her cheek. “I suppose I don’t need to ask why you’re upset. I understand completely. Mr. Fairweather is the worst sort of man.” Jonathan took the handkerchief from Evangeline and dabbed the glistening streaks below her eyes. “If he ever returns—which he won’t—I’ll pry his nose from his face. Believe me, I will. And it wouldn’t be hard to get a grip on the thing. He had one of the longest noses I’ve ever seen. He looked like a frog.”
Evangeline raised an eyebrow. “A frog?”
“A Frenchman.”
“Ah, of course. How silly of me. For a moment, I thought you were calling Mr. Fairweather a small, green amphibian.”
“Well, he is a toad.”
“And a paper wit.”
“And a bumbling idiot.”
“And a ridiculous fool.”
“Ridiculous is a good word,” Jonathan said with a nod. “Did you see his violet pants? They were atrocious.”
“The striped ones?” Evangeline asked, “God, those were awful.”
“So now…what other names can we call him?”
“Scoundrel,” Evangeline responded quickly.
“Cad. Curr?”
“Fiend.”
“A duck-lipped, feminine little man.”
Evangeline covered her face and cackled into her hands. When Jonathan heard her laughter, he smiled at his small success. “See? I accomplished what I set out to do. You’re not crying anymore.”
“But I’m still sad,” Evangeline admitted. “I’m ruined. My reputation is ruined, even if I didn’t bring it upon myself.”
“Hogwash,” Jonathan protested. “Your reputation won’t even suffer the tiniest taint. No one will ever know what happened. No one saw it but a stupid valet, and your secret is safe with him.”
Evangeline sighed. “You’re not a stupid valet.”
“You’re right. Not only is that description erroneous, but it’s not colorful enough. How about this: A relatively smart, strikingly handsome, mildly humorous valet.” He held up his missing hand. “And let's not forget about this.”
“I like your hand… or lack thereof,” Evangeline said, reaching out to touch the stump at the end of his right arm. “It gives you character.”
“It adds to my eccentricity.”
“Must you always insult yourself?”
“I’ll stop insulting myself when you stop saying you’re ruined.”
Evangeline looked over at him, gazing into his dark brown eyes. Deep-set and heavily-lidded, she used to think his eyes were peculiar, and a little intimidating. Her opinion had changed. She’d never seen eyes more compassionate or comforting. “There’s one thing that is ruined.”
“What do you mean?”
“My first kiss,” she said with a sigh. “It was completely ruined by Mr. Fairweather’s forced attentions.”
“He kissed you?”
“Yes. Of course he did,” she admitted. “And I didn’t like it one bit. It was horrible.”
Jonathan hitched a shoulder. “Well, it doesn’t count.”
“Yes it does. A kiss is a kiss, whether it’s stolen or not.”
“I beg to differ, my lady. A kiss is a kiss if only the two parties are willing,” Jonathan said, whimsically. “Therefore, the thing you had with Mr. Fairweather is not a kiss at all. Your first kiss is still anyone’s for the taking.”
Evangeline’s lips twitched. Regardless of how bad she felt, Jonathan was close to returning the smile to her face. “I don’t know if I agree with that logic, but it’s certainly optimistic. If you’d kissed me when I asked you to, I wouldn’t be worrying about my first kiss at all!”
“Really? What if it was rubbish?”
“With you?” When Evangeline shook her head in protest, her brown ringlets smacked against her cheeks. “It would have been wonderful, I’m sure.”
Jonathan looked away from her. The conversation was venturing into uncomfortable territory. Evangeline was painstakingly adorable. He wondered how long his restraint would last if she continued to talk about kisses. “Never fear. I’m sure some worthy young man will come and sweep you off your feet. He’ll give you the kiss you deserve. A
nd that, my lady, will be your true first kiss.”
Evangeline glared at the side of his head. She certainly didn’t complain as much as she used to, but how could she not complain when Jonathan was so infinitely infuriating? “Why do you do it, Jonathan?”
“Do what?”
“When I say I want to kiss you, why do you act like you’re repulsed by the idea? What have I done to make you dislike me so?”
Jonathan clapped a hand to his forehead, trying to smooth the worry lines. He was sure they’d gotten more prominent since he sat down beside her. “I… I certainly don’t dislike you, Miss Fremont. If only you knew…”
“And why do you call me Miss Fremont?” she yelled at him. “I hate it!”
“Surely you must realize how improper it would be if I called you anything else?”
She placed her hands on her hips. “No. I don’t.”
Finally, Jonathan did what he’d been wanting to do since his arrival at the lake. He reached out for her hand, lifted it to his lips, and kissed it. “Don’t you know how I feel, Evangeline? Don’t you see it in my eyes? Don’t you hear it in every word I say to you? Don’t you realize just how much I want to hold you, to be with you—but I can’t. If I kissed you, my heart would be so far gone, I’m afraid I would never get it back. Don’t you see the danger in that? If I let myself love you, I would be doomed. I could never have you!”
Evangeline’s heart was beating so hard, she thought she could feel it in her throat. “Do you… love me?”
Letting go of her hand, Jonathan reached out to touch her cheek. His thumb brushed across her lips, ever-so-gently. “Don’t make me say how I feel. Please.”
Evangeline tilted her head, leaning into the caress of his hand. “I’m terrified of what you might think of me… after what you saw... that other man on top of me. I don’t want you to think poorly of me.”
“Never.” When he tried to speak, his voice was hoarse. “Never. I never could.”
Jonathan was so overcome with emotion—emotion for this unattainable beauty—that he lost control of himself. He pulled her onto his lap and cradled her in his arms as tightly as he could. “I’m so sorry he hurt you.”
“I’m fine.” Evangeline assured him, moved by the pain in his eyes. “But if you hadn’t come… if you hadn’t stopped him…”
“I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself,” Jonathan finished her sentence in his own words.
Evangeline moved her face closer to his. Her whole body was yearning, shuddering for his kiss. For a moment, she forgot about what he was, and how her feelings for him were unwelcome. She didn’t think she could stand it if he didn’t kiss her soon.
“Evangeline.” As he said he name, Jonathan searched her eyes. He didn’t see any hesitation in them, so he did it. He leaned forward and brushed a kiss across her lips.
He didn’t know why her reaction surprised him. After all, he was dealing with Evangeline. He never knew how she would react to anything.
She flung her arms around his neck, embracing him so tightly he thought she might smother him. Evangeline was so aggressive, he almost fell backward as she mauled him with kisses. Aggressive or not, she was awakening parts of him that had little use over the past decade. He certainly couldn’t complain about that.
When the onslaught of kisses subsided, Evangeline lifted her head, trying to regain her senses. She kept her eyes closed for several seconds, reveling in what had just taken place. Kissing Jonathan Winters was the most exciting, most forbidden thing she’d ever done.
There was only one problem: she didn’t want it to end.
When she opened her eyes, she was greeted by Jonathan’s smiling face. “Hello,” he whispered to her, reaching out to touch a piece of her hair. “What are you thinking, my dear? Good thoughts, I hope.”
After a few unresponsive seconds, Evangeline shook her head. “No.”
Jonathan’s eyebrow shot up. “No?”
“No, I can’t.” Evangeline sprung from his lap and ran her hands along her dress, as if trying to brush away any traces of Jonathan. “I can’t do this. Don’t ask me what I’m thinking.” He thought he saw a tear in her eye, flashing in the sunlight. “I can’t bear it!”
Then she turned on her heel and fled, taking Jonathan’s heart with her.
Chapter Twenty Five
“There there,” Anne whispered as she stroked the head of her crying daughter. “I think I know why you’re upset, and I’m sure it was a terrible ordeal. Sometimes, Evie, you have to have a good cry in order to move on.”
Evangeline, who had been sniffling against her mother’s shoulder, looked up at her with red-rimmed eyes. “You know why I’m crying?”
“Of course, darling,” Anne replied, her hand continuing its caresses of Evangeline’s silken locks. “But you have nothing to fear. Whatever Mr. Fairweather did to you, no one will ever speak of it. And you needn’t worry about his return. Nicholas and I will make sure he will never sets foot in--”
Evangeline interrupted her. “Mr. Fairweather?”
“Yes, of course,” Anne said with a nod. “He is the reason behind your tears, is he not?”
“Well… no. I mean, I suppose he was, but… not anymore.” Evangeline ran a hand over her sodden eyes. “I'm heartbroken, Mama!”
Anne’s hand was stilled. “Really?”
“The one man I want is the one man I cannot have.”
Nicholas, Anne thought with a shudder. Her daughter would never forgive her if she knew about their little tryst. “Evie, you should know how I feel about this. Ever since you set your cap on Nicholas, I never approved. You should find a man who loves you, who deserves you!”
“And I think I have,” Evangeline said with a sigh. “At least, I think he wants me. I’m not completely sure if he wants me, but I know he deserves me… regardless of what anyone thinks.”
As Anne pieced together her daughter’s clues, a wave of relief washed over her. Any other countess would get gray hairs if her daughter set her heart on a valet. To Anne, the news couldn’t have come soon enough. “You’re referring to Jonathan Winters, aren’t you?”
Evangeline paused. One could not blame her for hesitating. In a sense, she was admitting it to herself for the first time as well. “Well, y-yes. I care about him very much.”
“Then what is the problem?” Anne asked. “I’m sure he would be happy to have you.”
“The problem is, I think I love him,” Evangeline said, nearly shouting the word. “But I don’t want to love him! He’s not a gentleman. He’s not a man of quality. He’s not…”
“You love him, but you don’t think he’s a gentleman? You’ve known him for weeks, but you still don’t think he’s worthy?” Anne shook her head. “Darling, Jonathan Winters is one of the noblest men I’ve ever met, regardless of his circumstances.”
“I know, Mama. I know. You needn’t preach to me. I love him for all his good qualities… for his humor and his kindness. He challenges me to be a better person, and he’s the most genuine man in the whole world,” she said. “And yet… I could never marry him. Society would turn its back on me—on all of us. I couldn’t stand to be the cause of my family’s ruin. Father would turn in his grave!”
Anne lowered her eyes. Her own situation wasn’t much different from her daughter’s. If she married Nicholas, she would also subject the family to ridicule. Old widows were not at liberty to marry their husbands’ young heirs. Of course, Anne didn’t think she had much to worry about. She didn’t expect Nicholas to have marriage on his mind.
“You must do as you see fit, Evangeline,” her mother said. “You should do what makes you happy, and do what you think is right.”
Sighing, Evangeline retreated from her mother’s side. “I don’t know what’s right, Mama. I suppose I have a great deal of thinking to do.”
When she heard the chime of the grandfather clock in the hall, Anne’s heart skipped a beat. Eleven o’clock. She was running out of time. “Well, Evangeline…
it’s getting late, my dear. Why don’t you sleep on it? Maybe tomorrow will have the answers you’ve been looking for.”
“Yes, mama. I should try to get some rest… if my mind will let me.” Evangeline started for the door. “Mama?”
“Yes, Evie?”
“Thank you for listening.”
With a nod, Anne watched her daughter leave the room. A mere thirty seconds later, Nicholas stepped inside.
“Hello, my lady,” he said. “You’re looking ravishing, as usual.”
“Nicholas!” Anne chided him. “Why didn’t you knock?”
“Oh, sorry.” He retreated to the hallway and tapped on the door.
“Who is it?” she played along.
“‘Tis me, my sweet,” he answered her.
“Nicholas? Or is it Davis the footman? You sound very similar, you know.”
Nicholas popped his head in the door, brow furrowed. “Does Davis call you my sweet? If he does, I might have to get a new footman!”
Anne grinned. “He might.”
“And if I was Davis, would you let me in?”
“Most certainly not!”
Finally, Nicholas threw open the door and stepped inside. “Well I’m not Davis, thank goodness. I like being Nicholas, because Nicholas is the only man permitted inside your bedchamber after dark.”
She simpered at him as he made his way to the bed. “Is he, now?”
“He is.” Nicholas threw back the blankets and slid into bed beside her. “Now, do you care to tell me what your daughter was on about? When I passed her in the hall, she was on the verge of tears.”
“She’s very sad,” was Anne’s simple reply.
“About what? Eldrinn? It pains me to think my guest behaved in such a way. I ought to have beaten that devil with a horsewhip. God only knows what he did to her. Jonathan wouldn’t say.”
Anne shook her head. “She’s still shaken about Mr. Fairweather, but he’s not the cause of her tears. And I will not betray my daughter’s trust, my lord, so you needn’t ask.”
“Well, my lady, I won’t.” Nicholas’ hand dove beneath the blankets, cradling her hip.
Senseless Sensibilities Page 17