She looked up at him, saw the answering flare in his eyes.
“I was sent to see what was taking you so long,” he said apologetically, giving her a rueful smile.
He didn’t let go immediately, and she couldn’t seem to look away from him. She stood breathing him in, gazing into the depths of his gray eyes. Her knees wobbled.
“Evie! There you are at last!” Charlotte cried. “We’ve been here almost ten minutes.”
Sam stepped aside at once, let her precede him into the room, and took his place inside the door, standing at attention.
“Ooh, Evie, you have a new footman!” Lucy gushed, eyeing Sam. “How delicious!”
“Down, Lucy,” Evelyn said, bristling. “Don’t you have footmen of your own to molest?”
Lucy sniffed. “I never dally with the help. That’s Frayne’s peccadillo, not mine.” Her eyes lit. “Speaking of ladies and servants, I heard the most delicious bit of scandal this morning from my maid.”
“Oh, I love gossip!” Charlotte said as she leaned in to help herself to a cream cake. Eloisa was regarding Evelyn’s gown, her lips pinched in disapproval. Evelyn resisted the urge to fold her arms over her bodice, and sent her sister a sweet smile instead.
“Well, I heard—” Lucy began, only to be interrupted as the door opened.
“More callers, my lady,” Starling announced. “The Marchioness of Blackwood and Countess Westlake have arrived.”
Evelyn almost sagged with relief. Reinforcements had arrived in the nick of time. With Isobel and Marianne by her side, she wouldn’t be overrun and trampled by her sisters today. She smiled and sent up a prayer that neither lady was wearing yellow and could be held up as a shining golden example for her to follow.
“Show them in, Starling, and fetch more cups,” she said.
“I thought you didn’t have any visitors,” Charlotte said, clearly annoyed at the interruption to Lucy’s on dit.
“I still have friends,” Evelyn said.
“And we are two of her closest and dearest,” Isobel, the Marchioness of Blackwood, said, and she swept into the room with Marianne. Isobel was wearing a soft shade of azure blue, and Marianne’s gown was leaf green. They kissed Evelyn’s cheek and took their places on either side of her, facing the three sisters on the opposite settee. Evelyn hid a smile. They looked like opposing armies. Eloisa regarded the three of them with dismay, but refrained from comment, other than dramatically smoothing her hand over her lemon yellow skirt.
“Lucy had a shocking on dit from her maid this morning, and I am dying to hear it,” Charlotte said, looking at Marianne and Isobel. “What were you going to tell us, Lucy?”
“Isobel’s news first,” Marianne said, holding up a hand to still the sisters. She grinned like a conspirator. “Go on, Isobel, tell them.”
Isobel blushed scarlet, but her eyes glowed. “I hadn’t expected to announce it to everyone.” She touched a hand to her stomach and smiled. “I am expecting a child.”
Lucy’s jaw dropped. “Blackwood’s?” she asked. Marianne bristled.
Isobel’s eyes burned into Lucy’s. “Of course!”
Lucy shrugged. “Well, I had to ask. He’s such an incorrigible rake. Worse than Frayne, and I always find if it’s good for the gander, why shouldn’t the goose enjoy it too?”
“Was incorrigible,” Isobel murmured. “He has reformed.”
“Phineas is utterly and completely devoted to his wife,” Marianne said pointedly, glaring at Lucy. She looked at Evelyn. “We had to come to visit today. Blackwood is insisting on taking Isobel home to the country at once. He won’t let her out of his sight, and he wants her to eat plenty of cream and good country butter.”
“And strawberries. I have the most powerful yearning for strawberries,” Isobel said. “And cherries.”
Charlotte sniffed. “Do forgive me, Isobel, it’s good news, I’m sure, but I have five children. News of a married lady in an interesting condition is, well, hardly interesting at all. Go on, Lucy. Tell us what you heard.”
Evelyn sent Isobel a smile. Her friend was glowing, utterly in love with her husband, obviously filled with such joy that not even Charlotte could dampen her spirits.
Evelyn had wished for a child. Before her marriage she’d also wished for a husband who would adore her. She got neither. She toyed with the wedding ring on her finger, wanting to tear it off and throw it into the fireplace.
“Well, my maid told me that she heard it from one of our footmen, who heard it from Lady Carstairs’s groom. He said that he saw a lady kissing a footman on the very steps of Somerson House last night.”
Evelyn’s heart stopped beating.
The collective gasp filled the room like a windstorm. She looked up at Sam in surprise. He looked back at her, his expression unreadable. There was no guilt, no regret, and no apology in his eyes. She wondered if he’d even heard Lucy’s comment.
“At my ball?” Charlotte warbled, her hand on her chest. “Oh, fetch the hartshorn—I think I’m going to faint!”
Eloisa poked her. “You will not! Lucy, does your maid know who the lady was?”
Lucy giggled. “No. She had her face buried in the footman’s coat, and his arms were around her nice and tight. I’d guess it was Alice Cox. She has a penchant for the lower orders, likes her men rough and ready.”
Marianne shook her head. “No, Alice was dancing with Lord Melrose’s youngest son all evening. That was enough of a scandal. They stood up for four dances, and she knows the limit is three.”
Eloisa made a face. “Whoever she was, how dreadful to engage in an amour with a mere footman! He certainly couldn’t afford to buy her the kind of jewelry and little delights a lady is entitled to.”
“There are other rewards,” Lucy said pointedly.
Evelyn dared to glance at Sam again. Her cheeks were on fire. Any moment someone would remember she left early, or notice Sam in the corner. His gaze was heavy-lidded, careful.
Charlotte gave an exasperated sigh. “Why is it acceptable for a lord to diddle every maid on his staff, while a lady must keep to her own class? No one thinks any less of Somerson for having an occasional liaison with the upstairs maid.”
“Only one of the maids?” Lucy asked. Charlotte glared daggers at her sister.
“Who would be more discreet than a servant?” Marianne asked, her eyes glowing with mischief. “Not that I would ever consider straying from Westlake, but just think. He’d be afraid of losing his post if he didn’t please his lady, so he’d work extra hard at both jobs.”
No, it wasn’t like that, Evelyn told Sam with her eyes.
“Who would be more dangerous?” Isobel countered. “Servants see everything, know the most intimate details. One indiscreet comment and things have a habit of spreading through the kitchen, out the back door, and all over London. Just look at the poor lady who dared to embrace her footman in the dark. What if she simply tripped, or lost her slipper?”
Or fell.
Sam’s expression didn’t change. She couldn’t imagine him bragging of his conquest to Starling or the footmen next door. He was steadfast and honorable, and she had nothing to fear from him.
Or did she? She squirmed.
“Still, it would be very convenient, wouldn’t it?” Charlotte said. “It could all take place behind closed doors in your own home. Who’d know?”
The ladies all nodded in agreement. Evelyn swallowed, imagining Sam in her bed.
Eloisa smiled archly. “Well, whoever she was, everyone knows now, since she was indiscreet enough to be caught a-kissing her servant in broad daylight—”
“I thought you said it was too dark to see her clearly,” Evelyn croaked.
Eloisa waved a dismissive hand that sparkled with yellow diamonds. “Of course it was dark. It doesn’t make any difference. It’s only a matter of hours before her identity is winkled out and her reputation is ruined.” She lifted her chin. “You needn’t look so shocked, Evie. The one lady in all England we can most certa
inly rule out is you.”
She didn’t dare look at Sam now. She felt a blush creep up from her ankles.
“Of course it wasn’t Evelyn! She is a lady to her fingertips,” Marianne defended her.
“Might loosen her up,” Lucy said. “Especially now that Philip isn’t here to play stud.”
“Lucy!” Evelyn protested, but Eloisa opened her reticule and waved a piece of paper.
Evelyn’s heart skipped a beat. Had her sister somehow gotten hold of last night’s note?
“You know we adore you, Evelyn, but Lucy is quite right. You are our baby sister, even if you do behave more like an elderly spinster.” Evelyn swallowed the lump of indignation and the sharp retort that filled her throat. “As I promised, I have compiled a list of potential lovers for you to consider,” Eloisa went on. “You simply need to choose one and Wilton will make the introduction. I will arrange everything else.”
With a squeal of delight Lucy snatched the list. “Oh, how delicious! And to think I was dreading this afternoon would be a bore.” She squinted. “Oh, not Lord Morton! He’s exceedingly dull.”
“She wouldn’t have to talk to him!” Eloisa argued.
“I wasn’t suggesting it was his conversation that was dull!” Lucy shot back, and Eloisa’s mouth shut with a snap.
Marianne squeezed Evelyn’s arm. “I had no idea you were looking for a lover.”
“I’m not,” Evelyn replied through clenched teeth, furious with her sisters, but they were too busy haggling over the merits of the gentlemen on the list to pay attention to her.
Her eyes strayed to Sam again, somewhat desperate for a teasing grin, a reassuring nod, but there was ice in his gray eyes now. He was positively glaring at her. Her breath caught in her throat. Did he think she was actually considering Eloisa’s ridiculous scheme? She blushed and looked away. She didn’t want a lover. She could not imagine any other man in her arms, in her bed, but him.
“Viscount Hazlett won’t do either. He’s just taken that wretched little yellow-haired actress as his mistress, and she’s bedded everyone,” Lucy said. She looked at Evelyn. “She was with Philip for nearly four months.”
Evelyn blushed anew.
“You see, Evelyn?” Eloisa crowed. “I told you yellow was the color of fashion!”
“What about Lord Elkins?” Charlotte suggested.
“No,” Lucy said. “He’s getting married and going to Scotland on his wedding trip. He won’t be back for several months. Still, if Evie could wait that long, he might do.”
“No,” Evelyn said.
Lucy mistook her meaning. “Well then, fetch me something to write with and a fresh sheet of paper. There are at least a dozen other men I can think of who are available now.” She looked at Isobel. “Are you quite certain Blackwood has given up other women?”
Isobel scowled at her. “Most certain, Countess.”
Lucy was hardly deterred. “Quelle dommage! Blackwood was the most skilled lover in London.”
“How would you know, Lucy? He never bedded you,” Charlotte said. “Remember how you tried and tried to get him to—”
Lucy raised her chin. “I remember!” she snapped. Isobel smiled coldly at her.
“Anyway,” Eloisa said, “unless you can think of someone else, we’re down to second sons and Scotsmen.”
“Wait,” Marianne said. “I was introduced to a very pleasant gentleman last night, Lord William Rutherford, Viscount Mears. He’s in London for the Season, and then he’ll return home to the country. What could be better? A few weeks pleasure, and then he’ll go, leaving no entanglements.”
Sam coughed. In fact, he appeared to be choking. Every lady’s eye shot across the room to him.
“Are you well, Sam?” Evelyn asked in concern.
“May I be excused, my lady?” he asked in a dark voice, his eyes flat, his face carefully devoid of any expression at all.
She nodded, relieved to have him out of the room for the rest of the embarrassing discussion. She waited until he shut the door behind him.
“What about Lord—” Charlotte began again, but Evelyn raised her chin.
“No,” she said firmly. “I have no intention of heaping further scandal upon myself by taking a lover. I am not interested.”
“But I hear Lord Downing has made a study of eastern techniques!” Charlotte protested. She waggled her eyebrows. “He knows a dozen ways to make a lady—”
“Stop!” Evelyn insisted.
A fleeting memory of Philip’s collection of erotic art and books passed through her mind, but the face she pictured was Sam’s, not Lord Downing’s. She blushed, her nerves at the breaking point.
“You are welcome to finish your tea, but we will discuss another topic, if you please. I am done with this one.”
“We could talk about your wardrobe,” Eloisa said dryly.
“Not that topic either,” Evelyn said sharply. “What about the weather, or where the best strawberries are grown, or the latest news of the war? I hear Lord Wellington has had several recent victories.”
“War?” Charlotte gasped. “Ladies do not discuss war! It is our duty to admire the gentlemen in their scarlet officers’ tunics and wave them off to battle with tears in our eyes, but what they do after that is their affair!”
Sam slipped into the room and resumed his post. He did not meet her eye, but fixed his gaze on the wall behind her, his expression cold and correct.
“Speaking of affairs, did you see how dashing Major Lord Creighton looked last night?” Lucy said.
“He’s quite a hero, I understand,” Isobel added.
“Indeed he is,” Lucy said. “I saw you dancing with him, Evelyn. Are you considering him for the, um, position?” she asked.
Evelyn sent her sister a quelling look and didn’t bother to answer.
Eloisa sighed. “Obviously you’re going to be stubborn again today. I will arrange to have my modiste send you the latest pattern books and some samples of silk. I think a walking gown in egg yolk and perhaps a bonnet in mulligatawny would suit you very well. Even you could not object to a shade as lovely as mulligatawny.”
Isobel wrinkled her nose. “What is mulligatawny?”
“It’s soup,” Marianne answered. “One of Westlake’s ships brought a recipe back from India. It’s quite delicious, but the only way I’d wear it is if I spilled it on my gown.”
Eloisa sniffed. “I think it’s time we left, since we can’t be of any further assistance here.” She held up her gloves before putting them on. “Mulligatawny.”
Charlotte rose as well. “By the way, Evie, I have been so busy with invitations since the ball that I shan’t be able to devote myself to staying here in the house with you. Eloisa and Lucy assure me they are also busy.
“Then I shall be content on my own,” Evelyn said quickly.
“Certainly not! My maid shall come and stay,” Charlotte said. “She will make a perfect companion. If you do not wish to have her, then you will have to come and stay with me or Eloisa.”
Evelyn’s heart sank. It was hardly a choice at all. Charlotte’s maid was a spy and a busybody. Still, it would be worse staying with her sisters. She pictured a guest room done over in a dozen shades of yellow, just for her.
Her sisters marched toward the door, but Lucy lingered to finish her champagne, fishing the strawberry out of the empty glass.
“Come on, Lucy,” Eloisa said impatiently.
Lucy sauntered across the room and linked arms with Charlotte. “Tell me more about Lord Downing’s eastern practices.”
Marianne and Isobel rose as well. And Evelyn smiled at Isobel. “You look lovely,” she said. “And happy.”
Isobel grinned as she leaned in to whisper, “That’s because everything they say about Blackwood is quite true. A lover can truly make the unbearable situations of life bearable, Evelyn. Do consider it.”
Evelyn studied her hands and didn’t reply.
Marianne chimed in. “I don’t often agree with your sister
s, but you deserve some pleasure, and some happiness, and—”
“Thank you both for coming. We shall have to visit soon,” Evelyn said, ending the conversation yet again.
She watched as Sam opened the door for her guests and led them down the hall without so much as a glance at her.
He did not return to the salon afterward, and she stared at the spot where he’d been standing for a long time.
Pleasure and happiness. How long had it been since she’d had either? Never in a man’s arms. At least not until Sam. She shivered, and wondered if she should ring for a shawl.
But she wasn’t cold. She was desperate and restless and she wanted the one thing she couldn’t, shouldn’t, want.
She wanted Sam.
Chapter 20
William, his own brother, Evelyn’s lover?
As her servant, he would probably be expected to tuck them in at night and serve them breakfast in the morning. He couldn’t do it. He wouldn’t.
Sinjon lengthened his stride, walked faster. He didn’t have permission to leave his post, but he didn’t care. He had no intention of going back. He was on his way to tell Westlake he quit.
Had the earl sent his wife to goad him? Why else would Marianne have suggested that William would make Evelyn a perfect bedmate? Had she been watching for his reaction, ready to report to her husband?
He’d do his own reporting.
Evelyn’s sisters reminded him of his father’s hunting dogs, loud, mannerless, and deadly. But these bitches had powerful husbands, and the pack of them was circling, scenting blood. The Crown would be lucky if there was a single farthing or a scrap of flesh left once Evelyn’s family finished with her.
She needed a protector. He stopped walking and looked back along the street toward Renshaw House.
Of course he’d think so—he’d been brought up to care for women. Whether they needed his help to carry parcels, to fight off rapists in Spain, or to defend against French assailants in Hyde Park, he served with a smile.
In bed too. He was a considerate, passionate lover. He made sure the lady’s pleasure equaled his own.
The Price of Temptation Page 13