by Cheryl Holt
CHAPTER NINE
Aaron stepped into the manor at Fox Run, stopped in his tracks by the strangest sound. Music. Vocal music, loud and merry and ringing off the rafters.
He paused and actually glanced around the foyer to be sure he was in the right residence, that he hadn’t stumbled into the wrong house by mistake. He’d owned Fox Run for a decade, and it had always been a quiet, empty place. He’d certainly never encountered singing when he’d walked through the door.
It was late in the evening, and he hadn’t been expected, so there were no servants to meet him in the foyer, but he didn’t mind. He was just so relieved to be back.
After his fight with Priscilla and Claudia, he’d left London—again without a word to anyone—and had proceeded straight to the country.
The entire journey, he’d fretted about Priscilla until it had dawned on him that he wasn’t a sentimental man. While once he’d naively thought he might like to marry for love and affection, he’d never valued maudlin traits. Why be upset over the fact that he possessed no tender feelings for Priscilla?
Many of his acquaintances had been wed for years and not a single one had ended up satisfied with his choice. Why should Aaron’s marriage be any different?
He was putting too much emphasis on irrelevant details. He’d been fuming because Priscilla would never make him happy, but he couldn’t care less if she made him happy. Priscilla was who she was, and Aaron was who he was. His father wanted the union, and Aaron would never defy Lord Sidwell in such an important decision. Lucas would, but Aaron wouldn’t.
So why fuss over it? Why carry on until he felt ill with regret?
Evangeline was at Fox Run, and Aaron was getting married in a month. If he trifled with Evangeline for a bit, it would calm his raging upset, so it would benefit everyone involved. Particularly Priscilla.
Evangeline was the key. Evangeline would fix everything.
He’d already asked her if she’d have an affair, and she’d refused, but why take her word for it? He would simply wear her down and change her mind. And if he couldn’t?
Then he’d have three weeks of flirtation and dalliance before his responsibilities drew him back to London.
The ruckus was coming from the music room. He went down the hall and peeked inside, smiling at the sight that greeted him.
Evangeline, Bryce, and Florella were rehearsing, with Evangeline at the piano, and Bryce and Florella singing a duet. Several of his servants were also participating. They were arrayed in a chorus behind Bryce and Florella and sounding quite grand. He hadn’t known members of his staff were so talented!
Bryce kept forgetting the lyrics, which would cause them all to laugh and jest. They were a mixed group, but having a jovial time, and it occurred to him that he was so bloody glad to have Evangeline in the house. She’d brought this noise and gaiety with her, had enlivened his home, charmed his servants, and beguiled his friends.
How lucky he was to have her staying under his roof. In such a swift and remarkable way, she’d altered his whole world.
He had a vague recollection of this sort of raucous energy pulsating through the halls of Sidwell Manor when he’d been a little boy, when his mother had still been with them, but after she’d passed on, all the jollity had passed with her.
From that day forward, it had been an era of dreary tedium, of lonely, lost brothers maneuvering around a petulant father who’d lashed out when crossed. On watching Evangeline direct the ensemble, he realized how much he’d missed his mother’s commotion and uproar. Who could have imagined it?
He loitered in the hall, in the shadows, not eager to bluster in and wreck their fun. He silently observed until, finally, they declared themselves finished. Bryce and Florella collapsed onto the sofa, the servants discreetly stepping away, trying to look unobtrusive now that their role in the chorus was ended.
Clapping enthusiastically, Aaron burst in. They all whipped around to learn who had arrived. The servants appeared sheepish, worried they might be in trouble. Bryce and Florella waved, beckoning him over. But it was Evangeline who riveted him, who told him he was right to have returned.
“Lord Run!” she said. “What a nice surprise!”
“Hello, hello.” He included everyone, but it was all for her.
“What are you doing here?” Bryce asked.
“There were rumors of a fantastic musicale being presented in this part of the country, and I raced back to see it.”
“It was all Evangeline’s idea,” Bryce said.
“I’m sure it was,” Aaron agreed.
“We can’t keep up with her.”
Aaron grinned at Evangeline. “You’ve drafted my servants into your mischief again.”
“After I heard them in the choir at church, I couldn’t resist. Aren’t they marvelous?”
“They’re your devoted acolytes. If they’re busy with your frivolous pursuits, how will they ever get their chores done?”
“Who cares about chores,” she saucily retorted, “when they can spend time singing instead?”
“I demand my own private performance,” he announced, and he marched over and pulled up a chair next to the pianoforte.
She glanced at her assembled troupe and asked, “What say all of you? Can you do it again for Lord Run?”
“You’re a slave driver, Evangeline,” Bryce protested, but he was already pushing himself to his feet.
“No rest for the weary,” Florella chimed in as she rose too. “Or is it the wicked?”
“It’s the wicked,” Bryce said. “Definitely the wicked.”
Evangeline urged the servants to stand behind Bryce and Florella. For a moment, they looked anxious, but she had such a clever way with people that she instantly put them at ease.
She played the introductory chords, and as Bryce began to sing, Aaron sat back to enjoy the show.
Three weeks, he mused to himself.
Four weeks to his wedding, which meant three weeks to dally with Evangeline at Fox Run. He would charm and woo her until she relented. If he was shrewd, if he was lucky, she just might shower him with everything he’d ever wanted.
* * * *
Evangeline paced in her sitting room. She’d stare at the door, then pace, then stare at the door, but no matter how fervidly she tried to conjure Aaron Drake, he didn’t appear.
She’d been positive he would.
When he’d entered the music room, she’d nearly shrieked with delight. She’d been that happy about his arrival. She knew she shouldn’t be glad, that it was wrong and misguided and dangerous, but she couldn’t help it.
It had been two hours since she’d left him in the parlor, drinking brandy with Bryce. Would he visit her? He had to! If he didn’t, how would she bear it?
Suddenly, footsteps hurried down the hall. They were heavy, male, halting right outside. She ran over and jerked the door open.
“Lord Run!”
“Hello, Evangeline.”
“Get in here before someone sees you.”
She grabbed his wrist and yanked him inside. There was an eerie sense of destiny in the air, as if their futures had aligned, as if their paths had been leading them in one direction, but had abruptly pushed them in another. They’d never be able to go back to the route they’d previously pursued.
“Why are you at Fox Run?” she asked. “Tell me the truth.”
“I will, but don’t you dare gloat.”
“Just say it.”
“I missed you.”
“I knew it,” she cockily said.
“Come here.”
He held out his arms, and she leapt into them. Then he was kissing her so forcefully she wondered if they’d ever stop. It was wild and feral, out of control, beyond what she could imagine or describe.
She’d known that adults kissed each other. She had been kissed before. She’d been kissed by him before, but none of it had prepared her for such an explosion of passion.
She felt as if he’d been away for years, as if
he’d been lost and wandering and had finally found his way home. Issues of morality, of her engagement to his cousin, flew out the window. She simply didn’t care about anything but this moment and this man and the undiluted elation he generated.
“Why did you stay downstairs so long?” she inquired when she could take a breath.
“Bryce wouldn’t shut up. I couldn’t escape.”
“How could you make me wait?”
“I wanted you impatient and chafing with temper.”
“I am chafing,” she said. “I absolutely am.”
He picked her up and spun them, and he proceeded into her bedchamber. As he dropped her onto the bed, as he followed her down, she was laughing, merry, content beyond measure, and she wouldn’t spend a single second worrying about how she was sinning.
When he made her so happy, when the very air seemed to sizzle with their proximity, how could their conduct be wrong?
He rolled on top of her, and they were nose to nose, their bodies touching from foreheads to toes.
“I leave for a few days,” he told her, “and I come back to find that you’ve charmed my friends and corrupted my servants.”
“I enjoyed every minute of it too!”
“Should I scold you for your riotous behavior?”
“No. You should be grateful that I decided to liven up this drafty old place.”
“I am grateful, Miss Etherton.”
“Are you really? Do you mean it?”
“Yes, I mean it.”
“You’re not upset, are you? That I took liberties? Especially with the servants.”
“I didn’t realize they could sing.”
“I was at church on Sunday, and they were all in the choir. They were so good I couldn’t believe it.”
“You may press them into your service whenever you wish. They’re all half in love with you—particularly the footmen. If I refused to let them cavort with you, I’d likely have a mutiny on my hands.”
“You’re being awfully kind.”
“I’m not usually, but with all your energy flowing through the halls, you make me feel dull and stodgy.”
“Stodgy? You? Never.”
“I’m trying new things lately. I have to become more rambunctious so I’m more like you.”
They chuckled, their banter dwindling to a halt. They were grinning, staring, and as Evangeline gazed into his blue eyes, it seemed as if her heart was swelling in her chest, as if it no longer fit between her ribs.
Fondness was burgeoning, beginning to grow. Where would it lead? Where would it end?
They were from completely different stations in life, and if she had any antecedents that would recommend her to him, she wasn’t aware of what they might be. Miss Peabody had always claimed there was no evidence as to Evangeline’s parents, so she had no history to indicate a relationship should form.
Despite how she was betraying the vicar and racing away from her betrothal, she was a very moral person. Lord Run had asked her to debase herself with an affair, which she would never consider. And societal restrictions would never allow them to marry.
But when he smiled at her like that…
Oh, my! What was she to think?
Was there another road they could travel together? What might it be? If he appeared so smitten after such scant acquaintance, what might transpire after a prolonged association? Might he eventually lower himself to wed her?
She didn’t suppose it was possible, but why couldn’t she hope for it? Why couldn’t she set out to entice him, to win him?
Occasionally—not often, but occasionally—there were men of his rank who did the unexpected, who married the governess or the nanny or the poor cousin. They fell in love and couldn’t help themselves.
Why couldn’t that occur for Evangeline? Why shouldn’t she shoot for the moon?
She’d always dreamed big dreams, but had never been in a position to chase after them. Yet she was an adult now, floating free from her past, and about to break her engagement to the vicar. She’d written to Rose and Amelia to ask their advice, to beg their assistance. As soon as she heard back and was certain she had someplace to go, she’d inform Vicar Bosworth of her decision.
Maybe, if she played her cards right, she wouldn’t have to ever leave Fox Run. She wouldn’t need rescue from Rose or Amelia. Why shouldn’t Lord Run be the biggest dream of all?
“I’m so glad we met,” he murmured.
“So am I.”
“Doesn’t it seem as if…ah…” He paused, his cheeks flushing with chagrin. “Oh, never mind.”
“No, say it.”
“Doesn’t it seem as if there’s some destiny at work between us? I rarely visit Fox Run, but I just happened to stop by when you were here. It’s as if the universe intended for us to cross paths.”
Hadn’t she been thinking the very same? Yes, there was destiny at work. Where would it take them?
“I agree,” she said. “I feel as if I was specifically brought to Fox Run by the unseen hand of Fate.”
“I tried to depart so you’d be safe from my wicked ways.”
“Your wicked ways?” She laughed, liking him more and more.
“Yes, my very wicked ways, but I couldn’t stay away. You were a magnet, dragging me back.”
“A very strong, very potent magnet. I obsessed over you every second while you were gone.”
“Did you?” He beamed with pleasure. “It was almost as if you’d planted a message in my head, as if you were calling to me across the miles to jump on my horse and hurry to your side.”
“I won’t embarrass myself by confessing how often I sent you that precise message. When I looked up in the music room and you were standing there, I thought, there’s a man who knows how to obey.”
It was his turn to laugh. “You’ll be the death of me.”
“I sincerely hope not. I rather enjoy your company. I’d hate to have you perish before you can shower me with more of it.”
“I’ll try to hold on—just for you.”
“Thank you.”
Their banter died down again, and he started to kiss her. He was still stretched out on top of her, his large body pressing her down. With his greater size, he should have seemed heavy, but he didn’t. She relished the solid feel of him, the weight of him. She couldn’t get enough.
She kissed him back enthusiastically. He was touching her all over, driving her to a chaotic state of excitement, and she was doing the same to him. He’d previously shown her some of the decadence he could produce, and she was anxious to let him proceed, to let him create all those wild sensations again.
But she was sufficiently rational that she realized they shouldn’t continue. He was disrobing her, unbuttoning her dress, baring her arms and shoulders.
She’d once told him she wasn’t loose, that she wasn’t easy, and if she wanted to coax him into a deeper relationship, she had to exhibit the moral traits of the virtuous person she’d always been.
She laid a hand on his, stilling his questing fingers.
“You’re awful,” she said. “You draw out the worst parts of my character so I’m eager to misbehave.”
“Wonderful.”
“But…I’m not going to.”
“Why not? I’ve typically found that it’s more fun to be naughty than to be nice.”
“You’re much too worldly for me. I can’t carry on as you do.”
“Does this mean I can’t kiss you anymore?”
“Absolutely not. You can kiss me as frequently as you like.”
“Praise be.” He raised an arrogant brow. “And how about sneaking into your room late at night? Are you barring me?”
“No, again, Lord Run. You may visit whenever you like—so long as you’re discreet and you mind your manners.”
“You make it difficult to rein in my base tendencies, but I’ll try my best.”
“After we’ve been friends for a while, you won’t have any base tendencies. I’ll drum them out of you.”
There was such a passionate look in his eye that she thought he might declare elevated feelings, and she was on tenterhooks, her pulse racing with exhilaration to hear what they would be.
Yet what he said was, “When we’re alone, would you call me Aaron? It wouldn’t be appropriate when we’re around the servants or the neighbors, but when we’re by ourselves, it would probably be all right. What do you think?”
She was so disappointed by the query. Not because he wanted a more intimate mode of address, but because she’d been prepared for a different remark entirely.
He was waiting for her reply, and she smiled, desperate to bring them back to the light, teasing place where they’d been through the whole encounter.
“Yes, I would be happy to call you Aaron when we’re alone, and you’ve already been calling me Evangeline, and now I give you my permission, you lucky dog.”
He swooped in and stole a last kiss, then he slid away and stood. She missed him instantly and could barely keep from begging him to lie down again.
“I traveled all day.” He was drooping, yawning. “I’m dead on my feet.”
“Then head for your bed, you silly man.”
“Unless you’d like to invite me to stay in yours?”
“No! I’m determined to show you that I am a virtuous young lady.”
“I find virtue to be highly overrated.”
“You do not.”
“Since I met you, my attitudes are changing.”
He swooped in again, palms on the mattress. He studied her, his beautiful blue eyes riveting, mesmerizing, then he took another quick kiss.
“Good night, Evangeline.”
“Good night, Aaron.”
At her use of his Christian name, he flashed a huge, beguiling smile.
“Join me for breakfast in the morning,” he said. “At ten.”
“I will.”
“Do you ride?”
“Yes.” Not very well, and not very often, but she wouldn’t tell him that.
“We’ll take a ride after we eat.”
“I’d like that very much.”
He dawdled, and they gaped like a pair of halfwits.