An Earl's Guide to Catch a Lady (12 page)

Pulling her slightly closer than was proper as the dance ended, he murmured into her ear, “You should have eloped with me when you had the chance, my dear.”

Evelyn burst out laughing. She should have known Belle wouldn’t keep her mouth shut.

“You considered eloping with him?”

The soft whisper laced with menace sounding behind them caused tiny vibrations to pierce Evelyn’s skin. She turned to face the Earl of Grey, whose eyes glittered with murderous intent and let out of soft sigh.

“Well, that depends on who you ask, I suppose,” she murmured, in no mood to explain gossip of the past. 

Besides, he had already proven he did not handle male friendships well.

“The subject came up on an occasion or two, but so far the lady has resisted my charms,” Wes drawled with a friendly smile, amused by the obvious display of temper.

Evelyn wanted to clobber him for his wicked sense of humor.

“The idea was rejected immediately,” Evelyn huffed.

Wes snorted. “I wouldn’t know since I was never part of that conversation, but then, the night is still young,” he gave Evelyn a pointed glance and chuckled when she gasped at the implication.

She would not run away with him to get away from the Earl!

He turned to Grey with a smile. “Grey,” he murmured with a nod before disappearing into the crowd.

Matthew seethed. Never had he experienced such jealous rage. Not even the night he’d found Charlotte in bed with his best friend.

“… fine evening tonight. Do you not agree, my lord?”

Evelyn’s words penetrated his burning rage and he frowned at her a light attempt at conversation. Here he battled his inner demons and she wanted to talk about the weather? Well, that was too bad.

“Do you find me so repulsive that you would rather elope with a fop than consider marrying me?”

A scowl replaced her thoughtful expression. “Wes is not a fop, and they were only rumors. I did not even know you at the time,” she replied indignantly.

“Wes?” he asked, his eyes narrowing to slits. “It seems to me you are on a first name basis with every man in London.”

“It would seem so,
my lord
. But to answer your question, I do not find you repulsive, but I would rather marry that fop than spend the rest of my life exiled in the country with only you as my companion.”

Her words gave him pause, and some of the stiffness eased from his body. So St. Aldwyn had been behind her departure from Bath after all, by tattling his intention to keep her at his estate. Damnation.

“Is that the only objection you have for not wanting to become my wife? You believe you would be exiled?”

“I do not believe anything. I know. But no, that is not the only reason,” Evelyn said, sensing a trap in his question but uncertain precisely what.

“Then by all means, enlighten me.”

Evelyn shifted on her feet before she replied, “Regardless of my reasons for refusing your offer, I will not be the pawn in your feud with the Marquis.”

“What the devil are you talking about?”

Evelyn crossed her arms. “You made it perfectly clear that your past was no business of mine and if your reaction and behavior is any indication, the only reason you’re determined I marry you is to get revenge on the friend who betrayed you six years ago.”

So this was the reason for her rejection. She thought he wanted to get back at St. Aldwyn. He supposed he could understand that. She didn’t know that somehow, in their short acquaintance she had broken through the walls of his defenses and slipped into his battered heart.

He scowled. “May I remind you I found you not once, but twice in that man’s arms?”

“We are just friends,” Evelyn murmured, her expression softening.

He took her hand in his. “You are not a pawn and I do not have some diabolical plan up my sleeve. Please give me a chance to prove that to you.”

Evelyn snatched her hand back, not believing him even though she saw nothing but truth in his eyes. Actions spoke louder than words. Besides, if what he said was true, it would only be countless times harder to fight his pursuit.

Smoothing her hands over her dress she prepared herself for an outburst.

“Even if you do prove to be sincere, I’m afraid I won’t change my mind on the matter, my lord.”

“Matthew,” he snapped, glaring at her. “I will not back off, Evelyn.”

She took a step back. “I have made my decision.”

“Is it not fair that you give me a chance to change your mind?”

Evelyn looked into those vivid green eyes, sincerity shining through them. She should say no, but that only seemed to make him more determined, so she gave a small nod.

The grin he gave her gave made her heart jump, but it was quickly replaced by a thundering mask by the next words blurted out of her mouth, “But that doesn’t mean you will be the only gentlemen vying for my hand.”

“Only moments ago you said you have made your decision,” he spat out.

He was right. But she wanted him to understand that he was not her only choice and he could not bully her into marriage. That and she wanted to ruffle his feathers.

“I will not go out of my way to gain the attention of some lord. But if you are given a chance, all will be given a chance.”

She held up her hand when he would have interrupted.

“After all,” she continued, “just because I’m marginally open to the prospect of marriage, doesn’t mean you should be my only choice.”

Matthew wanted to protest, but sensed it would only add to this ridiculous notion. He’d be dammed if he let her take another man! If she thought he would let some fop sniff around her skirts, she could think again. He would just have to ensure that there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that she belonged to him.

“Fine,” he bit out. “But you waltz with no one except me.”

“No,” she said, standing fast. She wasn’t about to let him dictate her life.

Her gaze suddenly darted beyond him, her eyes widening in delight.

Turning to see what had caught her attention he silently cursed under his breath. Her brother and his lapdog—St. Aldwyn—approached them. Westfield wore a huge grin on his face while the lapdog had his usual look of boredom about him. 

“Simon!” Evelyn exclaimed happily as she rushed passed him to greet her brother.

Westfield laughed as he enfolded his sister in his embrace. “It would seem I have been neglecting my brotherly duties of late, not being here to escort you to events.”

He glanced over to Matthew. “Grey,” he nodded with a smile. “Glad to see you have finally crawled out of your cave.”

Matthew, whose irritation emerged with that comment, muttered under his breath. “Westfield.”

He ignored St. Aldwyn.

“I see you’ve become acquainted with my sister,” Westfield continued happily. “I must warn you, she is the most pertinacious woman that ever lived.”

“Simon!” Evelyn said, heat flooding her cheeks.

Simon winked at her. “It is a confirmed fact, sis. There is no hope for you.” He put his hand dramatically over his heart.

Evelyn rolled her eyes. “Oh please.”

“I daresay it’s a trait we both share,” Matthew drawled. The challenge is his gaze unmistakable.

Damien, who had been quiet the whole time, turned to Grey. “So what has you ‘crawling out of your cave’ as Westfield so aptly put it?”

Matthew tensed. Though the question was innocent enough, he heard the true meaning behind it. His jaw hardened. “Business,” he bit out.

“Good, good,” Westfield said cheerfully.

“What kind of business?” Damien pressed, looking deceptively curious.

“The kind of business you shrink away from,” Matthew drawled.

Evelyn winced and her brother, who appeared unfazed by the tension that gripped the air, asked, “Oh? What kind might that be?”

“Marriage.”

Evelyn groaned when Simon stared at Matthew a heartbeat before his gaze flickered to her in question.

“Am I to assume that the two of you have formed an attachment?”

“No!” Evelyn cried out. “You are not to assume anything of the sort!”

Simon ignored her and looked to Matthew, lifting an inquisitive brow.

“Perhaps I should call on you in the morning?” Matthew asked her brother.

“What! Why?” Evelyn winced at the desperate note in her voice.

“Good, good,” her brother said, ignoring her. “I shall expect you after breakfast.”

Matthew nodded before turning to take her hand, but thought better of it when she glared at him, fire in those violet eyes.

Ah yes. They were both stubborn as hell.

“Until tomorrow, Lady Evelyn,” he said in a low, deliberate voice.

Evelyn could only stare in horror as he took his leave from them, making his way through the crowd toward the double doors, as though he had not just ruined her life.

“Evelyn?” her brother asked somewhat incredulous, looking at her with loaded questions in his eyes.

What was there to say? The Earl had made his intentions clear. She frowned when Damien winked at her. Why did he keep her secret? What was he waiting for, world war?

“Well, I daresay he plans to ask for permission to court you. Isn’t that grand?”

Evelyn scowled at her brother. Isn’t that just grand? Has he lost his marbles? The last thing she wanted was Simon encouraging this madness.

“You can’t seriously think to give him permission to court me!”

“Why not?” he asked, confused.

“Has it not occurred to you that I don’t want him to court me? That I do not want to marry him?” she whispered furiously.

“No one said anything about marriage my dear,” Damien put in, giving her brother an imploring look.

“Of course not!” Her brother agreed. “You don’t have to marry if you do not wish to. But I’m not turning him down just because you prefer to spend your days drawing treasure maps.”

When she stiffened he continued gently, “Look sis, I want you to be happy and all I’m asking is for you to try. You might be surprised at how things turn out.”

Evelyn searched her brother’s eyes. He seemed sincere that he would not force marriage on her. But like any other man, he was of the opinion that women could never be happy without a husband and although she had plenty to say about that, she knew his actions were motivated by love.

“Fine, I shall be open-minded about courtship, if it even is a courtship he wants.”

With those uttered words Evelyn suspected she had just given immeasurable power to the men in her life, thus ending life as she knew it. Her fate felt sealed. But sealed or not, she would not go down without a fight. She only hoped she could hold out long enough to be certain that when it came time to make the final decision, she would make the right one. 

“That is all I ask,” Simon said with a huge grin.

Chapter 10

There had always been some sort of satisfaction for Evelyn in rising early. While the ton preferred to stay in bed until noon, Evelyn enjoyed spending the mornings in the garden, whether soaking up a bit of morning sun or sitting in the shade reading a book. Sometimes, she would rise just before dawn to watch the first rays of sunlight stab into the darkness, barefoot traipsing on the wet surface to feel the grass between her toes.

Those days however were rare, since she was greeted almost always with grey clouds and murky skies, but it made them all the more special. There was something very magical in how the light chased away the darkness, but not this day, Evelyn reflected as she made her way down the stairs. While it was still early, she found no joy in this morning. Her sleep had been plagued by nightmares of the previous evening and not to mention haunted by images of a certain Earl.

Those blasted dreams were the last of her worries. He had shocked the whole ton in his pursuit of her, which wouldn’t have been so shocking if he hadn’t made it clear she was the only reason he endured the season. No one believed they had first met at Lady Chesterton’s ball, and heated looks notwithstanding, his gaze tracked her every move. Rumors were already starting.

Then there was the notorious troublemaker Damien, who still hadn’t said a word of her indiscretion to her brother. And yes, while he had given his word that he would keep her secret; she couldn’t bring herself to trust him entirely. Was there not a code of honor amongst men? Her brother wasn’t a simpleton. He would eventually put two and two together without anyone needing to inform him. Unless… No. The thought was too ridiculous to even consider and her mind would be better spent on what to do about Matthew.

If only this attraction between her and the Earl would go away. But every time he came near her, tiny prickles of awareness would race across her skin causing her to shiver. Then, when he spoke, the rough timber of his voice would flow through her veins, causing her body to go into a hypnotic state. She would imagine their bodies entwined together, leaving her with longing to be enfolded in his arms. It was becoming embarrassing, the way she lost control over her body and mind.

Luckily for her, time would cure this affliction. In the meantime she needed a distraction. Unfortunately nothing was more distracting than him stalking her every move. So, if no distractions could be found, Evelyn would simply have to create one, and she excelled at creating distractions. Her brother called it mischief, but they would have to agree to disagree.

Upon reaching the bottom of the stairs Evelyn’s mouth dropped open, unprepared for the sight that greeted her eyes. What in the good Lord’s name?

Their front hall had been filled with flowers, hundreds and hundreds of flowers. Lilies, roses, hyacinths, daisies, orchids and other plants she did not recognize and…Good heavens, was that a tree? Evelyn blinked, and then lowered her lashes. This must be a dream. But when her eyes opened again the flowers had not magically disappeared.

She stood on the bottom step and marveled at the different colors that sprang forth from every flower, every plant. The tree’s considerable size would have made it a difficult feat to transport, yet its impact gave great aesthetic pleasure. So arresting was the sight before her that it was as though she had stepped out from her own world and into another.

Evelyn inhaled deeply, and the smell of earthy sweetness overwhelmed her senses.

“What the devil?”

Evelyn turned just in time to see Simon’s mouth fall open as he joined her on the bottom step. She suppressed the smile that threatened to spread across her face. Gaping wasn’t a good look on her brother.

“Is that a tree?” She heard him ask, his voice incredulous.

“It would seem so,” she murmured, her gaze returning to the lovely sight of colors.

“Bloody hell. Whoever sent all these flowers should be banned from this planet.”

Evelyn laughed. “It must have cost a fortune.”

Simon gave her a suspicious look. “Do you know who sent them?”

“I have no idea,” Evelyn answered, her gaze never straying from the array of colors.

“Walter!” Simon boomed.

Evelyn grinned. “Curious, aren’t we?”

Simon winked at her. “Who wouldn’t want to know this madman’s identity, especially when he’s sending your beloved sister a fortune’s worth of flowers?”

“Perhaps they are for you.”

“Now that,” Simon said aghast, “would be beyond disturbing.”

Walter appeared so suddenly both Simon and Evelyn jumped.

“Good morning my Lord, Lady Evelyn,” he greeted as he held out a card. It had always been rather eerie how he seemed to know exactly what would be asked of him.

Evelyn suppressed a laugh as she took the card from Walter. He had flower petals sticking out of his impeccably styled hair.

Taking a deep breath she opened the note, hoping it wasn’t from who she suspected.

“There’s no name,” she murmured, mostly for the benefit of her brother. Her eyes widened as she read the words.

“One flower for every sparkle that enters my eyes when I gaze upon your breathtaking beauty.”

Laughter bubbled forth from her. It was the worst attempt at poetry she’d ever come across. Well, at least now she knew for certain Matthew had not sent these flowers. He would never speak such drivel, let alone write it. She was however, intrigued. Who would go to such lengths to capture her attention, yet not leave his name?

Simon snatched the note from her hand and read the verse. Snorting he said, “Still can’t see where that bloody tree fits in.”

“It would seem I have a secret admirer.”

He handed her back the note.

“It’s those damn dresses you’ve been wearing.”

Evelyn rewarded him with a huge grin, ridiculously pleased at his grumbling tone. She supposed she shouldn’t be surprised she had drawn the attention of some gentlemen.

“Do you want me to get rid of it?” he asked, waving his hands at the hall containing all the flowers.

“Do not even dare! We can arrange them throughout the house, I think. It would be a shame to waste so many beautiful flowers.”

Simon only grunted his response.

Walter had already shouted the orders.

“Just get rid of that damn tree.”

Evelyn frowned at his sudden foul mood as she followed him to the breakfast room. Whatever was the matter with him? One moment he smiled the next he’d turned surly. She settled down across from him and regarded him thoughtfully.

“What has your briefs in a twist, brother?”

He gave her a droll stare. “It’s not ladylike to refer to the undergarments of a man, Evelyn.”

“Very well, I shan’t refer to you undergarments. Does it perhaps have to do with a young widow you fancy?”

“Evelyn!”

She lifted her hands in defeat. “I’m merely enquiring after you mood.”

Walter appeared at the door.

“The Earl of Grey for his lordship.”

Evelyn’s blood turned to ice at Walter’s announcement. He was early.

Simon gave her a pointed stare before he stood. She heard the scrape of his chair against the marble floor, heard his footsteps padding toward the door and disappearing into the hall, but still she could only stare at the empty space her brother had just occupied.

An uneasy feeling began to work up to the center of her heart. She felt like a caged animal, cornered with no hope of escape. Would he inform Simon of her indiscretion? But even as she thought the question she already knew the answer. He said as much last evening. He was declaring his intentions and might even demand her hand in marriage in light of her ruination.

Gathering her scattered wits Evelyn centered her thoughts on the light that always chased away the darkness.

With deliberate movements she stood. He thought he had everything under control. Let him play his little game. She would not bet on the outcome.

“Let me get this straight,” Westfield said with barely veiled amusement. “You expect me to believe that my sweet, loving sister, Evelyn, not only stole your horse, but stole it clad a shirt that belonged to you, which she also stole after waking up in your bed, having passed out after over imbibing in wine?”

“Yes.”

Westfield sat back in his chair and regarded Grey from across his desk speculatively before he continued, “Then you gave chase, found her lying muddied and unconscious in the road after which you escorted her back to the Inn, on foot no less, and where she in return ran away from you, after you so thoughtfully helped her.”

“Yes,” Matthew ground out.

“You found her in Bristol dressed as a boy, learning upon your arrival she stayed in a men’s establishment. You then took it upon yourself to escort her back to your own lodgings in Bath where you proceeded to compromise her, after which, she ran away yet again.”

“Yes.”

“You found her at our Aunt’s residence in the arms of St. Aldwyn, and confronted him, which eventually led to the two of you brawling in the breakfast room.”

“Yes.”

Westfield let out an incredulous breath. “You then bribed my Aunt’s servants into spying on Evelyn and returned later that day only to discover that she had run away. Again.”

“Yes,” Matthew bit out in frustration. “It sounds ridiculous when you put it like that,” he grumbled.

“You must forgive me, while your story is quite intriguing, it does border on the ridiculous. My sister gets into trouble yes, but never like this, though she does seem different somehow.”

That caught Matthew’s attention. “Different?” he asked curiously.

Westfield regarded him in silent contemplation before he answered, “Evelyn has become… how to put it… more daring and bold. Not to mention the transformation of wardrobe. Yet there is also a sense of sadness that surrounds her. I haven’t been able to put a name to it yet.”

“You haven’t questioned her about this sudden change?”

“Good lord no!” Westfield exclaimed with a hint of a smile. “I am too relieved she’s finally climbed out of the shell she’s been hiding in and is partaking in the real world.”

“Am I to presume then, you have no aversion to my courting Evelyn?”

“I do not,” Westfield said cautiously. “But regardless of her actions, which I have yet to hear her side of, I will not force the situation on her. Whether she accepts you or not, it will be her choice, not mine.”

Matthew grunted. He had hoped Westfield would force the issue, but knew that while this family stayed within the norms of society and its rules, they weren’t slaves to it. Yet a voice at the far back of his mind, one he had no intention of acting upon, whispered tales of doubt. Why did Westfield not rage for his sister’s loss of innocence?

Matthew stood. “I trust this conversation will stay between us,” he asked politely, even though it was in no way framed as a question.

“Of course,” Westfield nodded, rising as well. “But understand that if I keep this conversation between us, I cannot hear my sister’s side and will I only be left with your story.”

Matthew understood. He could live with that.

“But the next time you feel the need to send flowers, keep it to a dozen or so, and don’t include a damn tree.”

Matthew stilled, his face darkening into a scowl.

“I didn’t send flowers, nor did I see a tree.”

Westfield gawked at him. “Saints man, you couldn’t have missed a bloody tree in my front hall.”

Matthew’s scowl deepened. There had been a tree in the front hall? Now that he thought about it, it wasn’t impossible. He would have thought nothing of it had he seen it. Considering what he knew of Westfield, it was rather telling, to not even notice a tree in the front hall. The flowers on the other hand must have been cleared seeing as he would have noticed those, and only because it meant some poor bastard had no sense of self-preservation.

“Hell Grey, the fact that you didn’t notice a tree—”

Matthew interrupted with a snort, and then said, “Says more about you Westfield than it does about me.”

Simon chuckled. “Debatable, my friend.”

“Do you know who sent the flowers?” Matthew asked. Irritation made his voice sound clipped.

Westfield shook his head. “Unsigned note, I’m afraid. Who the hell would send a bloody tree?”

“A note?”

“Some rot about sparkling eyes.”

Matthews cursed. Of course it hadn’t been signed. No man would be fool enough to court Evelyn openly after he publically staked his claim. This fool better get out of his way before Matthew destroyed him.

By the time Matthew reached his town house two hours later, his temper hung by a thread. According to the servants Evelyn had disappeared during his meeting with her brother without in-forming them of her whereabouts. Only after Westfield mentioned the flowers and that damn tree, did he see those blasted flowers everywhere he looked. He also learned (after bribing a maid) that Evelyn had laughed after she read the note and ordered the flowers to be arranged throughout the house.