An Earl's Guide to Catch a Lady (8 page)

Evelyn sucked in her breath. His eyes burned bright with desire and she was struck once again by how beautiful he was, his eyes holding her soul captive. He was giving her one last chance to stop, but she wanted him with a desperate need that scared her. Tomorrow she would kick herself and drown in her mistake, but today she would take this one chance she had to be with him.

“Please.”

Matthew dragged a finger down her throat, circling her breasts and then gently squeezing them.

“I’m going to give you so much pleasure, Evelyn,” he said as her fingers curled into the soft dark strands at his nape before making their way to his chest. She did not doubt that he would. He closed his mouth over her nipple and she felt she would burst into flames at any moment.

Whispered uttering reached her ears but she did not care to listen. All she could think about was his tongue and the magic it made against her skin. His hand slid between her legs and she gasped at the sensation, arching off the bed. She smiled in satisfaction as his moan of pleasure reached her ears.

Then his finger slipped inside her, stroking her inner softness with a languid rhythm. Oh goodness. His devilry was beyond pleasurable.

He crouched over her and trailed kisses down her neck. “I want to be inside you,” came his husky whisper. “You’re so lovely, Evelyn.” He nudged her legs apart and settled between her thighs. “I can’t wait anymore, sweetheart.” Evelyn didn’t want him to speak anymore. She wanted him to make love to her.

Matthew stared down at her, his body shaking with need. He couldn’t believe his reaction to this little slip of a woman. It shook him like nothing ever had.

Placing a gentle kiss on her nose, he nudged strongly into her, his eyes never leaving hers, cradling her body close to his as he felt her tense against his invasion. In one powerful thrust he broke through her barrier, soothing her with kisses when she stiffened in his arms.

Evelyn’s nails dug into his skin as the pain slowly ebbed away, leaving only pleasure in its wake. She let her hands slide down to his chest as he started moving inside her, her legs wrapping around him. He continued to move forward, then pulled back, keeping a steady rhythm that made her want to go mad from desire and a need for something more. Impatient for something more she started moving with him, matching his thrusts and then it began to build inside her, a mounting pressure of... something else. She didn’t know what it was; only that she wanted to hold on to that feeling.

“Evelyn,” he growled in her ear, his thrust quickening. And then it came—an explosion erupted inside her, currents of heat that caused her to cry out in pleasure. 

She felt his movements grow even more frenzied and then he too cried out, a low guttural sound, his as he spent himself inside her. His breathing hard he rained tender kisses down on her face, overcome by an emotion so intense he started to shake and deep inside him, something shattered.

He marveled at the beauty of her. Nothing in his life had ever compared to what he felt at this very moment.

“Promise me you won’t leave again?” He whispered into her hair. “Promise me you will stay.”

Evelyn nodded, curling up in his arms. She closed her eyes and drifted into a peaceful slumber, wishing that this moment could last forever.

Evelyn woke later alone in the large bedroom. Blinking sleepily, she propped herself up on one elbow, glancing at the empty space beside her. Never would she have imagined that being with a man, could have felt so magical and so pleasurable.

Matthew.
His name was a soft whisper in her mind.

She’d promised not to leave, but could he really expect her to keep her word? Or her nod of agreement, as it was.

Dazed in the aftermath of their love making she would have promised him anything.

It felt like forever ago that she departed from London. So much had happened, and she felt caught up in the uncertainty of it all. Could she marry Matthew? He was almost enough to make her second guess her decision to remain unmarried. Almost.

So the answer remained no. The knowledge of that made matters infinitely worse. She had given in to his seduction without any intention of marriage. It made her no better than Damien or any other scoundrel who used desire for their own selfish gain. Gah! She had become the female equivalent of a rake. Yet she did not regret their night of marvelous passion.

She did however believe that what she and Matthew had shared was an act so beautiful, it should only be shared by a husband and wife in love, and not be wasted on meaningless entanglements, created so people could express their love to one another truthfully and intimately. Did she love Matthew? She cared for him certainly, but that did not mean she loved him?

Evelyn sighed heavily, falling back on the mattress. She had wanted this, had known what she was getting into, but one moment of passion did not determine the outcome of her future. The curious ache in her heart rather disagreed.

Nevertheless, Evelyn could not make a decision and he would never let her go if she stayed. She wasn’t ready for what he wanted, what he demanded of her, so she had no choice but to break her nod of promise and leave.

Reluctantly rising from the warmth of the bed, she quickly dressed. Evelyn still didn’t completely understand why Matthew was so determined that they marry. One thing was quite clear though, if his pursuit had been resolute at best after they shared a few kisses, he would be relentless now.

The night was eerily silent as she moved toward the door, her heart heavy and her steps hesitant. Creeping down the stairs was easy enough; it was the silence that unnerved her. There wasn’t even a creak in the floor board. Where was Matthew?

Her footsteps silently padded along the hallway as she made her way to the front door. It would be locked so she would have to climb through one of the windows in the waiting room. Rubbing her hands together in anticipation, her heart started to race in excitement. She felt like a spy out of a grand story.

Oh, she was created to be sneaky.

The room she entered had a wide array of windows encompassing the one side of the room. Splendid. Evelyn rushed to the nearest window, not bothering to study the room. She quickly un-hooked the latch, groaning as she strained to open it.

“Piece of cake, Evelyn,” she croaked, before the window suddenly opened. With a breathless sigh she congratulated herself with a pat on her shoulder. Poking her head out of the window, Evelyn breathed in the fresh evening air. How delightful. Then she noticed the roses all along the side of the walls.

Not so delightful.

She would have to jump over them.

Positioning herself in a sitting position she inhaled a deep breath and counted to three.

One, two, three, jump!

She hit the ground with an ungraceful thud.

She straightened, giving her body a second to recover. The landing had been a bit harder than she expected. She glanced around, trying to make sense of where exactly she was. It looked familiar, but she couldn’t be certain. Starting forward she wondered what would Matthew do if he found her now? The image was so unsettling that she quickly glanced up at the window and calculated the risk to climb back up again. No, that would not work. Perhaps knock on the front door? She shook her head. That wouldn’t work either.

It was exhausting, this battle between her mind and heart; her practical side warring with her desires. Would she ever go back to being dull Evelyn again? Not that she thought she was dull, but everyone else seemed to.

After walking a few feet Evelyn recognized her surroundings. Her aunt lived not far from here. It was times like these that she wished she had paid better attention to gossip, because quite frankly, if she had she would have known precisely who this friend of Matthew’s was. If it even was a friend.

The air had a cold bite as she approached the residence of her Aunt Agatha. Or perhaps that was the cold nip of panic, stabbing at her body like tiny daggers.

What explanation to give her aunt for arriving without her carriage, belongings, footman or maid? She could say they had been held up by robbers, and after her maid and footman had been slain, she had stolen the clothing of a boy which enabled her to escape her fate.

Or she could just say that the carriage had caught fire and all her belongings were burned, then she’d traded her clothing for that of a boy’s, because if afforded her more comfort, and her footman and maid fell in love and abandoned her for the open seas.

Oh stop with your wild imaginings, Evelyn
! She berated herself. There were much more important things to do first, arriving home safely being one of them.

Evelyn stopped suddenly as her Aunt’s home came into view. How odd, Evelyn thought, there was light coming from most of the ground floor windows. A shiver of trepidation ran down her spine. Was it possible her aunt was aware that Evelyn should have arrived days ago? That would mean Simon would be aware of her late arrival as well, which meant he would be here, or well on his way. 

Evelyn hadn’t even been aware her feet had moved until she stood a few feet away from the front door. Perhaps she should try to enter through the back unnoticed. That way she could find out what she would be dealing with and how explosive the situation.

The front door suddenly burst open, and a man came rushing out. He froze at the sight of her. She froze at the sight of him. They both regarded each other in stunned silence for what seemed an eternity before all hell broke loose.

“What the devil is going on?” he bellowed as he rushed down the steps toward her. “And why the hell are you dressed like a boy?”

Evelyn flinched. She would be surprised if the whole of Bath hadn’t heard his bellowing. She contemplated turning on her heels and run as fast as she could in the opposite direction but her traitorous legs would not move.

“Why are you looking at me so funny?”

Evelyn heard the questions but was unable to make a sound, because looming over her with anger defining every strong line of his face, stood the last person she ever expected to see.

Her fake betrothed, Damien Grenville, the Marquis of St. Aldwyn.

Chapter 7

Evelyn stood in the drawing room staring into a pair of coal black eyes. They missed nothing, not even the dirt on her boots was overlooked.

“Have you been compromised?”

The question didn’t come as a shock. It was a fair assumption, but proved to be her undoing.

“Yes!” she cried out unable to stop herself. “I am completely and utterly ruined.”

She could tell by the widening of his eyes he had not expected her admission. The scorn would follow soon, she was sure of it, and not being able to stand the disappointment that would eventually follow, Evelyn rushed for the door, determined to lock herself in her room for the rest of her days. Unfortunately Damien was much faster than her and before Evelyn could even reach the door he slammed it shut, turning the lock in place.

She stared at him incredulously. “Are you mad?”

He caught her shoulders and gave her a gentle shake. “Yes, but my madness aside, I have questions that need answers. Or should we go pay a visit to your dear ignorant brother?”

Evelyn stilled. “Where is Simon?” she whispered in alarm.

“At home would be my guess.”

Wait, what? “Why are you here then?” she asked and then suspiciously, “And where is my aunt?”

Her hands went to her hips. Something was not quite right with this image.

“I had business to attend in the area and thought I would pop in for tea,” Damien explained with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Imagine my shock to not only learn your aunt has been away for weeks, and that you never made it to Bath. Naturally I became concerned.”

“How did you know I would be in Bath?” Evelyn asked skeptically, still not certain whether to trust him. It seemed too remarkable that she’d named him as her fake betrothed and then he suddenly appeared as if he’d been summoned.

He gave her a pointed look. Evelyn nodded. Yes of course, Simon.

“Where is my aunt?” she asked again.

“Visiting a friend in Scotland, I am told.”

Evelyn’s brow furrowed. Drat. Aunt Agatha usually sent word whenever she left for Scotland. Perhaps she had, and Simon had forgotten about it? It seemed unlikely, but…

She crossed her arms. “You own no residence in Bath or the nearby area,” she held up her hand when he would have interrupted, “and why would you pop in for tea? You don’t strike me as the sort that drinks tea, let alone pops in for some.”

There was no hiding the suspicious note in her in her voice and for a brief moment (one Evelyn relished in) a look of utter surprise entered his sable eyes before it quickly disappeared.

“Lady Evelyn, have you been reading up on me?” he asked, a sly smile tugging on his lips, giving him the rakish appearance women so often fell in love with.

Evelyn had to admit it was quite distracting, not just his smile, but his presence in her home, where they were alone, behind a locked door.

“No.” But someone else has, though she didn’t voice that part. Oddly enough her mood had improved, her earlier outburst almost forgotten.

“You still haven’t answered my question.” She had an odd notion he knew exactly where she heard it. But that would be impossible.

“You never asked me a question, Lady Evelyn. You merely pointed out the fact that I don’t own any residences in or near the surrounding area.”

Evelyn blinked. He was right and with that the last of her doubt slowly disappeared. She would not jump to conclusions as she had with the note in Matthew’s pocket. Damien had no hidden agenda, and she had no need to be suspicious of him. There was also no denying the relief she felt that it had been Damien, and not her brother, that caught her.

“Will you tell me what happened that you,” he motioned to her attire, “ended up dressed like that?”

She gave a hesitant nod, a hint of a smile tugging at her lips. He was such a scoundrel, and he already knew she had been compromised. What harm could it be? The fact that this was Damien, Matthew’s arch enemy did not even matter. She was in desperate need to confide in someone, and he would do just fine.

But could she trust him? Probably not.

Without further ado, she relayed every detail of what had transpired, from the moment her maid turned ill up to meeting Matthew and believing him to be a villain of sort. She even told him of her unfortunate lie, naming of him as her fake betrothed.

Up to that part he had listened in earnest, not once interrupting or laughing at her foolish behavior, but he blanched at that. She had to give him credit; he did not even make a sound when he motioned for her to continue after she hesitated, watching for his reaction. Without delay she finished her story with the tale of Bristol and being kidnapped (for lack of better word) by Matthew but did leave out the intimate details of her ultimate ruination.

Then he astonished her by doing the most unexpected thing. He pulled her into his embrace and hugged her, with a hold so tender she thought he might be afraid that she would shatter at his merest touch. They stood awkwardly for a moment, she stunned, he comforting, before her arms enfolded him back. He was warm and incredibly solid, holding her with all his strength.

Evelyn released a sigh of contentment. It felt good to be comforted, albeit strange that it came from him, but still good.

“Tsk-Tsk,” he murmured in a soft tone of voice, “everything will turn out for the best.”

Such tenderness and concern from a rake who rarely showed compassion was almost too incredible for Evelyn. Her lips turned upward, knowing that this was a once in a lifetime moment.

She looked up at him then. “I shall take your word for it,” she paused, then said, “and thank you for your kindness. It is rather sweet of you,” she finished with emphasis on the word sweet, and had to bite her lip to keep from laughing at his expression.

“Sweet,” Damien echoed, his mouth curling with disgust, as if the word appalled him. “I think—”  

A loud hammering outside the drawing room interrupted him midsentence. Their startled gazes flew to the door. Then the hammering suddenly stopped, followed by shouting and something crashing against the wall.

“What the—”

“Evelyn!” A furious voice shouted.

Her blood ran cold, and she watched with a sinking heart as Damien’s eyes narrowed on the door.

“Evelyn!” The shout came again, followed by pounding on the door.

Evelyn stood frozen, her mind refusing all thoughts that it was Matthew shouting her name and pounding against their only exit.

“Is that who I think it is?” Damien asked her in what she could only presume was disbelief.

“Who do you think it is?”

Her question was lost in another loud crash. Neither of them made a move toward the door or a sound that would make their presence known. The pounding on the door stopped again, and Evelyn let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She pushed out of Damien’s embrace, but jumped closer when a loud crack sounded against the door. It almost sounded like a—

Another loud crack. Then another. One last deafening crack and suddenly Matthew stood in the doorway, the door hanging on its hinges. Evelyn couldn’t stop the gasp that escaped her lips at the sight of him. His was jaw set in a harsh line, his teeth clenched tightly while his broad chest rose and fell in short labored breaths. Shoulders bunched like a warrior his fists clenched at his side.

Oh dear.

His gaze darted back and forth between her and Damien before it settled on her waist, which still had male arms around her. He glared at Damien as if he would like nothing more than to rip him to pieces. It was clear he did not like the picture they made for his eyes promised murder.

Somehow Evelyn pushed away from Damien and he let her go, his face an unreadable mask and his eyes devoid of emotion. A shiver of unease ran through her.

Then, Matthew’s penetrating gaze turned to her. She saw the flash of agony before it was gone. Her heart pinched.

“What are you doing, Evelyn?” he asked, his voice barely an audible whisper.

Her chest tightened. Anger she would have understood, she had made a promise, but this heartbroken question, it scorched her soul. She could no more answer than she could set herself on fire.

Her fake betrothed regarded her with laid back interest, obviously expecting her to answer the question, amusement apparent in his bearing. The devil.

“I came to collect some belongings?” Evelyn lamely attempted to lighten the mood.

If anything, his face became even harsher, his eyes shooting daggers at them.

“It would seem that I have interrupted an intimate moment,” he growled, his breath coming out in harsh gasps. Noticeable tremors racked his body.

“Matthew—”

“Enough Evelyn! Enough of your lies!” he roared.

He took a step forward.

She took a step back.

There was nothing she could say that would not add to his fury. He was beyond all reasoning. By leaving, when she let him believe she would not, she had pushed him over the edge.

“Do you have nothing to say?”

Why yes, she had plenty to say. Only she did not think it would be in the best interest of her health to do so. Apparently Damien thought so as well. She spared him a quizzical look when he stepped closer to her and then blinked when he winked at her.

Stunned she watched him face Matthew with a seriousness that could not have been real. The man had just winked at her!

“Settle your feathers, Grey. Obviously there is more to the story than what you witnessed. Why don’t we all just sit down and discuss this like adults?”

Grey?

“You can do as you like St. Aldwyn,” Matthew practically shouted. “What I would like to know,” he said raking his murderous eyes over Evelyn, “is why you left my bed in the dead of the night to be with him?”

“Have you not heard the happy news?” Damien asked in a syrupy voice laced with sarcasm, “I have become betrothed.”

Evelyn felt her cheeks flame at Matthew’s crude question and Damien’s ill-humored reminder of her lie. She would punch the scoundrel later. But Matthew, did he truly believe she was that sort of woman? Of course he did. She had so effectively weaved a web of lies that she was now caught in her own tangle.

Then a spark of recognition ignited at Damien’s earlier reference to Matthew.

“Grey? As in the Earl of Grey?” she asked incredulously, glancing at Damien for confirmation when Matthew only stiffened. 

“You didn’t know who he was?” Damien asked as confusion lit his brow.

“I…”

And just like that everything suddenly made sense. The whisper of familiarity that never seemed far away, that he stood in her home at this very moment, the reason he felt a sense of duty toward her. She recalled (somewhat vaguely) that he and Simon had once been close friends, together with Damien, if she was not mistaken. He’d left London about six years ago, which is why Evelyn hadn’t recognized him. She would have only been fifteen, not yet presented to society and it wasn’t often that Simon visited home with his friends.

Her eyes met Matthew’s in full recognition. “All this time, you knew who I was?” Her voice sounded foreign even to her own ears.

He didn’t look away as he said, “No, I learned your identity after I left the Inn, but I had my suspicions.”

That still meant he had known when he’d found her in Bristol, and when he’d seduced her.

Something fractured inside her. It was hard to say exactly what, but anger clouded her vision.  “You cad! You seduced me knowing who I was!”

Her outburst only enraged him further. “I gave you ample time to come forth with the truth. The only thing, it seemed, that you didn’t lie about was being betrothed to him.”

Evelyn winced. Granted it must look rather bad, she and Damien together, especially since her aunt wasn’t in residence. Add the fact that it had been Damien who’d betrayed him all those years ago, made it all the more horrid. But he had lied as well.

He gave a humorous laugh. “So you were travelling to Bath to meet you lover after all.”

“You know that’s not true,” Evelyn said softly.

He ignored her. “Is this the type of woman you are? Bedding one man while betrothed to another?”

Evelyn gasped as her eyes darted between the two men. His hostile tone immediately brought a chill to the room.

Damien growled, the twitch in his jaw belying his calm demeanor.

“You will apologize. Right. Now.”

Evelyn stared at them, at once understanding that betrayal wasn’t the only reason why these two men hated each other.

Charlotte.

The name drifted through her mind with painful clarity. This was not about her. It never had been. Matthew did not care whether she left him or not. But it galled him to no end that it was Damien she was leaving him for. She was just a pawn, a means to an end.

Distantly she became aware that the men were now shouting at one another, but paid them no mind. Her thoughts were crowded by the faceless woman named Charlotte.

“Are you challenging me to a duel?” Damien asked incredulous.

“Name your second,” Matthew growled.