How to Plan a Wedding for a Royal Spy (12 page)

Calista's venom shocked them all into silence for a good five seconds, making the gay chatter and clinking of crystal and china around them sound inordinately loud.

Will recovered first, speaking in low tones that vibrated with anger. “Lady Calista, I hardly think your opinion on such matters—”

“Never mind, Will,” Evie said, cutting him off. She stretched her arm across the table, picked up a plate of strawberry shortcake, and flipped the contents onto the bodice of Calista's primrose-colored, cambric gown. One strawberry bounced and lodged itself in an elaborate knot of lace at the center of her bodice.

With everyone gaping in astonishment, Evie leveled a sugary smile at Calista, who was sputtering with incoherent fury. “Dear me,” she said, “you are
so
right, Lady Calista. I am the clumsiest creature on the planet.”

Still smiling, Evie glanced at Will. When their gazes locked, his mouth clamped into a tight line that began to quiver suspiciously, as if he were repressing laughter.

“Well done, Miss Evie,” Gilbride murmured, “but prepare to take heavy fire in return.”

When she followed the direction of his pointed stare, her heart sank. Standing behind Will's broad shoulders was Evie's mother, her face taut with anger. Beside her, as terrible luck would have it, was Lady Corbendale—Calista's mother.

Evie rummaged in her jewelry case for her garnet earbobs, though she had little desire to get dressed this morning. She had even less desire to sit with her mother and wait for the callers who would surely arrive to salivate over last night's debacle. The scene with Calista wasn't the most salacious of scandals but would provide at least a week's worth of embarrassing gossip.

Mamma was furious that she'd been forced to utter an abject apology to Lady Corbendale, one of the haughtiest doyennes of the
ton
. But Evie had to give her mother credit. After the apology had been offered up, she'd acted as if nothing untoward had occurred. Mamma had taken Gilbride's arm with a dignity even the queen couldn't match, smiling graciously at their acquaintances as they left the supper room. Naturally, tittering remarks had followed in their wake, but Lord Bromley, for one—a shy but very nice man—had given Evie a thumb's up as she passed. Another dashing young man by the door had murmured a
well done, Miss Whitney,
as she walked by.

And Will, she discovered,
had
been trying not to laugh. He'd escorted her and Eden downstairs to the carriage, and she could feel his big body shaking with repressed laughter the entire way. Eden had then started to giggle, and Evie had been forced to hiss at both of them to be quiet.

But no one laughed once they got into the carriage. Not even Will's affectionate good-bye—he'd kissed Evie's hand before helping her step up into the barouche—had done much toward staving off the shame she felt under the lash of her mother's tongue. Mamma had made it clear that she'd had enough of Evie's inappropriate social behavior and all but forbade her from seeing Michael. When Eden had mounted a vigorous defense, Mamma had ordered her to hold her tongue.

When they reached home, their mother had sent them straight upstairs, forbidding them from even talking with each other. Normally, she and Eden ignored that sort of edict, but Evie was feeling too low at that point to talk to anyone, even her twin.

The worst was that she still didn't know how she felt about Will. He'd run frustratingly hot and cold all evening. One moment he seemed to be flirting with her, the next he was ignoring her. After that, he was finding her an unparalleled source of amusement. The confusing end to a horrible evening had included—least she be tempted to forget—a public snub by a royal duke.

She sighed as she inserted the bobs in her earlobes and then turned on the padded chair at her dressing table when the connecting door to Eden's room opened.

“Well, you certainly look like you lost your best friend,” her sister commented. As always, she looked perfect in the floating muslins that fluttered around her neat ankles and pretty pink shoes.

“If Mamma has anything to say about it, I think I will have,” Evie said.

Eden threw her a quizzical look as she flopped down in the armchair in front of the fireplace, still managing to look graceful. “I thought
I
was your best friend.”

Evie frowned. “You're more than that. You're part of me, and I couldn't live without you.”

“Just checking,” Eden said. “You mean Michael, I suppose, but you're not to worry about him. I already talked to Papa about last night, and he promised to take care of Mamma.”

Evie perked up. “He did? What did he say?”

“At first he was inclined to be annoyed with you, but when I explained what actually happened—” She paused to peer through the open door, checking for eavesdroppers before continuing. “Suffice it to say that Papa found the entire episode rather hilarious. He suggested that you keep your head low for a few days and try not to irritate Mamma further. Of course, we all know how easy that will be.”

The tight feeling around Evie's chest eased for the first time since last night. She adored her father. He never thought her silly for preferring books and charity work to flirting with young men, and had never failed to deflect Mamma's temper when it became necessary. He quite liked Michael, too, although the jury was still out when it came to his granting permission for them to be married. Despite Papa's easygoing nature, last night's episode would not advance Michael's case.

“That's a relief,” she said. “Everything is a bit easier to bear knowing Papa isn't angry with me. I hope Mamma won't hold on to it for too long, especially when it comes to Michael.”

“I wouldn't bet on that,” Eden said. “You know what the old girl's like. She loathes being humiliated, especially in front of someone as high in the instep as Lady Corbendale.”

Evie dropped her forehead into her palms. Her sister was right. Her mother would no doubt put her foot down, both about Michael and her charity work. Even before this Mamma barely tolerated her
little hobby,
as she called it.

Eden came to kneel beside her, sliding one arm around her shoulders. “Evie, you worry too much.”

She met her twin's sympathetic gaze with a grimace. “I made such a mess of things. I know what Calista is like, and I should have ignored her.”

Her sister sat back on her heels and grinned. “I'm just relieved that it's not me causing the scandal. And tipping that plate down Calista's scrawny bosom was a splendid moment. I only wish I'd thought of it.”

Evie wrinkled her nose. “I wish you had too.”

Her sister scrambled to her feet and pulled Evie out of her chair. “Listen, darling, it's not a bad thing to kick over the traces now and again. You're much too serious. Sometimes you act like an old lady, as if your life is already over.”

“I do no such thing.”

“You do, and as much as I like Michael, he's not much better. You bring out the worst in each other.”

Evie tugged her hands away. “I prefer to think we bring the best out in each other.”

Her sister's response was a derisive snort.

“Well, what do you want me to do?” Evie asked defensively. “I'm not you. It's not like I have suitors lined up around the block.”

“You need to give Wolf a chance,” Eden said.

Evie stared at her sister, wondering if she'd heard her correctly. She had to swallow twice before she could manage an answer. “You're wrong if you think Will is courting me. And I wouldn't want him to, anyway.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yes, really, and this is a stupid conversation.” Evie headed to the door. “I'm going down. I'm sure Mamma is waiting for us in the drawing room.”

“She is, and we've already got a visitor.”

“But it's not even eleven o'clock.” Clearly the news about last night's incident was traveling about town even more quickly than she expected.

“This is a
special
visitor, one you will surely wish to see.”

Evie could hear the note of mischief in her sister's voice. “Who is it?”

Eden grinned. “It's Wolf, and I do believe he's most eager to see you.”

 

 

Will was beginning to regret his choice of seating. Every time he moved the delicate chair squeaked alarmingly beneath him, as if about to collapse. But Lady Reese had not given him much choice. She'd waved him to it while she ensconced herself in the middle of a much sturdier chaise covered in Chinese-patterned silk. Not that he had any intention of complaining, since he'd half been expecting Evie's mother to bar him from the premises. He wouldn't blame her if she did, since he was ultimately the author of Evie's current plight.

But Will's father had stolen a march on him last night, insisting on introductions. It had been the first step on the path to disaster. Logic had dictated the necessity of keeping Evie as far away from the duke as possible until the conspirators had been exposed and the plot against the government thwarted. If Will had been thinking logically, he would have whisked her away to some quiet alcove or even to the supper room as soon as Alec distracted Beaumont. Then, he could have extracted a commitment from her to visit St. Margaret's as soon as possible.

Instead, he'd asked her to waltz with him, and that had been his undoing. Because once he'd pulled Evie into his arms, his logic had collapsed as soon as those soft, generous curves had nestled against him. Keeping his eyes pinned to her face hadn't made rational thought any easier, since she seemed to get prettier every time he saw her. He'd forgotten how gloriously big and blue her eyes were behind those spectacles. Along with her sweet face and her thick, honey-colored hair, it added up to an enchanting package.

As for her lush pink mouth . . . all Will had been able to envision were her lips on his body, kissing their way down to his—

“May I refresh your tea, Captain?” Lady Reese enquired. “Or perhaps you'd like me to ring for a cool glass of lemonade. You look rather flushed.”

What the hell was he doing, sitting in the Reese drawing room having fantasies about Evie with her mother not three feet away?

“No, thank you, my lady,” he said, dredging up a smile. “It is rather warm out, but I do believe it's perfect weather for a carriage ride.”

That bit of idiocy had her ladyship casting a doubting glance out the window. Though it was mild enough, the heavily overcast sky threatened rain.

“I'm sure Evelyn will be delighted to go out driving with you,” her ladyship said.

That was doubtful after last night's multiple social disasters. Evie had barely been able to meet his gaze when he'd handed her into the carriage, and his heart had ached at the combination of shame and defiance warring for dominance on her face.

Lady Reese peered out the window again. “Perhaps Evelyn should take an umbrella, as it does look a little showery. Not enough to cancel your proposed drive, however,” she added hastily. “I'm sure my daughter won't mind a few raindrops.”

Will made a noncommittal sound of agreement, wondering why Lady Reese was so bloody friendly. It was such a marked departure from her usual treatment of him. Only her husband's close friendship with Will's uncle had enabled her to endure his regular visits to Maywood Manor. But while he didn't know what had changed, he intended to use it to help Evie.

He put down his teacup and cleared his throat. When Lady Reese lifted a haughty eyebrow, it brought back a flood of childhood memories. No one else could intimidate so effectively with just a lift of a brow. In some ways, he found her just as formidable as his father.

“My lady, I must apologize for the incident in the supper room last night. I was Lady Calista's escort, and while I am loath to criticize so fashionable a young lady, her behavior was insulting, especially to Evie.”

Lady Reese put her teacup and saucer down with a decided click. “I am aware of that fact, Wolf. However, Evelyn had no business acting in so outrageous a manner, regardless of the provocation. I was mortified, especially since Lady Calista's mother had been gracious enough to escort me back to our table.”

It took Will a moment to respond as he tried to cope with the fact that Lady Reese had just addressed him by his nickname. She'd never done that before. He inserted that interesting development into a mental slot marked
what the devil is going on
and focused on the subject at hand.

“I know it looked bad, but I'm sure Evie's reaction was instinctive more than anything else.” He flashed what he hoped was a charming smile. “My only real surprise is that Eden didn't get there first.”

The flesh across Lady Reese's cheekbones stretched tight with disapproval. Clearly, she would brook no criticism, good-natured or otherwise, of her favorite child.

“In any event,” he added, trying to recover lost ground, “I had no right to intrude on your party. I regret being the vehicle for so unfortunate a scene, and I sincerely apologize.”

Lady Reese tilted her head, studying him with cool regard. As a boy, that look had unnerved him. She no longer held that power over him, and he simply returned stare for stare.

Truth be told, he'd always found her interesting, if for no other reason than she was so unlike her daughters. The girls took after their father, a sturdily built man with wheat-colored hair and a kind manner, rather than Lady Reese who was slender and elegant, with a handsome face and chestnut hair barely touched by gray. She carried herself with a prickly sense of dignity that he'd eventually realized masked a sense of inferiority. Lord Reese might be a viscount and a well-liked one at that, but his fortune was merely respectable. His lordship aspired to nothing more than a pleasant life in the country, taking care of his tidy holdings.

Lady Reese, on the other hand, had always wanted more for her children than she'd received from her own marriage.

“I am aware,” she finally said, “that Calista is an ill-tempered girl allowed free rein by an indulgent mother. But Evelyn should have held her temper, knowing that most of the injury resulting from the gossip will fall on her. I only wish to protect her from that.”

“Do you? Sometimes I wonder.”

Lady Reese sucked in a startled breath, but Will decided he didn't give a damn about offending her. He'd spent too many years watching Evie suffer at the receiving end of her mother's ire and realized he'd had enough.

After a long moment of weighty silence, her ladyship finally pried her lips apart. “I do as I see fit with my children, and I will not apologize for that. But believe me when I tell you that I do not hold either you or Evelyn primarily responsible for last night's incident. I know
exactly
who is to blame for the unfortunate change in my daughter's behavior.”

Will was all ears to hear more, but the door to the drawing room opened and Evie rushed into the room. She looked both flustered and adorably shy.