The Irish Upstart (30 page)

His eyebrow lifted sardonically.
“
I suppose everyone who counts will be there?
”

“
How did you guess?
”

“
Since when did I ever care about who counts and who doesn’t?
”
Feeling restless and irritable—all his own doing, of course—Thomas arose from his chair and headed for the door.
“
I’m off to bed.
”

Penelope called after him,
“
It’s Evleen O’Fallon, isn’t it?
”

Curse her perceptiveness. He turned as Penelope remarked,
“
I heard what you did today. How noble, rescuing the damsel in distress and her adorable little brother.
”

“
I would have done as much for a stranger.
”
Why was he burdened with a sister so skilled at reading his mind?

Worse, she wasn’t through.

“
On-dit has it that the two of them were wandering the streets unescorted.
”
Penelope pursed her lips and tilted her nose in a fair imitation of Lydia Trevlyn.
“
Simply not done, my deah,
”
she mocked, and went on,
“
and letting herself be seen on Saint James Street where everyone knows a lady would not be caught dead.
”

Thomas could not help laughing at his irreverent sister, but quickly sobered.
“
It’s such hypocrisy, isn’t it? The truth is, Lydia Trevlyn is not so much concerned about her family’s reputation as she is about marrying her daughters off.
”

“
Exactly,
”
said Penelope,
“
and she sees the Irish girl as a threat.
”

“
And well she might, considering Evleen O’Fallon has more beauty, brains and charm in her little finger than the Trevlyn girls possess—
”

Uh-oh, now he’d done it. Judging from that sagacious little grin playing on Penelope’s lips, Thomas suddenly realized he had just revealed far more than he had intended.

“
I knew it,
”
Penelope declared triumphantly.
“
After all these years, the high-and-mighty Thomas Linberry has finally fallen in love. Don’t bother to deny it. It won’t do you any good.
”

That uninvited vision of Evleen and Timothy embracing again arose before his eyes. He said harshly,
“
I had thought Evleen O’Fallon was betrothed to that Irishman.
”

“
She’s not.
”

“
So I found out. Up to now, my feelings were of no consequence. Now I... This puts a new light on things.
”

“
Oh, Thomas.
”
Penelope
slowly shook
her head in sympathy.
“
You were using Evleen’s so-called betrothal as a defense, weren’t you? It didn’t matter how fond you grew of her, she was betrothed, and that made you feel safe, didn’t it? No action on your part was necessary.
”

“
That’s absurd.
”

“
Is it? Then why are you so agitated? I think you’ve fallen in love with her, and now, all of a sudden, you find she’s available and suddenly you don’t know what to do.
”

Thomas neither affirmed nor denied his sister’s shrewd observations. Instead, close-mouthed, he bid his sister a hasty goodnight and retreated to his bedchamber. Now, safe from Penelope’s penetrating questions, he reflected upon her words.
“
Fallen in love,
”
she’d accused. No, that wasn’t possible. Never, in his entire untroubled, well-ordered existence, had he been so foolish as to lose his heart to a woman.
Some of his friends had been struck by Cupid’s arrow, and what a result! Their ensuing conduct had caused him to marvel at how an intelligent, reasoning, and heretofore tough-minded man could turn into a quivering mass of erratic emotions, writing abominable love poems, mooning about like some love-sick school boy, claiming his life would be ruined unless the object of his new-found love consented to marry him. And all because he’d been brought down by some bubble-headed chit.

Not Thomas Linberry! Indeed, no
.

He’d had his share of Cyprians, and though he had to admit he’d been fond of them, and treated them with courtesy—more than he could say for some of his friends—he had never lost his heart, even to the most seductive and beautiful of them. Nor had he lost his heart to Miss Bettina Trevlyn, which was exactly as it should be. Although he fully expected to develop some sort of affection for her when and if they married, love hardly mattered. Love was a handicap. Love interfered with one’s well-ordered life. Love made a man look foolish, and that’s why he, a man totally in control of his emotions, could not possibly be in love with Evleen O’Fallon.

True, he’d been unable to stop thinking about her, or shake off the strange sensations that rushed through his body when he did. Especially now, after that kiss. There went his sleep tonight, again. Positively and without fail, tomorrow he would get a grip on himself and put her out of his mind, but not tonight. Tonight he would lie in his bed and picture how she had nestled into his arms, a perfect fit, as if she belonged there, all soft and warm, and how she...

Perhaps he would stay in London, at least for a while. But no, that was wrong. Penelope was right about his defenses being down. The sooner he left for Tanglewood Hall, the better.

* * *
 
                                       

“
Evleen, what is the lady doing?
”
asked Patrick. He had come to her bedchamber, and now sat upon her bed, feet dangling, watching curiously as she stood on a chair, still as a statue.

Evleen glanced at the middle-aged woman kneeling on the floor.
“
This is my new dressmaker, and she’s measuring a hem. Do you like it?
”
She spread her arms, showing off her new ball gown.
“
Your grandfather insisted I have some gowns made so I shall be fashionable.
”

“
Mama says to be fashionable is to be vain.
”

“
She’s absolutely right, but I like being fashionable all the same.
”

“
Shall you wear it to the ball tonight?
”

“
No, it won’t be ready in time, but I shall wear this to a ball next Friday night.
”

“
Shall you dance with lots of men?
”
asked Patrick with a frown.

“
Of course I shall.
”

“
But what of Timothy?
”

She could tell this wasn’t an idle question. Patrick had always liked Timothy and expected her to marry him. She’d have to set him straight.
“
First, I am not betrothed to Timothy,
”
she said gently.
“
Second, your grandfather wants me to grow accustomed to the glittering society you’re going to be living in the rest of your life. Dancing with other men is quite acceptable.
”

“
I’ve finished with the pinning, miss
.
”

Carefully holding up her skirt, Evleen stepped down and went to her mirror.
“
Oh,
”
she said with a gasp, unable to contain her delight. Her nearly completed gown was of white silk, high-waisted, low-cut, and adorned with clusters of pink roses around the hem, accompanied by wide bands of white lace trim. Best of all, this gown was practically all her own creation. She
chose
the pattern and fabric herself, and if she did say so, it had turned out perfectly.
Wait until Thomas sees me,
she thought, then caught herself. These past few days, she’d had great difficulty keeping her mind off Thomas and their hot, breathless, totally unexpected kiss in the darkness of the coach. So utterly wrong.
“
Highly improper,
”
Lydia would say, but for the life of her, she couldn’t work up any guilt. Instead, she felt deliciously wicked. If Lydia could have seen into the back of that carriage, she would be so scandalized!

But there was something else, too, that kept her thoughts on Thomas, something beyond a frivolous kiss. She’d felt it when, trembling, he’d taken her in his arms, and when his lips found hers, she could have sworn there was more than lust on his mind, there was something deeper, as if he meant his kiss to tell her something. Oh, it was so hard to know what he was truly thinking.

But this was wrong, thinking so much about him. If Mama wanted her to marry a rich, titled Englishman, she would try, and in the process forget about Thomas.

Lydia entered as the dressmaker was leaving.
“
Well, Evleen, I see your dress is nearly complete. Let me look at you.
”

Evleen dutifully turned and stood quietly as the older woman examined her with a critical eye.
“
Hmm, that should do for the ball next week.
”
Her remark carried all the warmth of a frost-covered tombstone.

“
If only it were ready for tonight,
”
Evleen said wistfully.

“
Charlotte’s gown is perfectly suitable for tonight,
”
Lydia replied, her voice devoid of sympathy.
“
I trust you’re aware Lady Claremont’s ball is one of the most important events of the Season. Everybody who is anybody will be there, and I advise you act accordingly.
”

Evleen stiffened, sensing immediately the implied insult.

“
Just what do you mean by ‘accordingly,’ Mrs. Trevlyn? That I not spit on the floor? That I not rip my clothes off and dance in my chemise? That I—?
”
Oh-oh. She had gone to far. She could tell because Lydia’s mouth had dropped open and her face was turning purple.

“
You know what I mean,
”
snapped Lydia. That she was annoyed was an understatement.
“
You would be wise to stay away from Montague. And might I suggest you say as little as possible? That way, no one will know you come from Ireland.
”

I’ve done it now
, thought Evleen, regretting her impudent answer. She must keep reminding herself of her vow to maintain good relations with the Trevlyns, no matter what. She didn’t want to apologize but knew she must.
“
I am truly sorry for my frivolous answer, Mrs. Trevlyn. Have no fear, I shall be as circumspect as a nun.
”

“
That’s good to hear, Evleen.
”

Hearing a trace of softening in Lydia’s voice, Evleen decided to go a step farther.
“
I want you to know how sorry I am about... well, everything. It must have been very difficult—I mean, expecting your husband would be the heir to Lord Trevlyn’s estate, and then here came Patrick, without so much as a warning.
”

After an awkward moment of silence, Lydia’s face twisted with emotion.
“
You have no idea how difficult. We’ve lost our fortune. If we’re not careful, the girls won’t marry nearly as well. And I... I
...”
She gulped, rigidly holding tears in check.
“
All these years I expected that some day I would have a title. My dear friend, Mrs. Drummond-Burrel, expects a title. Some day she’ll become Lady Willoughby de Eresby, but will I ever become Lady Trevlyn? No! Because of Patrick, I am doomed to being nothing more than plain Mrs. Trevlyn—
”
her voice began to rise
“
—for the rest of my life.
”

How amazing. Evleen found it hard to believe Lydia’s main concern in life appeared to be the loss of a title she never had. How shallow to put such value on a mere word in front of one’s name. And yet, it was clear her anguish was genuine. Evleen had never expected she’d feel sympathy for this bitter, mirthless woman, but now she did.
“
I am so sorry,
”
she began, but Lydia raised a hand to silence her.

“
Don’t. There’s nothing you can do about it, is there?
”
In complete control of herself once again, Lydia squared her shoulders.
“
Was there anything else, Evleen?
”

After allowing that one brief crack in her armor, Lydia was obviously back to her old self again. To say anything more on the subject would be useless. Instead, Evleen decided to voice a small fear that had been nagging her.
“
In Ireland, we did the country dances. Is it the same here?
”