The Rebel Heir (17 page)

Evangeline shook her head, not understanding. “But he rescued her. She's safe.”

“She's quite cozy, I hear,” one of the ladies said, her eyebrows raised in accusation.

“She was in a fire,” Evangeline retorted.

“Who cares about the girl? Have you heard if Mr. Brice is expected to make an appearance tonight?” she heard someone ask.

Another woman remarked, “Lady Dansbury would be pleased, I'm sure. I suspect, however, that he's resting from such a feat of heroism.”

Evangeline took a step away to regain her composure. It wouldn't do to engage in fisticuffs with a pack of ladies at a ball. Forcing herself to unclench her fists, she took a breath and looked out across the sea of twirling dresses before her. Did no one care for the facts of the situation or for Victoria's well-being?

She turned to see Roselyn moving toward her, the gentleman she'd been dancing with following behind. Roselyn had intended to go shopping with Victoria this afternoon. She'd had a narrow scrape with death, and Victoria even closer. Bond Street had always seemed such a safe place, but a fire… Well, fires could happen anywhere. And what of Isabelle in all of this? To have everyone putting her sister's name together with the man she loved must be troublesome to say the least.

It was as if last season was repeating itself. That time, Evangeline had smiled at the man Sue loved. They'd walked in the garden together at her mother's insistence. But this season was different. This season she had Ash at her side. The chatter around her turned to heated voices, pulling Evangeline from her thoughts.

“I don't want your opinion,” Roselyn blurted out.

“Well, I never,” her mother replied, taken aback.

Evangeline stepped between them before the situation could worsen. “I'll take it from here if you please, Mother. Roselyn, did you hear about Victoria?”

Evangeline told her friend all she knew of the horrible fire that afternoon, but she needed to know more. It was too late tonight to call on her cousins. However, tomorrow morning at first light she would be at their door. Her mother could deny their closeness as a family all she liked, but Evangeline knew the truth. She wasn't going to abandon them, just as she wouldn't leave Roselyn to stand alone during an entire ball. These ladies were more family to her than her family had ever been.

Perhaps this season she could be counted upon to make the correct choices. Some of her decisions may still be questionable or she wouldn't have agreed to ice with Ash Claughbane tomorrow afternoon, but she could be a friend to her cousins. She would make wise decisions about other things in her life at some later date—after she'd spent a bit more time with Ash.

* * *

Ash lounged back against a tree near the entrance to the Berkeley Square gardens, crossing his arms over his chest. It was a nice enough afternoon. If Evie was here she would comment on the sun, the green grass, and the fullness of the tree he was standing beneath. But Evie was not here—she was twenty minutes late. She could be with the clearly more desirable Lord Winfield. The memory of her on Winfield's arm last night still stung.

“Get hold of yourself, man,” he muttered. He'd never been one to fall prey to fits of jealousy. Evie should be with a respectable,
true
lord like Winfield. He should wish that for her since he was only…

What was he doing, anyway?

He'd never before arranged to meet a lady for ices in the afternoon. Until he arrived in London, his life had been a series of meetings in parlors for the sake of the sale. When he did venture away from those parlors, it had always been to some shadowed place to sway some lady to his way of seeing things and better his odds in his schemes. He'd barely noticed the weather outside before he came here. Birds chirping, the spring of wet grass beneath his feet—this was all Evie's fault.

He grinned, seeing her carriage arrive outside Gunter's, and pushed off the tree to greet her. The sweet shop was located across from the park, where people regularly gathered on benches and at small tables to enjoy a treat on warm afternoons.

Lady Rightworth was the first to set foot on the ground, looking just as unhappy as she had the evening of the poetry reading. But a moment later when he caught sight of Evie, he forgot all about Lady Rightworth.

Evie descended from the carriage and looked around for a second before she spotted him in the park and began to move in his direction. She was wearing blue today, but he would still describe her as delicious. Perhaps not today, not in front of her mother, but delicious nonetheless. Evie's dress billowed out behind her like sails on a ship as she glided across the open area of the park. Meanwhile, her mother picked her way across the grass in an attempt to touch as little of nature as possible. He fought down the chuckle that tried to escape his throat, hiding it beneath a cough.

“My lord,” Evie said in a small voice as she curtsied before him.

One day he would discover the full extent of why she only spoke normally when they were alone. Even though he knew her trepidation had something to do with her mother, he wanted to understand it all. A desire to know more about anyone was a frightening thought. No—he was investigating. He'd done research for his work in the past, and this was no different. Or was it?

“Lady Evangeline,” he offered with a nod, quite possibly sounding as fearful as she did but for an entirely different reason.

“This outing cannot take all afternoon, because Evangeline has preparations to make for tonight's ball,” Lady Rightworth proclaimed as she reached them. “Lord Winfield is very much looking forward to seeing her there.”

“Mother, Lord Crosby has invited us here,” Evangeline admonished, her eyes cast down at the ground.

“After you spent most of the morning looking in on those cousins of yours?” Her mother heaved an exaggerated sigh, ensuring everyone present was aware of her exhaustion. “Very well. I suppose we've taken the time to travel the distance.”

Ash couldn't tell if she was referring to the ten minutes in her carriage or the trek across the rough terrain of trimmed lawn, but clearly she wasn't pleased about either. He wasn't particularly happy about her presence here, in all honesty, because it placed strain in Evie's eyes and forced her into that blasted whispery voice when she spoke. But he wasn't complaining.

“At least they have staff here.” Lady Rightworth raised a hand and signaled the man crossing the grass toward them to quicken his pace. “Partaking in sweets while outdoors is barbaric enough without assistance.”

Evie shot him an apologetic look while her mother was distracted, but Ash found himself more amused by her ladyship than offended.

“How may I serve you?” the man asked, reaching them just as they were sitting down at one of the tables set up in the grass.

“I'll have a chocolate,” Ash said with a twinkle in his eye. It had been years since he'd taken the time to enjoy a dish of ice. There was always a new town to visit, a new item to sell, but there was never time for things like ice in the park. Despite his travels and fast-paced life, he should take more time for the occasional simple pleasure.

“My daughter and I will have the rose-shaped vanilla,” Lady Rightworth announced without so much as a glance in Evie's direction.

“Is that what you want, my lady?” Ash asked, noticing the slight sag to Evie's shoulders. It was faint, almost hidden, but it was there—disappointment.

“Of course vanilla is what she wants.” Her mother turned accusatory eyes in his direction, as if he'd suggested Evangeline dine on a vat of whiskey. “Isn't it, darling?”

“I-I'm sure it will be fine.”

“Oh look, there's Lady Smeltings,” her mother simpered as she touched her hair to ensure it was in place. “Do excuse me. I must speak with her. Lady Smeltings!” She rose from her seat and called across the expanse of green grass. “Lady Smeltings!”

Ash really should try to win the woman over to his side. That's what he would do under normal circumstances, but he couldn't bring himself to appease her. Not only was she loud and, on the whole, offensive to all the senses, but she inspired unease in Evie—and that was a fact he couldn't overlook. He held up a hand in silent request for a moment to discuss their order before asking Evie, “Have you ever tried the bergamot?”

“No, but it does sound…” Evangeline glanced around in search of her mother's whereabouts, watching her as she moved steadily away from them. “The vanilla will be fine. It's been pleasant in the past.”

“My lady, you do know the flavor of ice you prefer, don't you?”

She pressed her lips together and glanced down at the table, the light pink of a blush creeping onto her cheeks. Everyone had a favorite flavor of ice, did they not? Yet Evie said nothing.

At her silence, Ash told the man, “We'll have one of every type you offer.”

“Ash…I mean…my lord, that is too much. My mother won't allow it.”

“She isn't here.”

Evie glanced around to see her mother now sitting with two other ladies some distance away. “She won't approve, and I'm not to have more than three bites of any sweet.”

“Evangeline, you are going to try every flavor of ice Gunter's has to offer until you are able to select your favorite.”

“I don't have the pin money to…”

“I can more than afford a few ices. It would be my pleasure to assist you in what is clearly an arduous decision.” He nodded to the man by the table, who set off across the grass toward Gunter's establishment.

“I must apologize for my mother,” Evie said after the man was out of earshot, her voice finally the smooth, relaxed one she used when they were alone. “There is more than enough time this afternoon to have an ice or, in this case, quite a few.”

“Truly, it's all part of my masterful plan to make you too ill to attend that ball tonight.”

“Is it? And I have fallen into your trap just like that,” she said with a small shake of her head. “Mother will be disappointed when I stay home and force Lord Winfield to find another dance partner.”

“Would
you
be disappointed if you were unable to attend?” Ash asked, unable to resist. He shouldn't care if she was interested in Lord Winfield. But he also shouldn't be here with her, and shouldn't be looking forward to an entire table filled with sweets.

“I do find I grow weary of dressing for town,” she admitted.

“I fully support your lack of dress. I would prefer it, however, if you attempted it at an event where I could enjoy the view.”

Her eyes grew round as she looked at him. “That is not what I meant by that comment.”

“I stand by my thoughts on your lack of a dress nonetheless,” he teased, wishing he could unwrap her from the confines of her pristine gowns for just one night and experience everything she held back from the world.

“Do you speak with all the ladies this way?”

“No. Only you. Others would slap me.”

“As did I.”

He laughed at the memory as two large trays of ices were placed between them. Every type of ice offered lay scattered across the table, and they were each given a spoon. “I deserved that slap you gave me,” he said when the man had left them once more. “Now, tell me of your dislike of getting dressed.”

She blinked at the bounty of ice in front of her, then took the smallest bite he'd ever witnessed of the chocolate that sat at her elbow. She made a small sigh, then began. “It's an awful process, you know. Hours of having my hair pulled this way and that, being bound tighter than you can imagine into a gown, and then adorned with ten different options of jewels. I suppose I don't have the interest in fashion most ladies do.” She delved her spoon into another bowl, this time taking a mouthful. He watched as her lips curved around the sweet bite of honey-covered elderflower.

“Hmmm. All of this”—he waved his spoon at her before sinking it into one of the flavors—“only serves to hide who you truly are. Are you not in town to find a husband?”

“I am.” She scanned the table before settling on a bowl toward the end of it.

“It would seem that revealing your true identity would be wise before marriage.” Why was he advising her in the way of
marriage
? He shook his head and scooped up some of the chocolate ice that sat in front of Evie.

“The thought that it's a bit misleading has crossed my mind.”

“Yet you still come to the park with pearls and hair that's curled to perfection.”

“You don't approve,” she said, lowering the spoon.

“I didn't say that.” He couldn't keep his clear interest in her from his voice as he spoke. She was beautiful. There was no arguing that fact. “I'm merely noting how you're leading the poor gentlemen of the
ton
astray in their search for wives this season.”

“Ash Claughbane, are you claiming
I
am the one being false?”

“In a sense.” He smiled at her look of dismay. “But then it only serves to make me the fortunate one.”

“How so?”

“I know you would prefer a simple day dress to a gown. I alone can imagine you with your hair down, flowing around your face. At the next ball, I will smile, knowing you don't enjoy being the prim miss across the room with jewels draped around her neck. In my mind, you will be free and smiling back at me.”

Their gazes locked for a moment. He'd revealed too much. He blamed the excess of sugar before him. What had begun as simple and innocent pleasure was spinning at a rapid pace toward wild and guilty desire. He shouldn't be here with any lady, but certainly not with Evangeline Green, daughter of Lord Rightworth. Yet he could more easily eat a vat of ice than walk away from her now.

She worked to swallow, drawing his gaze to her throat for a second. “I may be prim and draped in jewels, but I will still be the lady smiling back at you.”