The Rebel Heir (6 page)

“We can't have you opining on the specifics of trees. Gentlemen might think you too wrapped up in troublesome thoughts. It's best to keep to the words I wrote for you. Now begin again.”

“Lord Winfield, it's pleasant to see you today…” Evangeline paused and looked at her mother. “I could continue this practice alone. I wouldn't want to disrupt your morning.”

But when her mother inhaled a great breath, puffing up like a bird that was about to go on the attack, Evangeline knew she'd gone too far.

“After your disregard for the rules at last night's ball? Retrieving your father when you knew very well you were to dance the waltz with Lord Winfield later in the evening. The last waltz! He's a marquess! I need to sit. Ring for tea.” She waved Evangeline away. “Of all the foolish decisions you've made, this may well be the worst. You are more like your sister than I realized. Not to worry, though. We can be rid of those similarities with just the
smallest
bit of effort on your part.” Her mother heaved a weary sigh and sat on the edge of the nearest chair.

“I thought you'd signaled you were ready to leave,” Evangeline said, attempting to justify her actions before the situation became worse. “It was out of concern for you that I gathered Father.” She took her time in ringing for tea to hide the truth on her face.

“Leeeeave?” Her mother drew the word out in her outrage. “Why would I wish to leave?”

This discussion was careening in an unpleasant direction. Why had she thought she could slip upstairs after Lord Crosby without notice? That one reckless decision could cost her the season. This year was her chance to find a husband and start anew. She couldn't lose it for the likes of Crosby. “Perhaps you grew weary or had a headache.”

“Any such state is occurring now because of you. I thought your training had prepared you for this season. Clearly I was mistaken. There will be extra lessons every morning. We cannot have a repeat of your summer of madness.”

“Yes, Mother.” Evangeline's throat tightened around the words. She'd known this reminder was coming, but it always hurt nonetheless. She had spent all her days like this since that summer, the summer of her twelfth year, gaining favor with her mother to survive the afternoon only to lose that favor by the evening. The memory of that summer had even led Evangeline to betray her own sister last year.

She couldn't survive her mother's wrath again. She would simply have to be perfect. Reaching such an ideal meant staying well away from Lord Crosby and acting just as her mother instructed her to act. If being unblemished in every detail of life kept her safe, then that was what she would do.

“This family barely recovered from that ordeal,” her mother continued.

“I know, Mother.” Evangeline dipped her chin in apology. “I won't disappoint you again.”

“I should hope not!” Her mother's brows threatened to touch her hairline. “You almost destroyed us all. Imagine living without funding for society events.”

Evangeline remained silent. She'd learned long ago to not interrupt when her mother wished to relive that terrible summer. It had been an awful idea she'd had that day, one that she'd regretted ever since… Not that her remorse mattered. She'd only thought of being rid of Great-Aunt Mildred for the remainder of the summer. The woman had been awful to everyone around, but mostly Sue and her… Not that her justifications mattered either. The only thing that mattered was her great-aunt's withdrawal of her support for quite some time before her father had sorted things out. Evangeline had been a silly girl then and had acted without thought, something she couldn't afford to do today.

Her mother made it clear on every available occasion that Evangeline would never be forgiven for that infraction against the family, and if she set one toe out of line again, she would no longer be welcome in their home. Evangeline lived within that harsh reality, but this year she would find a husband. Perhaps she wouldn't be able to put a toe out of line with him either, but at least she could maintain a clean record with him. It would be a fresh beginning.

Last night had been a mistake. In truth, every encounter with Lord Crosby had been a mistake. She would steer clear of that man from now on. She must. Unlike last year, he could take his false name, thieving ways, and questionable intentions and leave town without a backward glance. She would be here not giving him a further thought.

Some other gentleman—like her mother's choice, Lord Winfield—was where her focus would remain. Other gentlemen weren't cloaked in mystery. Mystery was for the horrid novels Isabelle liked to read, not for Evangeline. She liked fact—straightforward, proper fact. And Lord Crosby was anything but straightforward. Which was why she wouldn't be thinking of him ever again—beginning now.

“The blue gown for tonight, I believe,” her mother mused as the parlor door opened.

The third new maid in the last week brought in the tea. She wouldn't last long, based on the cheerful look on her face. Clearly she hadn't been warned about the lady of the house. Life in this home wasn't for the faint of heart.

“Tea, my ladies.” She practically sang her words.

Evangeline tensed at the storm she sensed brewing even as she fought to contain a smile. It was a welcome breath of air to see a smile within these walls.

“What is your name?” her mother asked as she eyed the now-blushing young maid.

“Jane. Today is my first day, and I greatly look forward to working in such a prestigious home.”

“That much is true,” her mother stated.

Flattery. Perhaps this maid would survive the week.

“I included some biscuits and cakes with your tea. The kitchen is filled with their delicious scent. Your cook has truly outdone herself. I thought you might enjoy them.”

Or perhaps this maid wouldn't survive the hour. Cakes and biscuits? Her mother couldn't abide large amounts of food, let alone sweets.

Evangeline turned her most gracious smile on her mother, drawing her attention away from Jane's blunder and allowing the maid time to slip unnoticed from the room. “The blue gown sounds lovely. What jewelry do you suggest?”

The maid would learn. The key to life in their home was to keep the lady of the house in an even temper. As for Evangeline, she would wear the ensemble her mother wished. She would find a husband, and by the end of the season, she would be gone from this place like so many maids over the years.

* * *

Ash leaned against the wall just inside the front door of Lord Rightworth's London home, taking in the details of the house while he waited to be seen by the man. The house boasted a few luxurious items, like the tapestry that hung on the wall above the stairs, and the ornate chandelier, but nothing to the point of excess. It struck Ash as odd. He'd expected excess.

His own home had once been pushed past the point of excess. He could remember the statuary in the garden he used to hide behind when his brothers came looking for him, and the walls filled with art until only slivers of wall between golden frames remained.

All of that had been sold with the rest of his family's possessions because of this man. His father had ended his own life. And his mother had passed away soon after. That was when Ash had left home, and he hadn't been back to the hollow shell of his former life since then.

Pushing from the wall, he examined a vase filled with flowers that adorned the table beside him, but he was no expert on such things. If the vase had been made from stacks of coins, he could guess its value. As it was, all he knew was that unlike the pieces in his former home, the vases in Lord Rightworth's home hadn't been placed in crates and hauled out the door. He could get everything back. There was hope for his scheme yet.

“What are you doing here?” A light, feminine voice sounded behind him, sending a tingle of awareness down his spine.

He turned, knowing who had spoken before he saw her. “Lady Evangeline, what a surprise.”

She glanced over her shoulder before she spoke, looking to the empty hall behind her before turning back to face him. “It's not surprising at all if one takes into account that I live here.” She moved toward him. The light from the open door behind her spilled over her warm mahogany hair and washed down her arms, giving her the look of an ethereal goddess gliding down a lowly hall. “Why are you here?”

Before he could answer, the door at the base of the stairs opened and Lord Rightworth joined them. “Lord Crosby, good of you to come.”

Ash tensed just as he had last night at the door to the card room, but then schooled his expression. He needed this man to trust him, and for that to happen, Ash couldn't go around scowling, no matter what his thoughts about his present company.

“Father,” Evangeline said in a quiet voice. She looked away from Ash to greet the man.

“Crosby, have you met my daughter, Lady Evangeline?” Rightworth asked. “She's been enjoying the London season thus far. Haven't you, dear?”

“I have…for the most part.” Her eyes flicked back to Ash in challenge.

It was a dangerous game he played, but then, when had it ever been simple? This beauty could end his plans in town with one wrong word to her father, and yet he couldn't seem to help himself. He also couldn't rip his gaze from her upturned face. This encounter was ill-advised at best—but he'd never backed down from a challenge, and he wasn't going to begin now. Certainly not with her. Perhaps he could use their interactions to his advantage. If he kept her off-balance, she wouldn't focus as much on his intentions toward her father. A diversion—that's what this scheme needed.

“Lady Evangeline and I met at the Dillsworths' ball,” he explained, finally pulling his eyes from her long enough to glance at her father. “She was kind enough to take a quick turn on my arm on the dance floor.”

“That was a dance? My experience with
quick turns
must be more limited than yours, my lord.” Evangeline moved to wrap her arms across her chest before dropping them suddenly back to her sides with a grimace.

Ash grinned, thinking of the way he'd spun her into the ballroom after they shared that kiss. “A quick spin about the floor seems to define it quite well, actually. Do you disagree?”

A hint of color infused her cheeks, making her skin a delicious shade of pink, but that was the only sign of her discomfort.

“I believe your daughter finds fault in the dance we shared,” he said to Rightworth, although Ash's gaze remained on Evangeline. “Perhaps if I had another opportunity to prove my skill on the dance floor?”

“I have no complaint. I didn't intend… I'm sure you didn't come here to discuss the events of a recent ball,” she said with a nervous glance at her father.

“That's true.” There was nothing wise about Ash's current course of action. One misstep here in front of her father, and he would be riding out of town with Stapleton by sundown. And yet, he was toying with her. That was the trouble with diversions—sometimes they even distracted the person onstage. He hadn't come here to see Evangeline. He would be lying, however, if he said he hadn't hoped to catch a glimpse of her. That glimpse was unfortunately over—if only someone would deliver the news to his unruly eyes.

Lord Rightworth cleared his throat a moment later, making Ash realize he'd been staring at the man's daughter for the better part of a minute. “Evangeline, why don't you show Lord Crosby into the library while I see that this makes it into the post?” He held up a note of some sort as he moved down the hall past the stairs.

Evangeline watched her father leave before moving to the library door and waving Ash inside. “If you are here to steal documents from my father…”

“I'm not here to steal anything.” He held out his hands as he'd once seen a performer in a fair do to prove he held nothing in his sleeves.

“Then why are you here?” She was still eyeing his hands with concern.

He stepped farther into the library, scanning the room for any clues he could use in his dealings with Rightworth. Unfortunately, the room was of the standard sort. Leather-bound volumes the same as in every other lord's library in every other home in the country. Every home except for his family's, of course. He turned back to her. “Can't a gentleman call upon another gentleman without raising alarm?”

“Not when one of those gentlemen is you.”

“You wound me, my lady. I comment on your dancing abilities, and you insult me only a few minutes later?” He shook his head.

“You were commenting on your own escape”—she glanced toward the door before continuing in a hushed voice—“with a stolen document in hand, I should add. We have yet to dance.”

“A mistake I plan to remedy immediately.” Time to unbalance this lady and be rid of her curiosity, at least for a few minutes. His hand slipped around her waist, and he pulled her into his arms impulsively. He couldn't seem to help himself. At the moment, he was the one who was unbalanced.

A surprised “oh” escaped her lips as he lifted her hand to his and took the first step of a waltz.

He led her around the chairs that sat in front of the fireplace before circling her father's desk. Her eyes were bright as she looked up at him, a shy smile creeping across her face. The moment was almost innocent—almost. Aside from the fact that they were alone together, and that he was holding her closer than society allowed, he was rather impressed with his momentary lack of roguishness. Her thin frame fit easily in his arms as she moved with him across the floor. The warmth of her body soaked through the fabric of her simple day dress and heated his blood.

“Are you always this way?” she asked, shattering his thoughts. “Attending balls where you have no invite, waltzing to no music in the library?”

“Any other way would be quite dull, don't you agree?” He guided her to a halt before the fire. Slowly, he lowered her hand and slid the other from her lower back, grazing her waist with his fingertips as he moved. He didn't want to let her go. But he'd tested his limits, and any moment now her father would return.