Miss Dower's Paragon (30 page)

“Why didn’t you, then?” Evelyn asked, blushing under his look.

“I did not wish to frighten you off.”

“Peter!” She leaned as far as the limits of his arms would allow to stare up at him. “I am not such a chucklehead as that.”

He sighed. With deliberation, he said, “I feared that any excess of passion on my part would give you a permanent disgust of me.”

Evelyn shook her head. She put up her hand and with her fingers gently, delicately, traced his strong jawline. “You stupid, idiotic man.” A disturbing thought strayed into her mind.

His expression altered, and his arms tightened about her once more. “I tend to agree with that assessment,” he said and started to lower his head.

Evelyn’s hand shot up between their lips, forestalling him. “You have forgotten, sir. I am betrothed to Lord Hughes.” She said it with a smile, but she was perfectly serious. The recollection was a lowering one and effectively dispelled her giddy happiness.

However, Mr. Hawkins did not seem to share her downcast feelings. He shook his head. “On the contrary. It is your mother who will become Lady Hughes.”

“What?!”

He laughed at her expression. “Is your nose quite out of joint, my love? It seems that Lord Hughes and your mother had already come to an understanding when you made that ludicrous announcement. I do not believe any who were present have since touted it about, but to cover any public confusion, we shall put it about that in the throes of your excitement you garbled the news of your mother’s engagement so that it
sounded
as though it was you who had been the recipient of the honor.”

Evelyn drew a deep breath. Some things had suddenly become very much clearer. “I am so glad. Lord Hughes is not precisely what one prefers in a stepfather, of course, but I know that he will be good for my mother. He will not demand such of her except that she go on entertaining and shopping. As for Mama—”

Evelyn chuckled suddenly. “I suppose that she will lead his lordship a rather lively dance. He may even find that he does not have the energy to make up to any other ladies.”

“So would I assume,” Mr. Hawkins agreed. He regarded her with the quirk of his mouth that was so familiar and dear to her. “I shall ask you but one more time. Evelyn, will you consent to become my wife?”

“I suppose I must since you have ruined me,” said Evelyn on a mock sigh.

He was suddenly very grave. “I have not, actually. We are at this moment in my town house in Lansdown Crescent. The door is not even locked. If you so wished it, I would call out a carriage and request my grandmother’s maid to chaperon you home.”

Evelyn regarded him in astonishment. “But the carriage drove for ever so long. I was certain that I had been carried out of Bath.”

“You were only meant to think it. I had the coachman drive around for an hour before coming back here. I would never have purposely placed you into a compromising position,” he said.

Various emotions crossed Evelyn’s face, indignation and amusement among them. Finally she said, glancing down at her position in his lap, “On the contrary! I am in just such a compromising position.”

He opened his mouth, but she swiftly covered his lips with her fingers. “Do not dare apologize, my paragon,” she warned. “Or I shall refuse your suit yet again. Pray try to pretend, for a few moments at least, that you are the wickedest flouter of convention in England.”

“I am at your command, my dearest lady,” he said, and proceeded to prove it.

Copyright © 1993 by Gayle Buck

Originally published by Signet (ISBN 0451173562)

Electronically published in 2009 by Belgrave House/Regency Reads

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

No portion of this book may be reprinted in whole or in part, by printing, faxing, E-mail, copying electronically or by any other means without permission of the publisher. For more information, contact Belgrave House, 190 Belgrave Avenue, San Francisco, CA 94117-4228

     http://www.RegencyReads.com

     Electronic sales: [email protected]

This is a work of fiction. All names in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.