Savage Nights (The Savage Trilogy #2) (27 page)

He gathered me into his arms, holding me so tightly that I scarcely noticed when he lifted me from my feet and carried me to the nearby bed. We sank down on the coverlet, our bodies already tangled together.

“What would I have done if I’d lost you?” he whispered hoarsely against my hair, desperation and relief oddly, endearingly, mingled. “What would I have done?”

“But you didn’t,” I said. I didn’t care whether he meant that I hadn’t been stolen away or that I hadn’t left on my own, and I didn’t care, either, that I was crying again. I was here, and so was he. “You didn’t lose me at all.”

*   *   *

The next morning, Savage suggested we take his open carriage and ride through Hyde Park. I was happy that he included Lawton in the invitation. I hadn’t seen the boy since we’d parted in the afternoon; he’d been put into Barry’s ever-capable care, an arrangement that apparently all parties found agreeable. I couldn’t quite imagine the taciturn Barry reining in the high-spirited Lawton, but Savage assured me that Barry had “had a way” with Lawton ever since he’d been a baby and the two got on famously.

The two of them were in the front hall precisely at eleven when Savage and I came downstairs, and the carriage—an elegant barouche—was already at the curb. Savage was devastatingly handsome in a pale-gray morning coat with a tall silk top hat and pale-yellow gloves, all a welcome departure from his customary black that I was sure would draw the attention of every lady in the park.

But I would not be outdone. I wore one of my favorite carriage dresses, a closely tailored emerald-green ensemble with a boldly striped black-and-white skirt and an oversized black hat with a swooping brim and a white plume, trimmed with emerald ribbons. My parasol was black lace with green silk tassels that gave it a jaunty air. Around my throat, once again, was the pearl necklace that Savage had given me.

It was the kind of dress to be noticed, and this morning I hoped the entire fashionable world would take note of me. This was no ordinary outing, and Savage and I both knew its significance. It had been one thing to appear together late in the evening at Gaspari’s, when by tacit agreement most diners would turn a blind eye to who was dining with whom. Even riding together on horseback would not have elicited much gossip, because truly, how much mischief could be accomplished with both parties on separate horses?

But to appear in a gentleman’s carriage—even a barouche—was a bold statement indeed. I would be as much as admitting that the whispers about me taking the Earl of Savage as my lover were true. Having Lawton with us as our eight-year-old chaperone might mitigate my sins somewhat, but not enough to save my good name. I knew all this, and I’d considered it well.

And I did not care. Savage and I were both adults, both independent, both widowed and now freed from unhappy marriages. We were hurting no one else by our actions and pleasing each other very much. I had spent the first twenty-five years of my life being respectable, good, and dull, and I was ready—more than ready—to be publicly scandalous, bad, and happy.

Savage had neatly summed it all when I’d finished dressing. First he’d let his gaze roam over me from head to toe, lingering upon the more interesting parts in the middle that had been spectacularly corseted. Then he’d smiled and bowed to me, his hat in his hand.

“I congratulate you, Mrs. Hart,” he said, his smile sly. “You will make every lady in the park green with envy, and every gentleman sick with lust.”

I’d one more goal, too. I wanted Blackledge to know that he couldn’t intimidate me. I wanted him to see that I intended to go about my life as I pleased and that Savage and I together were prepared to stand up to him and his threats. I would not become part of his ridiculous
Arabian Nights
fantasy, where he could swoop in and carry me off simply because he wished it. I had every right to refuse him, and I would continue to do so until he finally understood and left me alone.

But when I stood on the step and looked at the barouche, I faltered. The carriage was entirely open, the brasses polished and the soft buff-colored leather seats sleek in the sun behind the matched pair of bays. There was a driver on the bench, of course, but no footmen, nor was there a place for any. We would be as exposed as if we were sitting on a bench in the park, and after the attack yesterday all I could think was how vulnerable I’d be.

“What is it, Evelyn?” Savage asked beside me. “Is the sun too bright?”

I shook my head, the brim of my hat bobbing before me. “It’s not the sun,” I said. “It’s just that … that the carriage seems very open.”

“It is,” he agreed. “That is why I’ve made sure we won’t be alone.”

He nodded towards the rear of the barouche. Belatedly I noticed two men on horseback, waiting about a length behind. They were dressed like any other gentlemen who went riding in the park, but there was a watchfulness to them that I remembered from the old days with my father’s Pinkerton men, and I was certain that there were pistols beneath those riding jackets.

“You see, I kept my promise to you,” Savage said, his voice low so that Lawton wouldn’t overhear. “I told you I wouldn’t try to protect you entirely by myself, and I won’t.”

Relief swept over me, and gratitude, too. He had listened to me after all. If Blackledge attempted something foolish, Savage wouldn’t feel he had to jump in and risk his own life defending mine.

No, most likely he would,
I corrected mentally. He wouldn’t change that much. But at least if he did, he wouldn’t be alone.

“Thank you,” I said softly. “Both for those men and for understanding their necessity.”

“You are welcome,” he said gruffly, unexpectedly uncomfortable with being thanked. He might even have flushed.

He led me down the steps and handed me into the carriage. There was a brief moment of confusion when Lawton expected to sit beside me, but his father quickly directed him to the facing seat behind the driver while he and I sat side by side. I settled my skirts gracefully around my legs, tipped my parasol back over my shoulder, and at last we were off.

“Barry told me there were Punch-and-Judy shows in the park,” Lawton said eagerly. “May we please stop if there are, Father?”

“Stop bouncing about on your seat like a monkey, Lawton,” Savage said irritably. “Sit still.”

I glanced at Savage, not exactly warning so much as reminding, and he sighed dramatically.

“If Mrs. Hart wishes it, then we shall stop,” he said with put-upon resignation. “You must learn always to bow to a lady’s wishes, Lawton.”

“Not always, my lord,” I said, smiling. “Sometimes the lady prefers to submit to the gentleman’s desires.”

He raised his eyebrows and smiled in return. I’d clearly captured his interest.

“May we please stop for puppets, Mrs. Hart?” Lawton begged. “That is, if you like Punch and Judy, too.”

“To be honest, Lawton, I’ve never seen a Mr. Punch show,” I admitted. “You must be sure to point out the finer qualities of the production to me.”

“You don’t mind?” he asked, clearly surprised that any adult would ask for his opinion. “It’s not always easy to figure out what’s happening.”

“I should be most grateful if you would,” I said, smiling warmly to reassure him.

That was enough for the boy to launch into a detailed description of seemingly every puppet show he’d ever seen in his entire short life, so detailed that the only necessary replies were a few appreciative exclamations now and then.

I didn’t mind at all. I liked listening to him, the boyish mix of being painfully earnest one moment and supremely silly the next. Wistfully I realized that if I’d a son of my own I’d want him to be exactly like Lawton. It wasn’t just that I liked the boy. I liked his father, too, very much.

Beside me Savage had placed his hand over mine on the seat and kept it there. It seemed like a small gesture, doubly muted since we both wore gloves, but somehow the very subtlety of it both touched and excited me. It was quietly, confidently possessive, proving that I belonged to him and that he was willing to let all London see it.

And all London did see it. Because the day was warm and sunny the park was crowded with carriages and riders as well as others strolling along the paths beneath the trees. Every well-bred head turned to look at us as we passed; we were that easy to recognize and that impossible to ignore. Like it or not, we were figures mentioned in the papers and scandal sheets, the Earl of Savage and Mrs. Hart, the American millionaire’s widow.

Most we passed nodded graciously or raised their hats, as polite people did, although I could sense the eager curiosity behind their good manners. But there were a few others who pointedly looked away as if we did not exist, making their disapproval hard to ignore. When we stopped near the Serpentine because Lawton was clamoring for a flavored ice from one of the vendors, a photographer seemed to appear from nowhere and quickly took a picture of Savage and me walking arm in arm before he darted away.

“Ten guineas says that fellow will sell his work to the New York papers,” Savage said drily as Lawton bought his ice. “They’ll pay more for it there than in London.”

“Earls are a rarity in New York,” I said, striving to make light of it. “You’re a curiosity.”

“Oh, I doubt that,” he said. “I believe they’re more interested in the beauteous Mrs. Hart than the sort of raffish company she’s keeping abroad.”

“No one would think you’re raffish today,” I said. “You’re looking thoroughly noble and handsome.”

“And you, Mrs. Hart, are looking good enough to eat,” he said. There was a small gap of pale, bare skin on my forearm, between the hem of my sleeve and the top of my glove, and he found it now with his forefinger, lightly burrowing into the fabric to touch me. For such a tiny caress, it was intensely arousing, perhaps because it was so small and so furtive. “I know that dress is intended to provoke other women to fits of rage, but all I can think of is how quickly I could remove it from your delectable person.”

“My Lord Savage! Mrs. Hart! Good day to you both!”

Reluctantly I turned from Savage and watched as Laura, Viscountess Carleigh, waving enthusiastically as she climbed down from her carriage and hurried across the path towards us. I smiled with little enthusiasm of my own.

Laura was my friend, yes, and Savage’s as well, but at that particular moment I would rather she had stayed in her carriage and merely waved and continued on her way. I say that not because of any dislike of her—far from it—but because I knew she’d ask questions about Savage and me. I suppose it was only fair, since she’d been the one to introduce us, but things between us were at present so special and yet so undecided that to discuss them with anyone else would feel like a kind of betrayal.

“Good day to you both!” Laura said again as she joined us, out of breath but beaming. I might be boldly dressed in green silk, stripes, and black lace, but she was all white lace, lawn, and fluttering ruffles, which did do justice to her fair skin and auburn hair. “I trust you are enjoying this beautiful, beautiful day?”

“I am, because it has been made more beautiful with you two ladies in it,” he said gallantly.

“Oh, my lord, you are too kind,” Laura said, simpering a bit as she twirled the handle of her parasol. “But I’ve a favor to ask of you. Would you permit me to borrow this lady from your company for a short while so we may discuss certain feminine topics of conversation?”

The only way to escape her would be to give in for a few minutes, listen to her gossip, then ease myself away.

“I won’t be long, my lord,” I said. “Only long enough to hear whatever Laura is perishing to tell me.”

“If you must,” he said grudgingly. “Go. Lawton and I will be waiting for you when you return.”

“Is Lord Lawton at home already?” she asked cheerfully, looking about for the boy. “Our boys aren’t due home from school until their term ends at the end of the month.”

“He finished a bit early,” Savage said, purposefully vague, and silently I praised him for saying nothing of the real reason for his son’s return home. This was, in a way, genuine progress, but to be sure it remained that way I quickly took Laura by the arm and led her away for our “feminine conversation.”

It didn’t take long for her to begin, either.

“Whatever are you doing, Evelyn?” she asked, seizing my arm. “Everyone in London is speaking of you.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” I said, smoothing my glove over the back of my hand to avoid meeting her eye.

“You’re not making sense.”

“Oh, you know I
am
,” she said. “You and Savage. I’ve written you letters that you haven’t answered, and called upon you at the Savoy even though I know you’re not there. Your poor lady’s maid is forced to tell me tales to protect you, but the truth’s not been hard to decipher, has it? I do not know how these things are done in New York, my dear, but in London a lady does not take up residence in her lover’s house.”

“I’m not in ‘residence,’” I said defensively. “I’m a guest. Savage and I have chosen to continue to play the Game another week; that is all.”

“The Game is reserved for the country, Evelyn, where there is privacy!” Laura said indignantly. “That is why we go to Wrenton, to be away from the prying eyes and gossips, and why everyone is sworn to secrecy.”

I looked at her sideways, openly skeptical. “Do you mean to tell me that love affairs and liaisons are conducted only in the country? That in London everyone is chaste as nuns?”

“Of course not,” she said. “But clever people act with a modicum of discretion. Why, look at you and Savage here today, free with one another’s company in plain sight of everyone—even before his
son
!”

I stopped, forcing her to stop as well. “And where exactly is the harm in us being here together, Laura? Neither Savage nor I is married. We’re respectably dressed. We’re not rolling about on the lawn together. I believe we’re going to watch a Punch-and-Judy show because Lord Lawton wishes it, but I don’t believe anyone should be offended by that.”

“You keep saying ‘we,’ but it’s you who shall suffer,” Laura said with unabashed vehemence. “Surely you must see that. When this little
affaire
with Savage has run its course—as it always does with him—then he will abandon you, and shift to another willing lady who catches his eye. He drove his poor wife to madness because of it. It’s the variety he craves, Evelyn, the diversion of novelty. He will never be satisfied with one.”