Twice the Temptation (13 page)
Read Twice the Temptation Online
Authors: Suzanne Enoch
Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Suspense, #Historical, #General, #Contemporary
“I think I will wear it, then.” With a rare grin, the viscountess took the box and opened it, removing the velvet bag. “Because the curse nonsense is just that, you know. Nonsense. I hope that’s not the reason you don’t wish to wear it.”
“Of course not.”
“And if it is bad luck,” her mother continued, “perhaps Lord Rawley’s coach will lose a wheel, and we’ll have to attend the ball without his escort.”
A shiver ran beneath Evangeline’s skin. The man had actually laughed at her the evening before last. She certainly hadn’t expected him to send over a note reminding her that he would be by at eight o’clock to escort her and her parents to the Howlett ball. The viscountess had suggested that she decline the invitation, but the more Evangeline considered it, the more she welcomed the opportunity to inform Connoll just how little she cared about his opinion.
Of course she didn’t want to marry a servant; a butler couldn’t make her a viscountess or a countess. If it made her mercenary to wish for a husband’s title but not his dictates or stupid opinions, then so be it. Probably the most efficient way to prove just that point would be for her to accept the next proposal either Redmond or Dapney handed her. But that would mean no more of those wondrous Connoll Addison kisses.
She scowled. After the other night, neither of them was likely to be kissing the other again, anyway. Doretta fastened the pearls around her neck, and she stood. “I don’t doubt that he’ll arrive late, regardless of luck,” she said to no one in particular.
“I don’t know why you accepted his offer of escort, anyway,” the viscountess responded, motioning for Doretta to assist her with the diamond. “Lord Redmond has a fine carriage.”
Admitting that she still wasn’t quite certain how it had happened would only earn her a lecture. “I couldn’t have declined his invitation without appearing rude,” she improvised.
“Perhaps he and your father will begin a conversation about horses or cigars or something, and they’ll leave us be. You know Lord Redmond will be attending, and so will Lord Dapney.”
“Lord Dapney had mentioned it,” Evangeline returned.
“Have you decided which of them you prefer? They both have their merits, I have to say.” The viscountess walked to the bedchamber door, pausing with her fingers on the handle. “Dapney will provide you with a longtime escort, and you’ll be able to guide the course of any investments, and social or political alliances. Redmond will most likely tire easily and will leave you to go to whichever soirees you choose and with whomever you choose, and of course you will have a very comfortable life as a wealthy widow.”
Now,that seemed a bit mercenary, making the older man’s death a part of her plan for a comfortable life. “I’m not in a hurry to decide,” she said slowly. “I don’t want to make the wrong choice, after all.”
“Very wise of you, my dear. I’ll see you downstairs.”
“Miss Munroe?” Doretta asked as the viscountess left the room. “If I’m not overstepping, do you think your diamond is cursed?”
“No. Of course not. People only spread those rumors so thieves won’t try to steal their valuables.”
“Then why did you take it off the other night?”
Why had she?She’d kissed Dapney once previously, and the sensation had been completely acceptable, if unexciting. The night of the Shakespearean discussion, though, she might as well have kissed a fish. Wet, amateurish, and awful. Yes, she’d pursued a match with him, but the idea that the diamond might…encourage him, encourage another proposal, had made her queasy. And as soon as she took the thing off, there had been Connoll.
“I took it off,” she finally said, when she realized Doretta was still looking at her, “because I wanted to see what would happen. Nothing did, naturally, and then I forgot that I’d removed it.”
“Well, if you were to ask me, I think itis cursed. Before you had it, you were set on getting Lord Redmond to propose to you. Now, though, it’s not him you’re thinking about. And that willnot please your mama.”
“Now you’re overstepping, Doretta,” Evangeline said sharply, pulling on her white, elbow-length gloves. “Nothing has changed. I very likely will marry Lord Redmond. If before that I choose to indulge in a kiss or two with a very accomplished gentleman, that’s no one’s concern but my own.”
“I beg your pardon, then, Miss Munroe.” The maid dipped a curtsy.
Evangeline stood. “No matter. And I suppose if the diamond is either bad luck or good luck for the wearer,
we’ll find out tonight. I know quite well what Mama wants for me.”
Surreptitiously Doretta crossed her fingers and turned a circle. Evangeline pretended not to notice—protection against even an imagined curse couldn’t hurt.
The grandfather clock on the landing showed five minutes of eight as they descended the stairs. She wondered again why, precisely, Lord Rawley still wanted to provide her an escort tonight. As she recalled, the last thing she’d said to him had been “go away,” or something very close to that.
If he meant to take the opportunity to tease her again for having a plan to secure her future, she would box his ears. Or she would bring up again the fact that they’d met because he’d been drunk and had fallen on her. If anyone deserved to be laughed at, it was him.
As she reached the foyer, someone rapped at the front door. Her heart skittered—which annoyed her. Yes, his kiss had been the devil’s inspiration for thinking up sin, but he had nothing else in his favor at all.
Clifford pulled open the door. “Good evening, my lord,” he said, bowing as he backed out of the doorway.
“Good evening,” Connoll’s low drawl returned, and then the man himself stepped into the foyer.
“Good—” Evangeline’s jaw dropped as she looked at him.
“I assume you’re speechless in admiration,” he said, brushing at the powder-blue sleeve of his coat. “It is what you requested.”
“But…but you said no,” she stammered. With light gray pants tucked into polished Hessian boots and a blue-thread paisley pattern on his cream-colored waistcoat, he looked like a dandy—a muscular, slightly dangerous one, but in those colors he couldn’t be anything
else. The colors did have the effect of making his eyes look the deep blue of the top of the sky at noon; in fact, she could barely tear her gaze from his long enough to take in the rest of him.
“I’ve decided that doing as you request is more pleasant than arguing,” he said easily.
Her mother stepped out of the sitting room. “My,” she said after a moment. “The two of you look very well together.”
“It was Evangeline’s idea,” Connoll replied. “She asked me to wear a coat that complemented her gown.” He smiled. “May I say, my lady,” he continued, “that necklace is exquisite.”
The viscountess lowered her lashes, one hand fluttering up to touch the diamond. “Thank you, Lord Rawley. It’s a family piece.” After a glance about the small foyer, she gestured at the butler. “Go fetch Lord Munroe,” she instructed, “and tell him that if he isn’t prompt, we will leave without him.”
Evangeline wiped the surprised, suspicious scowl off her face to look at Connoll. Rather than making a cynical comment about how much mother and daughter now resembled one another, however, he was looking at his reflection in the hall mirror. As she watched, he fluffed up one side of his cravat. As blue eyes caught hers in the mirror’s reflection, his smile deepened.
“What?” she whispered, strolling up behind him.
“You look lovely,” he returned. “I’m glad to be a planet orbiting in the light of your sun.”
“Mm-hm.”
Before she could comment further on that nonsense, her father appeared, hurrying down the stairs with Clifford on his heels. “My apologies, my love,” he said. “I was reading, and lost track of the time.”
The viscountess gave him a dismissive look and turned for the entry. With the butler still halfway up the stairs, Connoll moved in to open the front door for her. As much as he’d meant to surprise Gilly tonight with his wardrobe and his cooperation, she’d surprised him, as well. He’d only gotten a glimpse of the diamond necklace the other night, but he recognized it—and he recognized that it was the viscountess wearing it, and not Evangeline.
He wanted to ask her why, but that wouldn’t fit with his plan for the evening. And so he bit his tongue and smiled as he helped both ladies into his coach and then followed Lord Munroe inside. Wearing what he was to a very popular soiree was probably going to be the stupidest thing he’d ever done—except for getting drunk and falling on Gilly—but if his assessment was correct, giving her precisely what she claimed to want could be the very best way to prove that she was in error.
She was gazing at him again, her expression still wary and suspicious. If she thought he meant to try something tonight, she was too late. They were already well into the game.
“What were you reading that so engrossed you, Papa?” she asked after several moments of silence.
The viscount stirred, sending a swift glance in his wife’s direction. “Ah, just the newspaper. A fascinating article on the reinstatement of the French monarchy once we’ve dealt with Bonaparte again.”
Connoll lowered his brow, wishing everyone would stop talking about France, then smoothed the expression as the viscountess looked up at him and smiled. “That was kind of you to dress in coordination with Evangeline,” she said.
“Oh, I worship your daughter,” he said, repeating
what he’d heard Dapney say the other night. “I would do anything for her.”
“Would you, now?”
“Anything. Ask it of me.”
“I’m sure that’s not necessary,” Gilly broke in to the conversation.
“We might at least know what Lord Rawley’s intentions are toward you,” her mother countered.
“Surely I’m not Miss Munroe’s only suitor. Though I am the most sincere, I assure you.” He clenched his jaw at the silliness spilling from his own lips. Whatever he was getting into, however, he’d already vowed to see it through. “My annual income is in the vicinity of twenty-five thousand pounds,” he said with every ounce of unctuousness he possessed—a means to an end. “I could provide her with anything she wanted. I would be happy to do so.”
“Twenty-five thousand,” the viscountess repeated, her eyes growing larger. “And a marquis.”
“My main estate in Devonshire is rumored to be the finest in three counties,” he continued. “My great-great-great-grandfather had it built in 1612.”
“Your main estate? How many do you own?”
“Well, four in Scotland,” he returned, ticking them off on his fingers, “one in Devonshire, one in York, and a seventh in Cornwall. And the two houses here in London, though I’ve given one over to my cousin and his family. They also have use of the estate in Cornwall. One can only live in so many places.”
“Indeed.”
Evangeline gazed at him, her lips pursed. “There are some rumors,” she said slowly, flicking her skirt, “that you recently spent some time in France, and that you have sympathies with Bonaparte and the French.”
