Twice the Temptation (15 page)

 
“I, ah, yes, I have,” the viscount said, offering a forced smile.

 
Connoll handed her off to Dapney, wondering if she would ever realize just how close she was treading to the edge of disaster. Whether she knew it yet or not, Gilly was his. And he didn’t like to share. “Enjoy yourselves,” he said smoothly, and without a backward glance walked over to find Miss Halloway.

 
The second waltz would be his. And between now and then he needed to conjure a way to convince a very stubborn young lady that her views of married life in general and men in particular left a great deal to be desired. And that over the past week he had come to desire one thing above all others—her.

 
Chapter 8

 
“May I ask you a question, Lord Dapney?”Evangeline queried as they circled the dance floor.

 
“Of course, Miss Munroe.” He smiled at her. “And then I have a bit of news you might enjoy.”

 
“Tell me your news first, then.”

 
“Oh. Very well.” He cleared his throat, giving a surreptitious glance about the crowded room before he faced her again. “What would you say if I told you that I am in the midst of acquiring a very fine thirty-foot yacht?”

 
“A yacht?” she repeated, hiding her abrupt frown. Though she hadn’t heard the rumor herself, according to Connell the viscount had recently sunk just such a vessel after less than a day of ownership.

 
“Yes. I thought that it might be a pleasant way to travel to Italy for a…honeymoon, say.”

 
Wonderful. He meant to sail them through the combined battling forces of Bonaparte and England and Spain in order to crash them on some pier in Venice. “Italy,” she said slowly. “That’s interesting. Who would
you be honeymooning with? My dream for my own honeymoon has always been to visit Scotland. We shall have to compare our adventures.”

 
“Scot…” The viscount swallowed audibly. “As I said, the purchase hasn’t been completed yet. But what was your question, my precious?”

 
“I wanted to know if you would describe for me how you see yourself in five years. Family, politics, that sort of thing.”

 
It was a silly, useless question; if things went as she planned, in five years he would be exactly where she told him to be. But still, she wanted to know what he would conjure on his own.

 
“Five years?” His brow furrowed. “Well, I’ll be six-and-twenty.”

 
Good—he could do basic arithmetic. Evangeline reined in her abrupt annoyance at Dapney’s lack of imagination. That was one of the reasons she’d chosen him, after all. And her aunt had accused her of suffering from the same malady. “Yes, you will be,” she prompted after a moment. “And?”

 
“And I presume I’ll be married to a particular young lady,” he continued, smiling at her. “And we’ll hold grand house parties at my estate, and everyone will beg to be invited. Even Wellington and Prinny.”

 
No mention of political ambitions, business or income advances, and no children. All of those decisions, then, would be hers. She drew a breath, smiling back at him and wishing impatience and the stirring desire to be elsewhere hadn’t begun crawling beneath her skin. His life could be a successful, admired one—with her assistance, of course.

 
Beyond them, Leandra twirled about the dance floor in Connoll’s arms. She was smiling, laughing at some
undoubtedly witty comment from the marquis. Leandra had already admitted that she would jump at the chance to become the Marchioness of Rawley; Evangeline supposed she should wish her friend well.

 
Except that she didn’t. Despite his arrogance and self-importance, she enjoyed having Connoll Addison pursuing her. Who wouldn’t be flattered? He was titled, wealthy, and exceptionally handsome. He was also both very intelligent and very witty—which some women might consider of even more importance than the other assets, though she didn’t know who those women might be. And even the way he’d been pursuing her demonstrated quite clearly that he would accept no outcome but the one he wanted.

 
She had other plans—which left her with either Dapney or Redmond. “Do you like to read?” she asked abruptly, returning her attention to the viscount.

 
“Not particularly,” he responded easily. “It takes far too much energy and concentration with no reward. I’d rather play cards.”

 
“Cards?”

 
He must have heard the consternation in her voice, because he cleared his throat. “I’m a fair hand at faro, if I do say so myself. Just last night I won forty pounds at the table.”

 
Another flaw of which she would have to rid him if they married.If . She wanted to rub her hands across her face, to clear her head of the jumble of thoughts filling it. She still had an alternative choice in Lord Redmond. The earl probably didn’t wager—at least not heavily—because he preferred to be at home and in bed by eleven. The worst of the gamblers had barely begun their evenings by then.

 
The waltz ended, and she joined in the applause. As
Dapney returned her to her mother’s side, Leandra grabbed her arm. Laughing and out of breath, her friend’s face was flushed and excited. “You never told me he was so amusing,” she gasped, still chuckling.

 
“Yes, Lord Rawley is full of wit,” Evangeline said succinctly, turning to find that cool blue gaze of his on her.

 
“You wish another lemonade, I suppose?” he asked, his expression contorting into what was undoubtedly his interpretation of blandness.

 
“Actually, Lord Rawley,” she said, the noise of the room around her rising into an alarming, suffocating shriek as the orchestra wandered off to scavenge a meal from the kitchen, “I could use a breath of fresh air.”

 
“Ah. Does one usually deliver that to you in a bottle? A corked one, I would assume.”

 
Beside her, Leandra giggled again.

 
Evangeline wanted to knock her friend sideways. “Perhaps you could deliver me to it,” she said in her calmest voice, “as I think you understood.”

 
He offered his arm. “Just trying to be accommodating.” Connoll nodded at her mother. “May I bring you anything, my lady?”

 
“Nothing but the return of my daughter in time for the quadrille with Lord Redmond,” she said.

 
“Of course.”

 
Together they crossed the room to one of the four doorways that opened onto the Howlett veranda and garden. “I know what you’re trying to do,” she said, releasing his arm as soon as they left the house for the cool, torch-lit darkness. The breeze brushed across her face, but did nothing for the tangle in her mind.

 
“I’m trying to be exactly what you want,” he returned, crossing to the top of the veranda’s shallow stone steps. “That’s not a secret.”

 
She faced him. “No. You’re trying to convince me that what I want isn’t what I want. I’m perfectly aware of your underhandedness, and you’re wrong.”

 
Connoll leaned a haunch against the brick of the raised flower bed. “Am I doing all that? It sounds like a great deal of bother.”

 
Itwas a great deal of bother. “I want a husband,” she said. “I want a particular kind of man, just as some people want a particular kind of…dog.”

 
“I think I’m insulted.”

 
She shook her head, refusing to be sent off her track. “We both know that you don’t fit into my list of preferences. Why are you bothering to pretend that you do?”

 
For a moment he gazed at her in silence. Finally he straightened. “I suppose I’m hoping you’ll realize you’ve fallen into a Greek play with the moral of ‘Be careful what you wish for.’” Connoll took a step closer to her. “Tonight, I am what you wish for. I have no opinions which aren’t yours, no thoughts which aren’t about pleasing you.” Another step. “The question then becomes, do you like me better tonight than yesterday?”

 
“And what if I like you better tonight?”

 
He looked down for a heartbeat, the expression that fleetingly crossed his lean, handsome features almost regretful. “If you like me better tonight, Gilly, then you’d be equally satisfied with Dapney or Redmond, and I will respectfully bow out of the pursuit.”

 
For a second she gazed at him, dumbfounded. It didn’t make any sense. He didn’t make any sense. “But you—” She stopped, tilting her head to look at him from a different angle. “You wore blue—light blue—just as I asked. Why did you do that, if it was merely to make some statement about me being wrong?”

 
Connoll shrugged. “It’s only clothes, Gilly.” He reached
out, running a finger gently along her left cheek. “I’m hoping you’re worth the expense of the—”

 
“Of the lesson?” she finished, batting his hand away. “You’re a very stupid man.”

 
His brow furrowed. “Beg pardon?”

 
“Why am I wrong? Why is it that you’re in the right? Because you think that a man should do nothing to accommodate a woman? That she should dress to reflect well on him, but he needn’t bend to any of her wishes or requests? That—”

 
“That’s enough, Evangeline,” he broke in.

 
“Why, because you say so?” She put her hands on her hips as she warmed to the argument. “It seems to me that you like me, while I don’t like you.You are the one who needs to become someone else. Not me.”

 
“Are you finished?”

 
“Yes, I am.” With a last glare at him, she turned on her heel. “I’m going to get my diamond. Good or bad luck, it seems to keep you away from me.”

 
Two steps later, a hand grabbed her arm. Before she could do more than open her mouth to protest, Connoll pulled her around to face him. “No.”

 
“No, what? That’s hardly—”

 
He kissed her. She forgot to breathe as his mouth moved against hers, the scent of port and shaving soap filling her nostrils and making her feel giddy. Evangeline put her hands on his shoulders and shoved. This was about how wrong he was for her, not about goose bumps and breathlessness.

 
“That does not—”

 
He moved in again, slower, teasing, nibbling, until the tangle fled her mind to be replaced by one word only—Connoll. Good Lord, he knew how to kiss. Feeling helpless as a moth to firelight, she leaned into his
chest, sliding her arms around his shoulders, tangling her fingers into his black, wavy hair. If all they ever had to do was kiss, they would have no problems at all getting along.

 
His body dipped, and abruptly she was in the air, cradled in his arms. “Put me—”

 
“Do not say another word,” he murmured, steel beneath the velvet of his deep voice.

 
Evangeline frowned. “I will not—”

 
“No. I am not going to listen to you logic yourself into a marriage with one of those idiots. Not until you understand what a union between two people involves.”

 
She would have protested his high-handedness again, but the glint in his eyes made her reconsider. Why he was now the expert concerning what she required in a marriage, she had no idea, though he probably thought he knew everything. For the moment, scooped up in his arms and holding tightly to his shoulders, feeling the hard beat of his heart against her arm, she would observe and bide her time.