Robert very nearly laughed aloud but managed only the faintest quirk of a brow. “Ah. A natural consequence of generosity, I suppose. My apologies.”
Evelyn said nothing, merely looked as though she’d like to hurl a gown or two at him.
“I did not come empty-handed,” he added, and drew a small parcel from his coat. “No flowers this time. I feared they’d end up in the fireplace again.”
She blinked, caught off guard as he held the slim, leather-bound book toward her. “This is from my personal library. I thought it might suit your tastes.”
“Thank you,” she said warily, taking it. “But I rarely have time to read these days.”
Lady Brimwood turned her head sharply. “What are you talking about, dear child? You love reading. Why, you spend entire mornings with your nose in novels!”
Robert looked at Evelyn, who was now avoiding both their gazes with studied indifference. He bit back a grin.
“Ah,” he said softly, “I see.”
Evelyn shot him a look of pure warning.
“I wonder,” he mused aloud, “if you might do me the honor of a walk through the gardens, Miss Ellory. We would, of course, remain within eyesight. A little air might refresh the senses. Perhaps even aid in your most burdensome gown deliberations.”
Before she could offer the sharp refusal he saw rising in her eyes, Lady Brimwood placed a firm hand on her daughter’s arm.
“What a lovely idea,” she said brightly. “Go on, Evelyn. It would be rude to decline.”
There was a long pause. Robert waited patiently. Finally, Evelyn gave a short, elegant nod, set the book down a little too carefully, and rose with the dignity of a wronged queen.
He offered her his arm, which she accepted with visible reluctance, and they stepped into the hall together as the sound of Lady Brimwood’s delighted humming followed behind them.
Robert glanced side long at her once they reached the corridor. “You’ll be pleased to know,” he said, “that I didn’t bring a bridal veil. I feared it might tip you over the edge.”
Evelyn gave him a cold, brilliant smile. “A pity. I might have used it to strangle you.”
Robert could barely refrain himself from laughing loudly. He truly couldn’t remember the last time someone had the nerve to speak to him so boldly, so unapologetically, offering the first thing that came to mind. It was so utterly refreshing, he could barely hide his amusement.
They had scarcely reached the rose path before Robert asked about the book he had just gifted her.
Evelyn glanced at him sideways. “I glanced at the title.”
“And?”
She seized the moment and pulled her hand away from his arm, only to fold her arms. “I don’t know the author.”
He slowed a step. “You don’t know the author?” he repeated, genuinely surprised.
“No,” she said with a shrug. “Should I?”
“Miss Ellory,” he replied, half incredulous, “that was St. John Grantham. He’s one of the most celebrated essayists of the last decade.”
“Ah,” she said lightly. “Well. I suppose I was too busy doing embroidery.”
Robert looked at her more closely. She wasn’t teasing. At least, not entirely. Her tone was cool and unbothered, but something defensive lingered in the tilt of her chin.
“I must confess, your ignorance is… surprising.”
“I told you,” she said, stopping by a flowering arch, “I don’t really read.”
“But your mother?—”
“She lies,” Evelyn said crisply. “Or rather, she embellishes when she believes it makes me appear more accomplished. It’s a habit of hers.”
