“But he won’t want me!” Susan blocked Evangeline from opening the front door. “Mother plans to force him. I won’t be cherished. I will be quashed.”
“Nobody will be quashed. Mr. Lioncroft isn’t the sort of man to be forced into anything he doesn’t want to do, false compromise or no.” Evangeline hoped. “Your mother knows he doesn’t plan to marry unless hechoosesto marry.”
Susan’s shoulders slumped. “Then how am I to trap him?”
“You cannot trap him,” Evangeline blurted out. “That is to say, you oughtn’t trap him. Or any man. You can only…You can only”—angels above, how could she have this conversation without retching?—“entice him.”
A frown creased Susan’s brow. “Entice him how?”
“By being yourself. By letting him be himself. Bytalkingto him. Getting to know him. And seeing if you like the person who he is inside.” Evangeline tugged on the door handle. “And vice versa.”
“I don’t know.” Susan stepped aside. “Sounds complicated.”
Evangeline pushed upon the front door and led the way from the porch to the front garden.
Jane Heatherbrook bounded up to them, face flushed and eyes sparkling. “Just in time! Uncle sent me to fetch you. We’re four to a blanket. Five if you count the twins as two people, which nobody ever does. I’m afraid you must mingle separately, however, as one remaining seat is with me and Uncle Lioncroft, and the other with Mother. The third blanket is already full with Lady Stanton and the Rutherfords. Did you see my jewelry? Look!” She beamed at them both while pointing toward her neck. “A cunning little portrait-locket. There’s no portrait yet, but there will be soon. And I’m to have a new wardrobe as well. I’ll look just as smart as you, Miss Stanton!”
Evangeline tried not to be wounded at being excluded from this last statement. She couldn’t deny the truth of it, having left such a trail of hairpins from her bedchamber to the front gardens that even someone as directionally inept as Susan would be able to use them as a path back to the guest quarters. So much for looking a fraction as elegant as the ever-coiffed soon-to-be Mrs. Lioncroft. Evangeline’s stomach roiled.
“Go on, then.” She nudged Susan with an elbow and tried to keep the peevishness from her tone. “Sit with him and Jane and Nancy. I shall sit with Mr. Teasdale, Lady Heatherbrook, and the twins.” Under no circumstance would she sit with Edmund Rutherford, who even now leered at her from behind a silver flask.
“I don’t know,” Susan stammered, but already Jane was tugging her toward the square of red cloth where Mr. Lioncroft lounged in conversation with his niece Nancy.
Evangeline began a solitary trek to the far corner of the grass where Lady Heatherbrook was making a valiant effort to wrestle two blond tornadoes onto a picnic blanket. This would be fun. Thiswouldbe fun. She loved children. She’d hardly be missing anything by not sharing Mr. Lioncroft’s blanket. And even if she was…well, self-sacrifice made her a better person. Wasn’t that what Mama always said?
Besides, Evangeline had a mystery to solve. She could begin by questioning Lady Heatherbrook. With any luck, she’d oust the true killer before the last canapé was eaten and be well on her way from Blackberry Manor, never to be seen or heard from again.
Evangeline smiled grimly as Mr. Lioncroft rose to help Susan onto their shared blanket. By leaving so soon, she’d have to miss the upcoming nuptials.
Pity.
Chapter 27
Why the hell was he picnicking with the Stanton chit instead of Miss Pemberton?
Gavin had purposefully orchestrated the seating arrangements so as to split up Nancy and Father Time, and to have a space available for a certain luscious female. A certain luscious female he sometimes felt like shaking sense into, yes, but first he owed her an apology. An apology for preemptively ruiningherapology. How he would’ve loved to have been on the receiving end of an apology! Gavin wasn’t sure such an event had ever transpired.
The moment he finished helping the blond disappointment into a seated position, he rounded on his niece, busy frolicking in circles round the group.
“Jane,” he said slowly, careful not to appear angry with her as it was in fact her birthday. “Did you deliver my message?”
“Yes, Uncle Lioncroft.”
“Exactly as I told you?”
“Yes, Uncle Lioncroft.”
“Then what the devil just happened?” His jaw clenched at Jane’s startled expression and he belatedly wished he could recall his abrupt words.
“Please sit, both of you,” Nancy called from her position on the blanket. “All your looming is making Miss Stanton nervous.”
Gavin glowered at them both before sitting. He didn’t care if he made the Stanton chit nervous. He was glad he made the Stanton chit nervous. If it would make the Stanton chit nervous enough to get up and trade positions with Miss Pemberton, he’d drop on all fours and snarl like a rabid lion.
His thirteen-year-old niece plopped down across from him and grinned.
“It’s my birthday, birthday, birthday,” Jane sang under her breath. She opened and closed the locket hanging around her neck with every repeated word. “It’s my birthday, birthday, birthday, birthday, birth—”
“Enough!” Nancy threw a piece of crusty bread at her sister. “We’ve all seen your necklace. Leave it be long enough to let us eat, will you?”
