Chapter 28
No matter how much she concentrated on keeping her face averted from Mr. Lioncroft’s corner of the garden, Evangeline was unable to miss him rise to his feet, change places with the birthday girl, and sit back down. Not only was his back to her—and she doubted she overreacted in imagining a personal slight behind the exchange—he now lounged alongside Susan far more intimately than ever, having secured his nieces on the opposite end of the blanket.
Evangeline would never have suggested Susan make an effort to arouse Mr. Lioncroft’s interest if she’d thought Susan had a chance in hell of succeeding.
“Aargh.” Evangeline ripped her gaze away for the ten-thousandth time. If there was an error here, it was hers. She was the one who thrust Susan upon him. If Evangeline had perhaps taken her place at Mr. Lioncroft’s side…Oh, what would it matter? The moment Evangeline left—and she would surely make her escape the moment she had the wherewithal to do so—Lady Stanton would swoop in and leg-shackle Susan to Mr. Lioncroft before you could say “haughty crone.”
“What’s wrong?” Lady Heatherbrook leaned forward, her face lined with concern.
“Nothing,” Evangeline muttered, embarrassed to be caught mooning over someone she could never have. She fumbled for her glass. Why couldn’t she have slept through the entire luncheon like Mr. Teasdale?
Lady Heatherbrook frowned. “Is it my brother?”
Evangeline choked on her wine. “Er, what?”
“You are smiling at the twins and conversing with me and appearing perfectly happy and engaged one minute, but the moment you glance over your shoulder—which I can’t help but notice occurs every few seconds—the most dreadful grimace twists up your features as though sharp needles have been stuck in your skin. It’s almost as if he…That is to say…I cannot help but wonder if perchance you share…”
“Nothing,” Evangeline blurted out, closing her eyes against the heat engulfing her face and the skepticism in Lady Heatherbrook’s gaze. “Nothing at all.”
“I see. Then I suppose it wouldn’t interest you to know he glances overhisshoulder thrice as often.”
“He what?” Evangeline nearly broke her neck twisting around to look. She froze when she discovered him doing the exact same thing.
His heated gaze locked with hers until the breath escaped her lungs in tiny little gasps. His lips moved. He was mouthing something. What was he saying? She couldn’t tell. She couldn’t even think. The sight of his lips brought to mind the feel of his kisses, the kisses she would never again have, the kisses he would soon be sharing with Susan. Perhaps he even glanced Evangeline’s way to verify she took note of him nestled in close proximity to his future bride. After spending the noontime with Susan, there could be no doubt he’d realized the vast differences between Evangeline and a lady of Quality.
Horrible to imagine another woman feeling the weight of his body against hers, the heat of his flesh burning through her shift, the scratch of his jawline as he scraped his cheek across her skin in order to—Wait. Evangeline squinted.
He had shaved. This morning his jaw had been shadowed with stubble and his attire unremarkable, but now he looked as clean-shaven and tailored as the most particular oftonbucks.
Why? Appearances? Since when did he care about appearances? Since deciding to picnic with Susan? He was Quality and she was Quality and Evangeline was not. Harrumph. He’d looked better this morning. When his jaw was as scratchy and rough and raw as the man inside. When he didn’t cage his true self behind a smooth, pretty exterior just to appease the ridiculous dictates of Polite Society.
His kisses wouldn’t be the same now, without the warm feel of his lips smoothing away the delicious burn of masculine stubble. Then again, for all she knew, the next person to share his kisses might be Susan.
Evangeline jerked back to face Lady Heatherbrook. It took only the tiniest of moments for the countess to unblur and come back into focus.
“If he looks at me again,” Evangeline said tightly, careful not to blink. “Don’t tell me. I prefer not to know.”
If Lady Heatherbrook found this to be an odd request, she gave no sign. She spoke not another word on the topic and allowed Evangeline to spend the rest of the picnic lunch focusing on the rambunctious twins.
Not for the first time, Evangeline wished she’d had a sister. Someone with whom she could play and laugh and tease. Someone she could’ve run away with, rather than flee her stepfather on her own. The solitary life was, well, solitary.
She glanced over her shoulder despite herself and cringed to see Susan and Mr. Lioncroft deep in conversation. They didn’t look solitary. Why, oh, why hadn’t she taken the empty seat herself, if she wanted it so much? Because self-sacrifice made her a better person? Bah. Self-sacrifice simply for self-sacrifice’s sake didn’t make anyone noble—it made her lonely. And maybe stupid. Bearing the Gift was a lonely enough curse on its own, before she’d gone and ostracized the one man she could interact with as a woman, not a witch.
Oh! He was turning his head. Evangeline snapped her gaze back to the twins and threw all her focus and willpower into their entertainment until the servants came to clear away the picnic miscellany.
“It’s time, it’s time!” Jane danced from one blanket to another, clapping and grinning. “Come away from the flowers and trees, everyone. It’s time for kite-flying!”
Susan approached the blanket just as Evangeline rose to her feet.
“Well?” Evangeline heard herself ask sourly. “How did it go?”
“Boring.”
“Boring,” Evangeline repeated in disbelief. “In what way? Weren’t you talking?”
Susan lifted a shoulder. “I suppose.”
Evangeline’s fingers clenched. She waited until it was clear no further information would be forthcoming before bursting out with, “Well, what did he say?”
