But shewasthrilled. Because it felt like ages since she’d seen him, not three days. And all her indecision about the evening blew away on the evening breeze when he tucked her hand about his arm and smiled at her.
The other guests were charming, and not as unknown to her as she had feared. Lord Edward de Lacey, who’d had some experience of scandal himself several years ago, was there with his wife, whom Evangeline knew slightly. Lady Edward, whose Christian name was Francesca, was a member of some artisticsalon that Fanny also belonged to, and they chatted about art and artists.
Mr. Rieger was there, large and quiet but smiling at everyone. He inquired after Louis, and Evangeline regaled him with the tale of the cheese puffs Louis had stolen and eaten under the sofa, causing an uproar among the cook and maids.
Mrs. Murray was charming as hostess. She fluttered around the room, smiling and telling everyone how very glad she was they had come. The last member of the party, an artist called Thomas Wayles-Faire, was a gangly Scot prone to sweeping his elegant, long-fingered hands through the air as he spoke. Like Richard, it seemed Mr. Wayles-Faire was an explorer, or at least a traveler, and he was telling Lord Edward about Constantinople’s churches.
“Thank you for inviting us,” she said quietly to Richard. Everyone else seemed determined to leave them to each other, which was both disconcerting and gratifying. Was it that obvious that they only had eyes for each other? Or had Richard told everyone not to intrude on their moments?
“Thank you for accepting.” Between them, hidden from view of the other guests, his fingers skimmed her wrist. “I wanted an excuse to see you again.”
“You could have come to call,” she replied lightly. “People do it all the time, without the effort of arranging dinner for eight.”
He smiled. “A call would last half an hour. Dinner will take three or four hours, at the least.”
“That can be a good thing, or a very bad thing.”
His fingers trailed up her arm toward her elbow. “It will be a good thing to me if I merely am permitted to gaze at you and listen to your voice.” He lowered his voice even more as Evangeline fought off the urge to pull him into a private room for a few minutes, guests be damned. “I said I wanted to bring you nothing but pleasure. I hoped a dinner party would do that.”
“Very likely,” she said breathlessly. There were several people within ten feet of them, and she felt hot and flustered at the way he was touching her arm.
His smile deepened. “I sincerely hope so.”
You already have, she thought helplessly. Why had she ever thought she could resist him?
He led her into dinner, Mr. Rieger following with Fanny. Mrs. Murray had placed Evangeline at Richard’s right hand, which did not surprise her. From the other end of the table, Fanny sent her an arch look, her eyes flickering to Richard and then back to her. Evangeline pressed her lips together, to keep from giving the giddy smile she felt bubbling inside her, and tried to send her own message:behave yourself.
The other guests turned out to be a good mix for a dinner party. Lord Edward had been asking Wayles-Faire about his artistic travels, and he entertained them all through the soup and fish courses with tales of the lengths he had gone to in order to see the art he wished to study, from riding an ox up a mountain to dressing as a monk in order to visit one monastery.
“What do you make of the Museum bill, sir?” Fanny asked after a while.
“Oh my,” murmured Francesca as the artist inhaled audibly.
“What Museum bill?” whispered Evangeline, finally distracted from Richard’s profile beside her.
He leaned toward her. “The bill purchasing Lord Elgin’s marble statues for Britain.”
Evangeline had heard of it. The Earl of Elgin, a diplomat, had removed a large number of statues and carvings from Athens and shipped them back to England, where he had tried, with increasing desperation, to sell them to the government. Unsurprisingly he wanted a great deal of money, which was eliciting noisy protest from various people who didn’t like the expense, the action, or Elgin himself. “Ah.”
“It is,” pronounced Mr. Wayles-Faire, “an atrocity.”
Lord Edward’s brows went up. Fanny looked delighted, Francesca ruefully amused.
Mrs. Murray leapt into the breach. “Surely that’s a bit harsh,” she said in gentle reproach. “What will become of the carvings if the government does not buy them?”
The artist turned toward her. “They should be sent back to Athens, where they belong.”
“Elgin has spent a fortune bringing them here,” put in Mr. Rieger mildly. “An Englishman always wants his money.”
“Elgin is a Scot,” said Lord Edward.
“Which means hedefinitelywants his money,” murmured Fanny.
Wayles-Faire, also a Scot, scoffed. “Aye, and ’tis no excuse. He ought to have known better. He spent a fortune at his own choice! No one demanded he do it. In fact, I hear he has refused to pay several of the artists and workmen who assisted him—which is no more than they deserve,” he added darkly. “They ought to have known better than to throw in with the likes of Elgin.”
“What do you mean?” asked Mrs. Murray. “Surely it’s an artist’s dream to be invited to accompany a diplomatic mission, with permission to see all the treasures of antiquity.”
“Aye,” he replied, “but Elgin’s intentions were well-known. They willingly joined a thief’s raid.”
