“Of course not,” he said with a smile. “But I do think he has never been happier than with his new companion, Prince Louis.”
“And is that why you come to see me?” she asked, still smiling. “So that your dog can be with my dog?”
“That is a very convenient benefit, but no.” He put aside his notebook and leaned toward her. “It is much more selfish than that.”
“Is it? How so?” She stretched her neck, turning her face up to his, almost begging him to kiss her. So far her plans to have a torrid affair were going splendidly; Richard had proven as generous and charming as she’d thought, and she certainly felt in command of the relationship. Both times he’d come before, she’d had to tempt him into lovemaking.
He smiled. “You know what. I want to be with you.”
“You are,” she whispered. “Right now.”
“Hmm.” He leaned forward and gave her the kiss she wanted, but then pulled back. “But so far you have listened to me talk about myself, when I wish to hear about you.”
“A pox on that,” she said lightly. “I’m not half so interesting as you are.”
His faint smile had come back. “To me, you are fascinating.” He kissed her again, deeper this time, and she melted. However, to her disappointment, he raised his head and glanced at the sky. “Alas, my darling. I must go. Perhaps you will join me for a visit to town tomorrow?”
Evangeline’s smile stiffened. She had expected this affair to be conducted in discreet privacy, out in Chelsea. “I really have nothing to do in town, Richard.”
“No?” He was smiling again. At some point he’d taken hold of her hand, idly stroking her fingers and wrist. Now he brought it to his lips. “My sister tells me there is a vast deal of entertainment to be found there. Won’t you come with me? I must visit some shops, but I have heard tales of the ices at Gunter’s... They are a great favorite of my nephews. And I must confess, Lord Edward has offered me his box at the Theatre Royale tomorrow evening, which I have accepted but I have no companion.”
She hesitated. It would be one thing to join him for the theater, which she adored and made no secret of. She had been to the theater often, with many different people. But to strollthrough London and do something so public as eat ices at Gunter’s with him, and then attend the theater with him, would be highly suggestive to the gossips of society.
Did she dare announce it so clearly? It had only been a few weeks. She was still in the flush of infatuation, still enthralled by his company and humor and the stories he told her. And, obviously, by the multitude of pleasures he gave her physically.
Unaware of her inner turmoil, he rose to his feet, still holding her hand. “Will you? I could call for you at ten.” At her continued silence, he leaned down, his lips curving in the coaxing smile that never failed to persuade her. “Come with me, Evie,” he whispered, brushing a kiss over her mouth.
And despite her misgivings, she heard herself say, “Yes.”
Chapter 17
As promised, he called at ten exactly.
“A very handsome carriage,” she said as he helped her into the glossy curricle. “Is it new?”
He jumped into the seat beside her. “How did you know?” He clicked his tongue, and the horses moved forward without the slightest hesitation.
“It looks it.” She ran one hand over the polished wood beside her. To her surprise a panel popped open under her touch, and when she edged it open and peeked inside, she caught the gleam of polished steel. “Richard, have you got a pistol in there?” she asked in amazement.
He looked mildly surprised. “Of course. I always have a pair.” He glanced at her expression and asked, “Why? Does that alarm you?”
She didn’t know. With one more lingering glance at the weapons, she closed the panel. “It’s unusual.”
“Ah.” He grinned. “I’m afraid it is a habit with me. To be without something to defend yourself is very foolish, in many parts of the world. So, I keep them close at hand.”
Remembering some of the tales he had told her, she shook her head. “You are very unlikely to be threatened by Cossacks in Bond Street, or fall prey to an attack with spears in Piccadilly.”
“No doubt,” he said in good humor. “As I said, it is merely a habit. Think nothing of it.”
It was a beautiful day, and he drove briskly but confidently. When she complimented him, he laughed and said it was far easier to drive trained horses than yaks, as he’d had to learn from the Mongols. But as they drew nearer to London proper, Evangeline felt a tension creep into her shoulders, and she had to consciously relax when he helped her down at the White Horse Cellar stable, where he was leaving the equipage.
“I thought we might walk,” he said with a charming smile, offering his arm. “It is a fine day, and the traffic can be troublesome.”
Green Park stretched to their left, verdant and quiet. Ahead and to the right lay the finest shopping London had to offer. It had been years since Evangeline had walked here regularly—not since Court had still been alive, and she’d lived in the Courtenay house in Portman Square. In her mind these streets were still tinged with the virulent unhappiness of those years, but she had enjoyed the shops, the tea rooms, the museums and theaters. Spirits rising, telling herself not to be a goose, she tucked her arm around Richard’s, and they set off into Piccadilly.
She expected Richard to turn into Dover Street, where Mr. Manton’s shooting gallery was, but he didn’t even glance that way. Court had spent hours there, exhibiting his skill at shooting the wafers. She’d heard he was quite good. Perhaps if he’d kept a pistol on him at all times, as Richard did, he wouldn’t have been caught so unprepared by Lord Ambrose.
Then again, given what he’d been doing with Lady Ambrose when her husband had walked in, perhaps not.
