“Sir Richard mentioned that he was to dine with Lord Allen,” she remarked, giving her sister-in-law a contemplative look. “He’scertainly no friend of mine.”
“No,” said Marion, cheeks pink. She did share Evangeline’s dislike of the Allens. “But a duel—! Especially after?—”
She stopped, but Evangeline could fill it in. “After Ramsdale? Or Court? Perhaps Sir Elias—or do you mean Halesworth?”
Marion looked annoyed. “Any of them, Evangeline. It’s rather difficult to keep up with your scandals!” Her face blanked in horror, and she flushed a deeper red. “Forgive me,” she said swiftly. “I never should have said that!”
Evangeline waved one hand, though her other hand, hidden in her skirt, was balled into a fist. “But you were thinking it, so might as well have it out.”
“I know they were not entirely your fault,” said Marion, who appeared to be fighting both embarrassment and distress. “But you do seem to have a way of attracting the worst men.”
She reached for the teapot and refilled her cup, each action measured and deliberate. “And why is that my fault, rather than the fault of the men for being scoundrels and worse?”
“It’s not your fault,” said Marion at once. “But once you know, it’s best to discourage such men immediately!”
“I never gave Ramsdale the least encouragement,” she said evenly. “Court, who was a very eligible man until his ignominious death, was forced upon me by my father. Sir Elias is still widely received, even though you know how abominably he behaved. Halesworth... was a mistake, but no greater a mistake than many a lady makes. I was taken completely by surprise,and broke with him the instant I discovered his true nature. You yourself told me you had no idea he was such a gambler.”
“That’s true, but...” Marion bit her lip. “It is a distressing pattern, don’t you think?”
“Yes, Marion, I do,” snapped Evangeline, her temper slipping a bit. “It is humiliating to be made a fool of, or worse, by men I believed to be gentlemen. I certainly don’t set out on a mission to find the worst men in London!”
Marion bowed her head. “I know,” she said stiffly. “And if you say there is nothing between you and Sir Richard, I will respect that. I could not blame you for a man’s actions.”
Evangeline sat back on the sofa, wishing she had Louis with her. Marion wasn’t fond of dogs, though, and Solly had taken him out into the garden when Marion arrived. She wishedshecould go into the garden and avoid this. She took another bite of cake instead.
She was fond of her sister-in-law, who was a loving wife and devoted mother. Marion had a good heart—but she was also prone to being influenced by gossip, and her very fashionable friends were some of the worst gossips in London.
“I never said that.” She knew it was her temper speaking, but she didn’t care. Richard wasn’t like the others, her mistakes, and she didn’t want to be accused of lying. If only she knew what exactly had been said at White’s, and by whom, and what exactly Richard had done and why.
Marion’s brows snapped together. “Then—then youarehaving an affair with him?”
Evangeline fought off the temptation to roll her eyes. “As if there is no space between acquaintance and lover! But since you ask so plainly... yes. I am.”
She hadn’t meant to do this. She’d meant to keep it to herself, her own lovely private affair of the heart. Or body. She hadn’t quite decided which it was, but something inside her roseup instinctively to Richard’s defense. Whomever he’d waved a sword at had probably deserved it.
The other woman grew agitated. “What? Oh, why?”
“Have you met him?” Evangeline returned. “He’s utterly charming, and quite popular in fashionable circles as well—among ladiesandgentlemen.”
Marion flushed. Evangeline would have wagered good money that even ladies in Marion’s circles felt a flutter whenever Richard walked by. “But is he good for you?”
So far,she thought. So far he had been wonderful for her. But as she had no idea what he’d done in this matter, perhaps she was fooling herself. As Marion had pointed out, she’d been wrong before about a man. “I expect he’ll explain himself when he returns,” she said. “And if his explanation is not satisfactory, be assured I will turn him out at once.”
“May I suggest,” began Marion, with the air of someone choosing every word with care, “that you do so anyway? Not only is there bound to be talk, over this... whatever it is, but... My dear. You areneighbors. It’s unseemly.”
“That we can walk back and forth to visit each other without anyone spotting us? How is that worse than Lord Everton leaving his carriage outside Mrs. Armstrong’s house, in the heart of Berkeley Square, for hours every night?”
Marion flushed again, looking a trifle annoyed. Mrs. Armstrong was a member of her circle. “That’s also not well done, but?—”
“It is far more brazen, and right in front of the ton, too.”
“Be that as it may.” Marion’s face was still pink but her expression was serious once more. “Campion’s a bityoungfor you, isn’t he?”
“Cunningham was far too old for me, and that didn’t stop anyone,” she said before she could stop herself. “Perhaps Fate is attempting to make amends for it.”
Marion blinked, then gave a shocked gasp of laughter. Evangeline grinned, but the moment didn’t last.
“You would certainly deserve it, but my dear . . . at our age . . .” Marion paused delicately. “What I mean is, a man of his age will, sooner or later, want to marry . . . and . . . have children . . .”
