She tilted toward him, too, one hand still stroking Louis’s fur. “You would personally guarantee it?”
“I would see to it myself,” he replied.
She smiled, one brow arched. “How could I refuse? One is so rarely guaranteedcompletesatisfaction.”
He ran his fingertip over her wrist. “I hope you wouldn’t refuse. Your presence would assuremysatisfaction.”
She smiled, the same dreamy smile that had captivated him from across Lord Allen’s drawing room years ago. “I don’t wish to deny you any such pleasure.”
“I hope not,” he returned, “since my pleasure is vested in bringingyoupleasure.”
Her eyes grew soft. “Silly man! You must know you bring me more pleasure than anything else in this world.”
His heart gave a solid thump. His exact feeling about her. The last several days away from her had driven home to him how much so.
He had agreed to a discreet, almost clandestine, relationship because she’d wanted it, and he’d wanted her badly enough to agree to virtually anything she asked of him. He’d had no way of knowing where things would lead, though. Instead of his attraction burning itself out eventually, like a flame consuming oil-soaked rags, it had become something integral to his very being. He couldn’t imagine being without her, and more and more it chafed that they must keep a discreet distance.
Clemency had told him once that everyone whispered that they were living together in sin, which had given Richard a stab of unease. He’d listened and watched closely, but had seen no sign that it afflicted Evangeline. He himself suffered no ill effects, though they would have had to be crippling to deter him. Perhaps the gossips had finally had enough of them.
He wanted more. More of her, more ofthem.
If she were willing to go to a salon with him, on his arm, it would be a tentative first step toward a public declaration. He loved this woman. His heart and mind had been pledged to her for some time, but only in private. He wanted to say it aloud; he wanted everyone to know. He wanted her hand on his arm when he attended some pompous aristocrat’s salon, he wanted her as his dinner partner at every ball, he wanted to help her into his carriage at the end of the evening and take her back to theirhome, where he wouldn’t need to slip away in the first blush of dawn through the garden.
Behind them, the door opened. A tall young lady with dark hair stood there, fairly gaping at them—athim. Richard hid his grimace of dismay behind a polite smile. This must be Joan, whose mother thought him scandalous and dangerous.
He did not wait, but took his leave after a few pleasantries. He’d had his moment with Evangeline, and it would carry him through a few more days without her. He walked home with the dogs, Louis protesting all the way, and considered his next act.
Chapter 25
Despite Richard’s words of caution, Evangeline felt a wholly unexpected excitement over her new role as chaperone.
Lord Burke had called twice, sent flowers—to Joanandto Evangeline—and asked to take her niece driving. He also looked at Joan with the sort of veiled fascination Evangeline recognized. He might not think himself the marrying kind, but he likely soon would.
Of course she’d written to Richard for intelligence of the viscount. He’d reported back favorably, as far as these things went. And Evangeline, not unaware of the delight Joan was trying desperately to hide at being noticed by one of the handsomest, most eligible single peers in London, made her first grievous error.
When Lord Burke had written to her, very properly, asking permission to take Joan driving, Evangeline had seen the smile that lit Joan’s face when she read it. She’d given her permission. And Joan, despite blushing furiously and muttering about Lord Burke’s general unreliability, had accepted the invitation.
As a result, two days later, Evangeline was pacing the drawing room, with no idea where her niece was or when she would be back. Smythe, the Bennet butler, could only tell herthat Lord Burke had called very early that morning, that Joan had been inexplicably up and dressed to go out, and they had driven off together.
That was not what Evangeline had envisioned. She had pictured Burke calling at a decent hour, coming inside like a proper gentleman, and answering her questions about where they intended to drive and when to expect them back. She had been prepared for that, even though it had given her a spark of incredulous amusement that she, of all people, was such a starchy chaperone. Still, she told herself not to worry; a turn or two around the park was as respectable as Marion could wish, and would only take an hour.
An hour had gone by. Then another. And another.
Joan and Lord Burke did not reappear.
Even as she told herself not to panic, that rushing to the park in her own carriage in search of them would be a mistake, Evangeline couldn’t stop agonizing over where they might be. And what she would tell George. Where had Burke taken Joan? What could they be doing? She wore a path in the carpet, pacing from door to window.
Smythe silently brought tea, with the brandy decanter alongside the pot.
Evangeline laughed bitterly when she saw it. “You’ve read my mind, Smythe.”
“Don’t fret, my lady,” replied the butler gently. “Miss Bennet is a sensible young lady.”
She glanced sideways at him. “And Lord Burke?”
He conceded that hit with a dip of his head. No one knew, for certain, about Lord Burke.
She picked up the decanter and poured a healthy splash into her cup of tea. “What do you think Sir George would do to me, if there were a scandal? Drawing and quartering, or pistols at dawn?”
