She paused just inside the doorway of a parlor. She’d deliberately left them alone in the dining room. What were they saying?
“That was one of my favorite holidays from school,” Burke was saying, almost wistfully.
“Why?” exclaimed Joan. “I meant to say . . . I’m glad you enjoyed your time there . . .”
Her lips parted as she realized they were talking about Helston Hall, the Bennet property in Cornwall. Evangeline had loved that house, and all of Cornwall, where she could run free and swim in the ocean and ride ponies on the dunes. But her mother had thought it too rustic and so they’d spent little time there.
Shamelessly she eavesdropped harder. Burke had been there as a lad, invited by Douglas—and it sounded as if they’d got into a great lot of trouble. Evangeline inhaled as something Joan had told her finally made sense.
After the ballooning trip, Evangeline had made a concerted effort to discover how deep and true Joan’s attraction to Lord Burke ran. Joan had admitted that her mother disapproved of Burke, very strongly. Marion considered him wild and arrogant and—worst of all—indifferent to propriety. It all rang true to what Evangeline knew of Marion, but at the same time... Burke was young, handsome, eligible, and wealthy. Virtually every mother of the ton would be delighted if the viscount began paying attention to one of their daughters. The unkind thought that perhaps Marion didn’t really want to see Joan wed had crossed her mind, for there were vanishingly few men in London who could possibly meet Marion’s standards, yet still be acceptable to Joan.
But now, listening in on Burke’s and Joan’s conversation, Evangeline realized precisely why Marion didn’t care for Burke. It wasn’t anything to do with Joan, or his behavior now. He’d encouraged Douglas’s wilder instincts when her son was still a boy and not yet a rakish rogue. How much easier it was to blame an outsider, a boy with no parents or protective family to defend him, for her son’s wild behavior rather than admit that she had little sway over his actions.
Evangeline would have laughed, if it hadn’t been such an important point. Perhaps back then, Marion hadn’t fully realized that deviltry was bred deep in the Bennets.
She made herself move away. Shewasinterested in the improvements to the house, and she’d heard enough. There was genuine trust and feeling between Joan and Burke. He showed Joan something that made her niece exclaim in delight, andEvangeline smiled ruefully when she realized it was a coal lift, to bring coal straight from the cellar to the parlor.
Decidedly not a rakish seduction in progress.
When they met her in the hall a few minutes later, she looked at Burke with fresh eyes. He was boyishly enthusiastic, pointing out the skylight above the stairs and the new banister, stealing glances at Joan every few minutes to judge her reaction. He seemed positively thrilled to show Joan water closets and pipes and new floors—and even more promising, Joan was thrilled to see them. Again Evangeline drifted away, this time to think.
Burke wassoeligible. Roguish ways aside, that was undeniable. He had an old title and a healthy fortune, soon a very handsome house in a fashionable neighborhood, and he gave every sign of falling hard for Joan. George, she reflected, had been much the same, although he hadn’t yet inherited when The Honorable Miss Marion Douglas caught his eye.
She blew out a breath. She had been caught up in her own troubles then, and hadn’t paid much attention to how George went about his courting. But she knew he had reformed his behavior; he gave up some particularly dissolute friends, and curtailed his drinking and gaming. And he had settled right down after his wedding. Thirty years later he was still a devoted husband and attentive father. Surely Burke could be the same.
Her companions had gone into the main bedchamber, which smelled of wet plaster. Their voices were low, echoing indistinctly in the empty room. Evangeline wished she knew more about Burke, or London society. She felt the weight of ignorance pressing down on her. Should she encourage this suit, or dissuade the young man because of Marion’s animosity? Perhaps he would be undaunted; perhaps he, like George, would change his life to win his love’s favor.
Or... perhaps he would be offended, and turn his attentions elsewhere. Joan was twenty-four years old and had been out forsix years. Fanny reported that she was generally liked, but also something of a wallflower. Joan’s reactions alone were enough to tell Evangeline that suitors were unusual for her.
She stared out the window at Hanover Square for several minutes before realizing how quiet it had become. Joan and Lord Burke had not emerged from the bedchamber, but they were no longer speaking. Evangeline felt a start of alarm. She had suggested Joan let the viscount kiss her, but now she was doubting everything. She strode after them, determined to keep a close eye on her charge, but with no clear idea in her mind how to proceed.
Chapter 27
“It would really be the most thrilling thing in London this year,” Clemency said earnestly. “Please say you’ll consider it.”
Richard made a face, accepting some biscuits from the plate his sister offered. “I have no objection to attending a ball. I have no desire to give a speech there.”
“But your adventures are so interesting!” she protested. “They all told me so, when you spoke of them years ago.”
“Yes, I already spoke of them. Today no one cares that I have climbed mountains,” he told her. “It was years ago, and I am no longer interesting to society.”
“You are,” she protested. “You could be!”
Richard made a face.
“You know she may be correct,” said Gerhard mildly. “The English are wild for travel again, and you have been places few of them have seen.”
“That’s true,” chimed in Clemency at once. “And no one remembers your speeches from years ago. Why won’t you do just one, to see how it is received?”
Richard stirred his tea to avoid answering. They were in Clemency’s drawing room, with a warm breeze drifting throughthe sunlit windows opposite him. It was a splendid day out today, and he wished his nephew would hurry home so he could be out in that sunlight.
He’d found himself at loose ends more than usual, in Evangeline’s absence, and had ended up at his sister’s more frequently. Her sons were home from school on holiday: Rafael from Cambridge and Gabriel from his last year at Harrow. Rafael had asked him for shooting lessons, and Clemency had finally agreed. But the boy was not home yet, and Richard had been lured into having tea.
“Lady Brentwood would be delighted if you agreed to speak at her upcoming ball,” Clemency pressed on, more cautiously but also more hopefully. “Sir Paul was always a supporter of your travels. He would be well pleased to have you.”
Richard raised his eyes to his sister’s. Her face was flushed pink. “Clemency. You cannot invite me to someone else’s ball.” Her blush deepened, and she flicked a glance at Gerhard, who gave a tiny nod in encouragement. Richard sighed as understanding dawned. “Unless Sir Paul or Lady Brentwood has enlisted you to persuade me.”
“Well, Lady Brentwood did mention that Sir Paul would like it very much,” his sister defended herself. “And Gerhard thought you might agree, since it’s been so long, and—and?—”
