He’d been such a wonderful dancer. So wonderful, she’d ended up in bed with him less than two hours later.
“Yes, all right,” she said at last. “Of course I shall go. I’ve already accepted. I told you I would at the beginning, didn’t I?”
“Good.” Fanny rose. “I will see you there.”
After her friend left, Evangeline picked up the note and the invitation and studied both.Don’t cause a stir.She tapped it against her palm. Nonsense. The only stir she meant to cause was with her lovely niece, now dressed in flattering garments and beginning to find her confidence as a woman. She would wager good money there would indeed be a stir when Lord Burke fell over himself to ask Joan to dance. Evangeline had made sure to tell the viscount they would attend.
Her spirits rising, she went to tell Joan—and to be certain her niece had an absolutely stunning gown to wear.
Chapter 29
Richard walked through the Brentwoods’ door with a fully formed plan.
He’d enlisted Gerhard’s and Clemency’s help. There was no man he trusted more than Gerhard, and now, on this matter of such importance to him, he’d confided all in his friend, whom he knew he could count on.
“You are in love with this woman,” was Gerhard’s only comment. “Of course you must try to win her.”
Clemency, of course, had been delighted. “Oh, Richard, how wonderful! We shall do all in our power to help.”
Gerhard had agreed that he would divert Sir Paul Brentwood and anyone else who appeared to interfere with Richard’s plan. It was a simple one, after all: charm everyone in sight and then approach Evangeline, once he had cut the legs from under any potential gossip. All he wanted was to dance with her, preferably the supper dance, when he would then be able to escort her in to dine. He would have her on his arm and at his side, in full view of London society.
Since the day their affair began, he had accepted and understood the need for discretion. Lolling in her steaming bathhouse years ago, he had heard everything she said, andsurmised a few things she hadn’t said. Her marriages had been awful, and both times she had been blamed for it. She had no faith that society wouldn’t paint her the most scandalous of wicked widows for associating with him. He had no reason to doubt her fear; he remembered his own sister’s initial reaction to her name.
And for six years, it hadn’t mattered. She rarely went to society events, so he rarely went, either. His friends quickly learned to invite her to any dinner or private soirée, if they wanted him to come. With their properties bordering each other, he saw her almost every day—or night. The path from Humberton Hall to Wyndham House was an easy one to travel even in the dark of night, now that he had his gardener maintain it.
But then she’d gone away to London, to her brother’s house in South Audley Street, where he could not come and go discreetly, or at all. “I wish it were different, but my sister-in-law is so mindful of propriety,” she’d told him, biting her lip with regret. “I don’t wish to cause her any unease, especially when she is ill.”
“Of course,” he’d told her. “I understand completely.”
Her face had shone with relief and gratitude. “Oh, Richard, thank you,” she’d said, squeezing his hand. “I do so want to do this, for Joan’s sake.”
And for her own, he thought. It had meant so much to her, and he wanted her to have the family connection she’d missed and craved for years, but the truth was, he had missed her even more than he’d expected to. Being deprived of her company for a mere month had driven home to him how deeply he cared for her, and how galling it was that the upturned noses of some matrons could cause such trouble in his life.
And in Evangeline’s. She might not crave their good opinion, but it had still cost her dearly. He’d had enough of that.
He headed right for his hostess, one of those matrons of upturned nose, and took her hand in his. She was a slender woman with pale eyes and a pointed chin. “My dear Lady Brentwood, how very kind of you to invite me to your gathering.” He kissed her knuckles, letting his lips actually brush her glove.
“Oh, my!” She blushed scarlet. “Why, Sir Richard, we aremostdelighted to have you! I know you do not often attend society events...”
He gazed into her pale blue eyes and gave her an intimate smile. “Ah, but this one is not the usual society party, is it?”
Her mouth sagged open for a second before she recovered. “Why, how good of you to notice! My husband and I do so enjoy these honorarium balls. Don’t we, Sir Paul?” she asked as her husband stepped up beside her.
“What? Yes, yes. Campion, capital to see you tonight.” He bowed, looking quite pleased with himself, and Richard returned the greeting. While most of Lord Allen’s friends had kept a distance from him since the night he’d dined with them at White’s, Brentwood had seemed to be even more impressed with his daring and nerve.
“My dear, I was just telling Sir Richard how much we treasure our honorarium balls,” said his wife, waving her closed fan about as she spoke, giving her the air of a conductor. “How very beneficial it is to our spirits to host a selection of guests who might broaden all our horizons, by sharing their knowledge and fascinating experiences.”
“Quite right, Lady Brentwood,” said Sir Paul with a benevolent smile. “Why simply dance and drink with our everyday society? No, I say, bring in the adventurers, the artists, the geniuses who will show us the future!”
Richard laid one hand on his heart and bowed his head. “You honor me.”
“Oh, sir,youdo honor us, with your company,” she trilled back.
“Perhaps you will grant me a dance, madam?”
Lady Brentwood turned pink again. “It would be my pleasure, sir.”
“And mine,” he said with a smile.
