Richard thought it a marvel of restraint that he didn’t break Burke’s nose.
The younger man had kissed Miss Bennet’s hand and then watched Evangeline pull her from the room without a word. If anything, he looked entirely too calm and pleased with himself. He even smiled a little as he folded his handkerchief back into his pocket.
Never in his life had Richard seen Evangeline as anxious as she’d been while they searched the house. She, who could laugh in a thunderstorm and merely sigh over the tree that fell on her stable roof, had been terrified. He knew she would blame herself for any scandal that accrued to her niece’s name... from sneaking out of a ball to let a known scoundrel have his way with her.
He pitied his sister, with two sons to raise. How did parents manage not to run mad?
“I trust I need not remind you to say nothing at all toanyoneabout this,” Richard said acidly to Burke.
The man looked affronted. “How dare you. I’d never do that.”
“Then keep your bloody trousers buttoned, if you don’t wish to be shot,” he said, and stalked from the room.
He took deep, controlled breaths as he hurried down the stairs, trying to restore his calm. Evangeline and her niece had vanished; he guessed they’d left, due to Miss Bennet’s disarray and Evangeline’s upset. The memory of the woman on the stairs, though, watching them so avidly, lingered in his mind.
He didn’t want to be here, either. He longed to rush after Evangeline and make certain she reached home safely. He would let her scold her niece, then send the girl to her room to contemplate her error, while they worked out what to do. He could use a stiff whisky at the moment, and he imagined Evangeline could, as well.
But he was a guest of honor. People were watching him. They had seen him dancing with Evangeline and walking through the rooms arm in arm with her, and if he and she both disappeared from the ball, people would notice, and wonder.
He squared his shoulders and strode into the supper room. Perhaps he could stave off any rumors before they took root.
“Ah, Campion!” Sir Paul beckoned him. “There you are!”
He joined the man, smiling, bracing himself internally. “Good evening. What a marvelous party you’ve hosted.”
Lady Brentwood beamed and peered past him. “Where has Lady Courtenay gone? I was looking forward to speaking with her.”
“I believe her niece felt unwell,” he said vaguely. “She may take the young lady home, as any good chaperone would.”
Lady Brentwood’s lips pursed and her brows went up, but she accepted it.
Richard allowed himself to be towed around the room like a prized goat, introduced to stuffy lords and flirtatious ladies and even some young bucks, including the Brentwoods’ son, who clustered eagerly around him, demanding to know about rumors of diamonds and gold just lying on the ground in remote corners of India.
He answered every question, no matter how trivial or silly, as fulsomely as he could manage. After a while, Gerhard joined him, and Richard cajoled him into singing some of the chants they’d learned in Mongolia. Gerhard had a good voice and was a clever mimic, able to pick up the intonations much better than Richard. His friend gave him a quizzical look, but he obliged. By the end of the evening, they held the better part of the supper room in thrall.
“Goodness, Richard, I’ve never seen you make such a spectacle of yourself,” remarked Clemency when they finally left.
“It seemed appropriate,” he said lightly. Appropriate, and apt to distract anyone who might have noticed Evangeline’s hasty departure.
“If you wish me to sing again, you must also do so,” grumbled Gerhard.
“You have the better voice,” Richard told him.
“Oh, youdohave a marvelous voice,” Clemency added warmly, and Gerhard went pink and closed his mouth.
But after depositing Clemency at her home, Richard slumped against the cushions and cursed, long and fluently in three different languages.
“What happened?” Gerhard leaned forward. “It must be serious, to require singing.”
Richard sighed. “Evangeline’s niece may have been a trifle indiscreet.” Not even to Gerhard would he sayhowindiscreet.
His friend tilted his head. “That is why you were searching for her.”
He rubbed his hands over his face. God, they had been too open about that. But the seriousness of the situation had crept up on them slowly, until it was too late. “Yes.”
Gerhard nodded philosophically. “I hope the young lady was unharmed?”
He thought of the young woman standing in Burke’s embrace, her face flushed with pleasure. “No violence was done to her.”
