Louis licked her hand frantically, dancing back and forth.
“Why don’t you take him out?” urged Solly. “Fresh air would do you both good.”
Evangeline stood and glanced listlessly at the window. It was a fair day, but she had no desire to feel the sun on her face. “Perhaps.”
Solly nodded. “I will bring tea to the garden. And a biscuit for you, Your Majesty,” she added to Louis, who had perked up at the wordgarden. He barked and ran from the room. “Do it for him,” she said gently to Evangeline. “If you will not go out for yourself.”
She sighed. “Very well.”
She chose a bench facing the house, not her favorite set by the French doors, where Richard had once walked her home in the rain and agreed to her terms for their affair. She had all but told him then that one day she would end it and send him away. She had forced him to promise that he would accept it, and now he had kept his word and gone. Her throat felt tight and she determinedly faced the other way, trying not to think of those giddy days when they couldn’t get enough of each other, whenshe had suspected, deep in her heart, that she’d found something rare and precious at last.
Solly came out with a tea tray and set it down. “You have a caller. Shall I show her out here?”
“No,” said Evangeline. She had avoided Fanny since returning to Chelsea, and wasn’t about to stop now. Three times Fanny had sent a note, and three times Evangeline had sent it back unopened.
“It is Lady Burke,” said Solly quietly.
Evangeline froze, then lurched to her feet. “Is she?—?”
“She looks perfectly well, and she is alone.” Solly waited, brows arched.
Heart in her throat, Evangeline stepped past her and started toward the house, her steps growing faster until she was almost running, Louis at her heels.
Joan was standing in the drawing room when Evangeline burst in. “Joan,” she said, and then could say no more.
“Aunt Evangeline!” Her face glowing, Joan turned toward her. She looked very elegant, in a rose pelisse that flattered her complexion. “What a lovely home you have! I’ve always wanted to see it.” She bit her lip. “I hope it’s not too presumptuous of me to call without asking?”
Evangeline shook her head. “No,” she managed to get out. “Of course not.” She hesitated. “Won’t you sit down?”
Joan took Richard’s usual chair. Evangeline’s nerves twinged as she perched gingerly on the sofa. “Are you well?” she asked cautiously.
Her niece blushed. “Yes. Very well. Exceedingly well, if I’m to be honest. I—I hoped to see you at my wedding.”
She hadn’t been invited, and had known better than to ask. “It didn’t seem proper,” she said with an attempt at a smile.
Joan looked dismayed. “I feared as much,” she said to herself, then moved to the edge of her chair. “Now that I ammarried, I can go where I want and visit whom I like, and tell you anything I please, no matter what my parents think. And I want to tell you, Aunt, that I am very grateful for all your help. I know I behaved badly and caused you grief, and for that I am terribly sorry.”
She held up one hand. “I was supposed to keep you safe, and instead you were caught up in a scandal. I should never have allowed that to happen. I am at fault.”
Joan shook her head impatiently. “No, Aunt. It was my choice that night to go off with Tristan. I—I knew it was wrong, and could cause trouble, and I did it anyway.”
“No, dear,” said Evangeline with a despairing laugh. “You couldn’t have known what he meant to—to entice you into doing?—”
Joan’s face went blank, then fiery red. “Oh,” she said in a higher-pitched voice. “Oh, you—you mean—? Oh, but, Aunt Evangeline, Ididknow—” She stopped suddenly, with a guilty glance at the door. “There’s a marvelous little book called50 Ways to Sin,have you heard of it?” she whispered in a rush, her eyes shining with excitement. “It’s all the rage with ladies of the ton, and it is far more educational than anything in Ackermann’s! Oh my goodness, and I didn’t think it could all betrue, but now I rather think it might be!”
Evangeline’s brows shot up. She’d heard of that naughty little book, but how hadJoan,an innocent, proper young lady?—?
“Well! The important point is that I love Tristan, and I wanted him, and I am not sorry for anything we did,” Joan went on in a brisker tone, though her color was still high. “But I took advantage of your trust, and I must apologize to you for that. It was thoughtless and deceitful.”
“Joan,” she whispered, guilt-stricken once more, but her niece held up a hand.
“You gave me a great gift.” Joan’s smile trembled. “You taught me to believe in myself and to know my own heart. You helped me to feel almost beautiful?—”
“Youarebeautiful!”
“—and you weren’t disapproving of Tristan. You were kind to him, and welcoming. He told me that he wished his own aunt had been half so kindly disposed toward him.” She paused, chewing her lower lip. “He grew up so unloved and unwanted. He’s not a scoundrel at heart, he just had no one he loved and trusted to inspire him. He appreciates your kindness to him and wishes me to express to you his deep regret that he also disappointed you, at the Brentwood ball.”
She shook her head. “None of it would have happened if I had not?—”
