“Not much longer at all.”
“Pity. With a little more time, I believe you and I could become great friends, Miss Russell.” His smile, confident and condescending, said much more.
He meant friends the way she and Gareth were friends. The earl had dishonorable intentions.
She almost laughed at the phrase. And at her shock. Who was she to be insulted? She had boldly abandoned her virtue already, and did not even feel guilty about it. Had he guessed that? Did he consider spinsters of a certain age fair game?
“Surely life in that village you described does not compare with the excitements of town during the Season,” he said. “Pray consider staying at least another week.”
“I would not want to wear out my welcome as a guest.”
“Ah. Yes, I see. A small problem, however, for which there is always a solution. I shall put my mind to it.” He bowed, kissed her hand, and walked away.
***
Whitmere stood near the musicians, eyeing Eva.
Gareth eyed Whitmere.
He walked over. The earl’s attention focused so completely that he did not notice Gareth until Gareth spoke.
“I told you I would thrash you, Whitmere. She is not for you.”
“Then who is she for? You? Go dance with her three times and declare yourself if that is how it is.”
Gareth looked at Eva. A young man to whom Gareth had introduced her sat by her side now, speaking earnestly. “She has plans that do not involve either one of us.”
“I, at least, would not object to plans. I would be happy to help her with them, in fact.”
There it was, of course. The real temptation that men like Whitmere presented. Money enough to relieve a woman, whether wife or mistress, of all duties so she could pursue her own interests. Eva had already figured that part out.
“You are wasting your time,” he said anyway. “She is gentry through and through. If you make an overture, it will insult her.Thatis why I will thrash you.”
Whitmere chuckled. “Then thrash away. Just tell me where and when. Because while the overture has not played, the strings have warmed up, and she did not appear insulted at all. Surprised and curious, but not insulted.”
He walked away, too pleased with himself. Gareth walked over to Eva. He wanted to scold her. Warn her. But surely she had seen Whitmere’s interest for what it was.
“Will you grant me the honor of a dance, Miss Russell?” he asked, interrupting the earnest young Mr. Pierpont. Pierpont took umbrage and frowned. Gareth stared him down. Eva took his hand, and he led her toward the musicians.
“That was a little rude,” she said.
“He was boring you. I did the chivalric thing.”
“How good of you to notice. That he was boring me, that is. Your arrival startled us both, however. I had almost forgotten you were here.”
“Whenever I looked for you, you were well occupied.”
She wore a false smile while they danced. When the music stopped, she hid a yawn behind her gloved hand. “I know these balls go on until morning at times, but I am ready to leave whenever you are.”
“Then we will go now, if you like.”
He was not sorry to depart. He escorted her to the reception hall, then went out to tell a servant to call for the coach. When he returned, he could not see Eva. Then he noticed a bit of her dress showing from behind a pedestal that held an antique statue.
Stepping to one side, he saw Eva deep in conversation with the Earl of Whitmere.
***
Eva looked up at the earl. The corner behind the statue was not entirely private. She doubted following him there would be thought scandalous.
