He had grinned at her. A scoundrel’s smile, she remembered thinking. If only she had savored it more, as she’d yet to see it again.
In the present, Weston was…guarded. In both his actionsandhis reactions. But that night at the ball, before she’d told him her name, he’d been remarkably more relaxed. Charming, even. And perhaps…perhaps a tiny part of her had started falling even then.
“I never said I was a gentleman,” he had said.
Her eyes had sparkled with coquettish amusement. “That’s fine, as I never claimed to be a lady.”
Unfortunately, things had gone downhill from there, and had culminated in Weston telling her to sod off before he’d stormed away.
Such a charmer, that earl.
And now she couldn’t sleep but for thinking of him.
Evie rolled onto her stomach, then her side. She placed a pillow over her head. Under her head. Kicked the blankets off, then dragged them back on. At last, with a loud, annoyed huff of breath, she gave in to her Weston-induced insomnia and padded downstairs and into the kitchen in search of a warm glass of milk.
The house was still and silent, almost eerily so, causing her to cast an apprehensive glance over her shoulder as she retrieved some milk powder from the pantry and mixed it with water before pouring it in a kettle to heat in the stone hearth where a handful of logs glowed red and orange.
There was a stove, a massive, iron beast fueled by coal, but it had been shut down for the night and she dared not attempt to revive it. Thankfully, while a tad old fashioned, cooking in the fireplace was all but foolproof and as she poured her steaming milk into a mug, she silently thanked whatever servant had thought to bank the fire.
While Evie hadn’t enjoyed the mindless chatter and socialization over the past few days as much as she’d anticipated that she would, shedidlove having a bevy of maids and footmen at her beck and call. Why, she barely could set an empty teacup down before it was filled again! There was no cleaning for her to do. No laundry that needed washing, or food that had to be prepared. Courtesy of Hannah, she didn’t even have to style her own hair if she didn’t want to.
Being waited on hand and foot was a welcome respite from arguing with Joanna and Claire over whose turn it was to scrub the water closet.
It was a life she could easily become accustomed to…just not with Weston.
Sliding onto a stool, she stared pensively into her cup as she waited for the milk to cool. She should have been pleased that Weston was taking the effort to find her a husband. A wealthy, titled husband who would give her everything she’d ever wanted. While Weston married Lady Martha and received everythinghe’dever wanted.
It was the perfect happily-ever-after.
But then why didn’t she feel particularly happy?
A rustle of movement had her squinting at the doorway. While she’d brought an oil lamp from her room and the fireplace emanated a soft glow of light that staved off some of the shadows, it remained quite dark.
“Who is there?” she demanded. “If you’re a rat, I must warn you, I’ve a very shrill scream and…oh, it’s just you.”
“You sounded more excited about the rat,” Weston said dryly as he entered the kitchen. Unlike Evie, who wore a green silk wrapper over her high-necked cotton nightdress, he was in his clothes from dinner, although he’d since discarded both his jacket and cravat. “Do you mind if I…?” He gestured at the stool opposite hers.
“Go ahead. I couldn’t sleep, and hoped some warm milk might help.” Resting her elbows on the table, she picked up her cup with both hands and eyed him over the rim as he sat down. “What areyoudoing awake at such an hour?”
“Catching up on ledgers, mostly.”
“You don’t have an accountant for such things?”
“When I’m able to, I like to go through the books myself. The harvest will be coming in soon, and it’s important to have an accurate tally of last year’s crop yield to compare.”
She sipped her milk. “Is there nothing you don’t try to control?”
“No,” he replied simply. The edge of his mouth curled upward. “But I’ll be the first to admit that I’ve been less than successful with you in that regard.”
“Thorncroft women have always been difficult to manage.”
“That much is clear.” He folded his arms and leaned forward until they were only a few inches apart, their nearness made all the more intimate by the dim lighting. “Should I expect the same streak of stubbornness in Joanna?”
As Evie’s pulse fluttered in response to Weston’s close proximity, she deliberately cast her gaze to the side. “My sister is even worse.”
Weston snorted. “I find that hard to believe.”
“Claire is the best of us. The kindest, and the gentlest. I miss her very much.” Evie didn’t know why she was talking to him about her family. Only that it seemed natural to do so. As if this wasn’t the first time they’d met in the kitchen late at night to share anecdotes about themselves over warm milk, but the fiftieth.
