Although Evie thought it best to keep that particular fact to herself at the moment lest hedidopen the door and toss her out.
“I shall gladly discard the peppermint,” she said, “ifyou stop glaring at me and agree to indulge in pleasant conversation. What is your opinion of the weather today? I am glad to see that it has finally stopped raining.”
His jaw tightened. “This is not anegotiation, Miss Thorncroft. And I don’t give a damn about the weather.”
No, the only thing he cared about was hatingher. Even though she’d done nothing except befriend his sister, invite herself to his house party, and abscond with his carriage. Hardly anything of notable consequence.
Then there was the small matter of her mother having a secret affair with his father, but that wasn’therfault, was it? She hadn’t even been born. Unfortunately, if Weston’s persistent glower was any indication, he didn’t see it that way. And he clearly had no intention in indulging her request for amicable discourse.
Pity, as the weatherwaslovely.
Outside the carriage, at least.
Turning her head to the side, Evie discreetly swallowed her mint and cast her gaze to the passing scenery. She’d have plenty of time to antagonize Weston over the coming days. No need to poke the bear unnecessarily. Especially if her goal was to win the bear’s favor.
It really was the height of irony. There wasn’t a man alive in Somerville she could not have wrapped around her little finger if she but expelled the tiniest amount of effort. Including Evan Bridgeton, whose father was now considering a bid for the presidency after Grant ran for his second term.
What a wonderful matchthatwould have been! Evan’s political ambitions paired with her social ones. They could have taken Washington society by storm. Only her grandmother’s absurd rule that Joanna had to be the first of the three sisters to marry had prevented Evie from becoming the daughter-in-law of a senator. Well, that and the fact she’d nevertechnicallyreceived a proposal.
Joanna still did not have a husband. But as their grandmother wasn’t in England, and as she hadn’t specifically stated whether her rule extended beyond international waters, Evie did not feel obligated to adhere to it. Desperate times called for desperate measures, and shewasgoing to marry the Earl of Hawkridge.
He just didn’t know it yet.
Chapter Three
Evie hadn’t evenrealized she’d fallen asleep until a hard jolt startled her awake.
“What…?” Blinking the sleep from her eyes, she sat up and swiped a hand across her chin. Goodness. Had she beendrooling?Perish the thought. “What’s happened?”
“We’ve cracked an axle,” Weston replied tersely.
She sat up a little straighter. “That doesn’t sound good.”
“It isn’t.” He began to pull on his gloves as the carriage limped to the side of the road and rolled to an unceremonious halt. “Especially since we’re three miles from the nearest inn.”
“Threemiles?I–where are you going?” she demanded when he pushed open the door.
“To help the driver.” In a single lithe motion, Weston leapt from the carriage and landed in several inches of mud, its thick consistency most likely responsible for their cracked axle.
“Wait!” she called, scrambling across her seat. “You cannot just leave me here.”
After flicking a spot of wet dirt off his coat, he gave her a cool smile. “Oh, but I can.”
With that, he slammed the door in her face, leaving her to glare out the window at him as he made his way around the front of the cumbersome town coach to where the horses were nervously prancing in place.
On a huff of breath, Evie flopped back and crossed her arms. She knew Weston didn’t like her, but did he have to treat her as he would a child?
When they were dancing together at the Countess of Beresford’s ball he hadn’t treated her like a child. Before she told him her name, their banter had been flirtatiously playful. And the heat in his gaze had burned hot enough to scorch the entire room.
Part of her wished they could return to that moment in time when neither one of them had known who the other was. When there was nothing between them but raw, unapologetic attraction and the seductive whisper of lust. Oh, what might have been if they’d remained anonymous! Another dance, perhaps even a venture out into the moonlit gardens where the air was heavy with the scent of gardenias and temptation.
But instead of flowers and moonlight, she had a crippled carriage and mud.
Hardly the ingredients for a blossoming romance.
Biting down hard on the inside of her cheek, Evie eyed the door. She considered joining West outside, but the only traveling habit she had, a plain, long-sleeved beige jacket with matching skirt and modest bustle, was the one that she was wearing, and she didn’t want to dirty it. But neither did she want to remain inside a carriage that was growing warmer by the second. Maybe if she opened a window, the wait would become more bearable and she could hear what the earl and the driver were discussing. As it stood, their muffled voices provided no insight into how long they might find themselves stuck in the ditch.
She’d just begun to fidget with the latch holding the glass pane shut when the door was abruptly yanked outward and Weston poked his head in.
