“Then why doesn’t she just tell her brother? Aldingbourne does not strike me as the sort of man to force his sister into anything, least of all an engagement. If it is not palatable to her, all she has to do is say so. I am certain her brother would have it called off immediately.”
He was absolutely right. She was ever so bad at lying.
“The truth is, that I suppose she did not really intend to run away to begin with.” That was certainly true. She cleared her throat. The best thing was to just tell him the truth before she dug herself deeper and deeper into a tangle of lies. “On the contrary, it could be the opposite. Instead of running away, she intended to seek you out to see what kind of man you are. And then to decide whether she wanted to call it off. Before the official announcement.”
Surprise flitted over his face. “That certainly sounds more like it,” he muttered to himself. Then, to her, “And do you know what her verdict is?”
She fiddled with the fringes of her shawl. “How should I know since she’s been prostrate in bed all this time, and you refused to admit me to her room?”
“Hm.” He tapped a finger against his glass, downed the contents and then set the glass aside. He leaned forward. “Tell me more about her personality.”
“Her personality?” Her mind was in a whirl. What on earth was it he wanted from her?
“Yes, and none of that meek and submissive nonsense.”
She flushed.
“What is her day like? What are her interests?”
Shooting and archery. “Embroidery.”
“Does she read?”
No. “Yes. Blair’s Sermons.”
He blinked. “Sermons?”
“Indeed. She is a bit of a moralist, Lady Evangeline is. All about morality, piety and the like. She rises very early, you see, to go to mass every morning, then to read the Sermons, and all before breaking the fast, too. Then there is some more praying, and embroidering, and some more reading until nuncheon. She doesn’t eat much, Lady Evie, mind you, merely a light repast of, of—” she waved a hand “—bread and soup. Then some sewing for the parish poor. And more Sermons. Until supper. Which consists of more?—”
“Bread and soup.” He nodded solemnly.
Evie folded her hands in her lap with a sigh. “Indeed. She is very frugal, you see, and does not believe in indulging oneself. It is quite a challenging life to be her companion. It demands much sacrifice, for she requires everyone,the entire household staff and surely later her husband, too, to do the same.”
There. She leaned back with satisfaction. If that did not turn him against Lady Evie, she had no idea what would.
He regarded her quietly for one moment. “It is not too different from military life.”
What?
He shrugged. “Bread and soup for weeks on end. A simple but frugal life.” He paused. “She would do very well as a soldier’s wife. For that is what I ultimately am, you know. A simple soldier. It is a life full of sacrifices.”
Evie said nothing.
She had expected scorn, or at the very least a slight wince. She had served him a wife who was a pious, joyless drudge, and he had looked at her invention and found it perfectly acceptable. More than acceptable. He had found it admirable.
That was not what she had planned for at all.
She fiddled with the fringe of her shawl and looked at him uneasily.
Did she imagine it or was there a devilish glint in his eyes?
“Weeelll.” She cleared her throat. “I wouldn’t know about that.” She cursed herself inwardly. She’d made a mistake. She should have set herself up as an expensive, demanding society damsel who required a steady flow of attention, silken dresses, shoes, and being escorted to parties. Daily.
Instead, she’d served him a fictional version of herself that he actually seemed to approve of, rather than putting him off her. She swallowed a groan.
“I see Lady Evie and I shall deal famously together.”
Not if she had anything to say about it.
