Part 19 (1/2)

”Don't be a twit. You're under my protection. Naturally, I'll take you and my son back to Chesleigh.”

She looked as though she'd argue, then shook her head. ”Thank you,” she said again, turned on her heel, and went into her bedchamber. She closed the door quietly behind her.

He stood there, staring at that d.a.m.ned door. She was on the other side. All he had to do was open that door and go to her. He knew if he did, he would make love to her, probably make love with her until they were both unconscious. His hand was on the doork.n.o.b. Then he drew it back.

He would see her in the morning. He planned to see her every day for the rest of their lives. But first, he knew, he had to find out what was holding her back from him. What was wrong? He shrugged. He would find out everything he wanted to know about her. The problem was probably something niggling and insignificant, and he would fix it. Even if it was something more than insignificant, he would fix it. Wasn't his son always telling him that he was the strongest papa in the world, and the smartest?

He was whistling at he walked to his bedchamber.

”You don't have to return with us, your grace. Surely there are so many more interesting things for you to do here.”

He gave her a lazy grin. ”No, not this time. I've decided you need my guilding hand, Evangeline. I've decided that whenever I let you out of my sight, you flounder, nearly get yourself seduced, and then when I come to save you, you don't want to let me go.”

She hadn't slept well, had dreamed of Edgerton slipping into Edmund's bedchamber, a length of rope in his hands, or a stiletto, or just his hands, his fingers, that could squeeze the life out of a child. She wanted only to leave London.

”I won't rise to your bait,” she said. He let her be. She didn't look at all well.

Marianne Clothilde said as she held Edmund against her side, ”My son will take care of you two, Evangeline. Leave everything to him. You look tired, my dear. Just beg Edmund to let you sleep. Perhaps he'll be good enough to allow it.”

”If she promises to make the weather warm again, Grandmama, then I'll let her nap with me.”

”You are a sainted child,” Marianne Clothilde said, kissing her grandson. ”I imagine Evangeline will be able to deal with something as easy as England's weather.”

”That's what I thought,” Edmund said. Marianne Clothilde kissed him again. ”Thank you for your kindness, your grace,” Evangeline said. ”I hope I will see you again.”

”Oh, you shall. I fancy you and I will be seeing quite a lot of each other in the future. Now, dearest, may I speak to you for a few moments?”

When Evangeline had taken Edmund from the drawing room, Marianne Clothilde said, ”I wish you luck. There is something wrong here. Leaving with no warning, it makes no sense. I haven't a clue to what it may be. Do you?”

”Not as yet. If there is something bothering her, I shall wring it out of her.”

”I'm glad that Edmund is so very fond of her. I don't suppose you'd ever use your son as a lever, would you?”

Her handsome, very confident, sometimes arrogant son raised an eyebrow and said, ”d.a.m.nation, Mother, do you think I will have to stoop to such a level as that?”

”It's possible. Evangeline is a strong-willed young woman.”

He started to say that she would do what he told her to when he realized that if he said those words, his fond mother would likely laugh at him. Actually, he'd probably laugh at himself. ”I'd even use Bunyon if it would gain me,” he said. Marianne Clothilde said as she turned to look up at the portrait of the late duke, ”It's a shame that she was just a child when your father wanted you to marry. I fancy that things would have turned quite differently had she been Marissa's age.”

”Father liked to tell me that if I always looked to the future and didn't whine about the past, only corrected my past mistakes, then all would work out and I would be a better man.” The duke swept up his mother in his arms and hugged her tightly. ”I miss Father as do you. Do you know that he was right? Do you know I fancy that a widower and a widow are well matched?”

”I believe,” Marianne Clothilde said, ”that you and your father are two of the best men who have ever graced the earth. I loved him with all my heart. I don't expect Evangeline to feel any less about you.”

Chapter 32.

The duke's face was perfectly straight, his voice perfectly even as he said, ”... And then Bunyon swore to my father that the bully did indeed fall off the bridge. He also swore that I'd been standing at least ten feet away, that I couldn't have been responsible. To which my father said, 'I already know that my son's a devil, Bunyon. That he's also a magician comes as no surprise.'”

Evangeline laughed. ”Did the bully know how to swim?”

”As I recall, Teddy Lawson was torturing other children the very next day.” ”Whatever happened to him?” ”The last I heard, he was a vicar somewhere in the Cotswolds. Life is interesting, is it not?”

Her head went down. She drew stillness over her as if it were a s.h.i.+eld to protect her. He frowned at her bent head. ”You didn't answer me,” he said. ”Don't you agree that life is interesting? That life prepares sometimes very unusual dishes to put on your plate?”

”Yes,” she said, raising her head again, still not looking at him. ”Life is so unexpected that I sometimes want to die. No, I didn't mean that. How silly of me to say such a ridiculous thing.”

It was a start, the duke thought. They'd been back to Chesleigh for only two days. He already knew that she'd suffered pain in her short life; the sainted Andre had departed this life, and her father and mother had also died. But there was something else, and it was different. He felt immense frustration. Why had she wanted to come back to Chesleigh, and with so little warning?

He leaned his shoulder against the mantelpiece, a gla.s.s of brandy in his hand, and looked thoughtful a moment. He said abruptly, ”Perhaps you would like to come with me to Southampton. We could sail to the Isle of Wight. If it pleased you, we could remain at my house in Ventnor for several days. Edmund loves it there, as I already told you. It would be a rare treat for him.”

She felt fear, panic, and a terrible regret well up inside her. The instruction given to her by Conan DeWitt was that she meet one of Houchard's men the following evening at the cove and he would have further orders for her. ”No,” she said quickly. She saw the puzzlement on his face and added quickly. ”That is, I'm a dreadful sailor. I have a fear of boats, even big ones. I know it makes no sense, that it's stupid, really”-she fanned her hands in front of her-”I just can't help it.”

He'd finally caught her in what seemed to him to be an utterly meaningless lie. He said, ”Ah, a good swimmer, but afraid of the water.” ”No, just boats.”

”You know, Evangeline, you don't have to lie in order to remain here at Chesleigh. Or is it Chesleigh itself that holds you? No, that isn't it. As I recall, you couldn't wait to leave here just a very short time ago. And now you're back again. It doesn't make sense, does it? Perhaps you just don't want to be in my company. Are you thinking I'll try to seduce you? Rid yourself of such a notion. That is something altogether different; our coming together is something that is between you and me. I truly believe you'd enjoy Ventnor.”

A headache was building ferociously over her left eyebrow. ”I'm not worried about seduction. I'm not worried about anything. I want to stay at Chesleigh. I love it here. I don't want to leave.” ”Until you beg me to take you to London again?” ”I don't fancy I will want to go to London again.” ”Why the devil not?” She just shook her head, not looking at him, not saying anything at all. He pushed away from the mantelpiece, snapped down his gla.s.s, and strode over to her. He grabbed her arms and pulled her to her feet. He shook her. ”d.a.m.n you, we've been home now two days. You've done your best to avoid me. I wanted to go riding with you, and you pleaded the headache. You're skulking around like a d.a.m.ned shadow, that or a convict hiding from the magistrate. What the devil is wrong?” He eyed her with growing frustration. ”There's nothing at all wrong.” He let her go and began pacing. He said over his shoulder, ”I hate games, Evangeline. If you find my company distasteful to you, then all you have to do is say so. I won't order you to leave Chesleigh. I won't kick you into a ditch. If you don't want me, d.a.m.n you, just tell me. I a.s.sure you that I've never forced a woman in my life. By G.o.d, every time I've touched you, you've gone wild for me. We've gone wild for each other. Now, tell me, what's going on?” In the next instant he pulled her up tightly against him, his arms wrapped around her, so close to her that he could smell her scent, feel the steady beat of her heart against his.

”Ah, Evangeline,” he said. She looked up at him and saw all that he felt for her in his eyes, dark, dark eyes, the most beautiful eyes she'd ever seen in her life. Oh, no, she thought, oh, no. She became aware that he was studying her, a curious expression in his eyes.

”Evangeline?”

She hated the tenderness in his voice, hated what it meant because she wasn't worthy. She wasn't anything that was good or wholesome or honest.

”Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

She stared at him, bereft of words. She couldn't move. He wanted to marry her? That meant he cared for her, truly cared for her; it wasn't just that he wanted her body. No. She licked her tongue over her bottom lip. She felt him tighten. ”No,” she said very quietly, so unhappy, so despairing, that she wondered how she'd go on. ”I cannot. You don't mean that, surely you don't. You've just been thrown in my company too much. You like my b.r.e.a.s.t.s, that's all. That's it, isn't it?”

He brought his thumbs under her chin and pushed up her face. ”I wors.h.i.+p your b.r.e.a.s.t.s. They are divine b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Also, I just happen to adore your company. I don't want to spend time with any other woman, just you. I don't want to make love to any other woman, just you. I want you to marry me. I will be so faithful, you'll occasionally want to kick me off your hearth. And if you didn't hear me the first time, yes, I revere your b.r.e.a.s.t.s.”

She pulled away from him, and he let her go. It was her turn to pace. She wanted to run but knew she couldn't. He'd catch her. He already knew something was terribly wrong. She had to convince him that she wasn't anything he could possibly want. His wife? Oh, G.o.d, no.

”You're mocking me. You are amusing yourself at my expense,” she said at last. ”It isn't well done of you.”

”I suppose I did rush my fences a bit,” he said. ”And here I've always considered myself a bit of an expert on handling women. I wouldn't ever amuse myself to hurt you, Evangeline. Marriage is a serious business. I don't think I could jest about how I wish to spend my life.”

She felt a nearly overwhelming burst of utter joy, but almost immediately she saw Edmund, dead, his lifeless eyes staring up at her. She saw her father, and he was dead as well, his white hands folded over his chest, his eyes closed, two copper pennies covering them, just as her mother's eyes had been closed with copper pennies in her death. She couldn't bear it, she just couldn't. She wanted to shriek. Instead, she felt tears sting the back of her eyes, tears of rage at her helplessness.

There was no choice for her. She forced herself to turn away from him. She forced herself to say in a faraway voice, ”I thank you, your grace, but my answer to your gracious offer must be no. I don't wish to marry again. I don't wish to be at the whim of another man for the rest of my life. I'm sorry, truly, if I've distressed you-”

He laughed. ”I've never before heard that phrase, but I know it's one that's supposedly popular with young ladies who want to be polite as they turn down a suitor. Is this the first time you've had to use it?”

She had to find something else, anything. ”It's an English lady you must wed, your grace, not some half-French n.o.body without a dowry who has already been once married.”