Part 39 (1/2)
”I see.” Susan shoved her spectacles up the bridge of her nose with the back of a hand. ”Ill-advised attempts at gift giving aside, what's to stop you from staying? Is it that a lack of a proposal rather implies he's hoping you'll stay on as his mistress?”
”No,” Evangeline answered slowly. ”It's not that. In fact, he somewhat...he almost proposed.”
”Almost?”
”He implied if he were a.s.sured of not hanging, he would would ask for my hand.” ask for my hand.”
”Oh, Evangeline!” Susan clapped her hands together excitedly. ”That's wonderful! Isn't it? Why don't you look happy? Is it the pot of dirt? Men are imbeciles. You must be very specific about what const.i.tutes a proper gift. Tell him no more dirt. Tell him you require jewelry for an engagement gift. Tell him pearls, or perhaps-”
”I don't know if I want to marry him,” Evangeline confessed.
Susan gaped at her. ”Why on earth not? You've been taken with him from the first. And even Edmund harped on Lioncroft's constant mooncalfing, remember? You yourself said Lioncroft would only marry if he wished to. He must love you. Wasn't that what you wanted? A love match?”
Evangeline frowned. Wasn't Wasn't that what she wanted? What was her problem? that what she wanted? What was her problem?
”And he didn't even kill Hetherington,” Susan continued blithely. ”So you needn't worry he's resumed any violent tendencies. Well, he did bruise Hetherington up a bit, and he thrashed Edmund once or twice, and he planted on your stepfather a few well-deserved facers...but absolutely no killing. That's good, isn't it?”
”I wouldn't say no no killing. It turns out,” Evangeline confessed softly, ”he's responsible for his parents' deaths after all.” killing. It turns out,” Evangeline confessed softly, ”he's responsible for his parents' deaths after all.”
Susan's brows lifted uncertainly. ”Er...That's exceptionally old news, Evangeline. He killed them over something trivial, if I recall correctly. I don't remember what...Pugilism, maybe? Or his marks at university?”
”Carriage racing,” Evangeline stammered. ”And he didn't do it on purpose. It was a horrible accident. Well, not an accident-accident, which I think is why my stomach won't lie still, but he didn't mean to hurt anyone.”
Susan blinked. ”I'll be honest. I heard what you just said, yet I have no idea if you're defending him or denouncing him. Which is it?”
”I don't know,” Evangeline groaned. ”What would you do?”
”Clearly, I'd meant to marry him regardless. I would've felt my decision even more validated had I known the tragedy was an accident. While I understand it's easier to believe in a past you know than a future you don't, the trouble with the past is it's unchangeable. Much as he might like to, Lioncroft can no more reverse his parents' deaths than I can go back in time to prevent myself from spreading malicious gossip. It happened. Either you love someone enough to forgive them their past mistakes, or you don't.”
Evangeline dropped her head in her hands. Heaven help her. Weren't those the exact words she'd used to coax Gavin into forgiving himself for the careless things he'd done as a young man?
”You're right.” She glanced up at Susan. ”I'm a ninny-hammer.”
”Well, yes. It's part of your charm. I can come to the wedding, though, right? Oh, let me help plan it! Lioncroft has enough money to make it the Society event of the Season. Oh, and since you haven't a mother to do so, I can be the one to tell you all about the wedding act.”
”The wedding act?”
”You know. Lovemaking. I'll tell you now if you want. Mother says it's not so bad because it's always dark so you can't see what he's doing anyway, and if you lay still enough, it'll be over quick as can be and you can get on with whatever you were doing, and if he doesn't jostle you about too much, you might even be able to compose shopping lists in your head while he-”
”Susan.”
”Yes?”
”Promise me something.”
”What?”
”If you think you might have the slightest chance of entering into a physical relations.h.i.+p with a man, for marriage or otherwise-”
”Why would I do it otherwise?”
”Listen to me. If you even have a dream dream about kissing, promise me you will write immediately for my advice.” about kissing, promise me you will write immediately for my advice.”
”You have advice?”
”More like a counterargument, yes.” Evangeline lifted the pot of dirt and rose to her feet. ”But right now, I have to find Gavin before he leaves. I owe him an apology...and to let him know he owns my heart.”
Before the opportunity to set things right was lost.
The brisk October wind rifled Gavin's hair, chapped his dry cheeks, destroyed his cravat. He didn't care. He felt suddenly free. Freer than he'd ever been. He had his family again. As long as he didn't swing for Francine's crimes.
He caught sight of the Rutherfords up ahead and overtook their carriage within moments. When their wheels slowed to a stop, Gavin leapt from his horse, strode over, and yanked open the door.
Francine stared at him with barely-concealed horror.
”Lioncroft,” she managed, her hands twisting nervously in her skirt. ”What a surprise.”
He inclined his head coldly. ”Isn't it?”
Benedict regarded him with a furrowed brow. ”To what do we owe the pleasure?”
”I came to congratulate you,” Gavin said, ”For your future heir.”
Benedict frowned. ”I'm not the future heir anymore, Lioncroft. Now I'm the earl. Horrifying as it is, Edmund Edmund is the future heir.” is the future heir.”
”Actually, that's not the case at all,” Gavin bit out. ”Is it, Francine?”
She paled.
”Uh-oh.” Gavin flashed a ferocious smile. ”You haven't told him? He's going to notice, sooner or later.”
Benedict coughed into his napkin. ”What the h.e.l.l are you talking about, Lioncroft?”
Gavin swung inside the carriage and arranged himself atop the rear-facing seat. He lounged back against the squab, knees spread, arms crossed. ”Your wife killed Hetherington because she's pregnant with his child.”
Benedict froze.
”He's a liar!” Francine clutched her husband's sleeve, hands shaking.
”She's been lifting her skirts to him for years, it seems, and it's finally paid off,” Gavin continued relentlessly. ”She might very well have the next little Lord Hetherington in her belly.”
Francine closed her eyes and dropped her hands from her husband's sleeve.
Benedict stared at his wife, face ashen. ”You promised me it was over. When that scandal sheet came out, you promised me it was an exaggeration, a one-time relapse blown out of proportion.”
Francine glanced away, lips tight.