Baron: The Deception Part 8

"A maple forest sounds vastly romantic," Felicia said, took a sip of her sherry, and looked as if she'd like to spit it up.

"Only you would think so," the duke said.

Felicia said to Evangeline, "As you've possibly noticed, the duke enjoys looking at me, but he doesn't like me to talk. It drives him to the brandy bottle, at least that's what G.o.dmama tells me."

"Flutter your eyelashes and keep your tongue behind your teeth," the duke said easily. "That, my dear, will get you a husband quickly enough." He shook his head. "Poor fellow, I can just see him the morning after his wedding night. You'll doubtless be talking a mile a minute, telling him what he did right, going into great detail over what he did wrong, informing him what you want to have fetched up for breakfast."

"Oh, I don't know about that," Felicia said. "I always thought I'd be sound asleep the morning after my wedding night."

That brought instant and thick silence, until the duke said, "I don't suppose you also talk in your sleep?"

"I will have my husband tell you after I am married," she said, and grinned demurely at him, like a wicked little girl, knowing she'd bested him.

"I'm in charge here," Lady Pemberly said, "and look where things have headed, straight toward the nether regions and other sinful places. Madame, if you're close enough, box Felicia's ears. My child, if you say another so impertinent a thing, I will call off your come-out ball."

"I saw nothing wrong with what she said," the duke said. "One hopes, after all, that she doesn't marry a clod."

"Then it must be you, your grace," Felicia said, clasped her hands to her bosom, and heaved. "I've heard Mama say you were so expert with the ladies that you were thus a rake, but since you were a duke no one could call you that, except to your back."

"I'm going to be ill," the duke said. "I'm not a rake, Felicia. I'm a sober fellow, a solicitous papa, a gracious host. Look at the lot of you. You're still here, aren't you?"

"Yes, yes, my boy," Lady Pemberly said, "you are all those things. But you will refrain from encouraging her. It's all well and good that you're an outrageous, outspoken gentleman who just happens to be very invigorating to look it. Yes, my boy, even I, a mature lady, notice how very nicely you present yourself to the world, whether you're trying or not. Also, you've a bit more of a brain than this impertinent eighteen-year-old baggage whom I got stuck with as a G.o.ddaughter."

"G.o.dmama, I thought you worshiped me from the moment I appeared in the world. I was told that you begged and begged to be my G.o.dmother. That isn't true?"

Lady Pemberly rolled her green witch's eyes.

Lord Pettigrew said to Evangeline, "Don't mind them, Madame. It's been like that since I met the duke when we were boys, more years ago than I care to contemplate. Actually, they're all very fond of each other."

"Yes," she said slowly, taking a sip of her sherry, "I can see that."

Lord Pettigrew laughed. "Actually, I've known Felicia since she was born. I realized soon enough that she was indestructible. She enjoys being chewed upon. It keeps her sharp, she tells me. It also makes her the center of attention, you know, and that's a spot she likes to be in." "You don't like her, Lord Pettigrew?"

"Oh, no, you misunderstand me," he said, giving her a dazzling smile. "I actually plan to marry the little twit. I want her to have her Season first. Every girl deserves a Season before she becomes a wife. I'm thinking she will do quite well as a June bride." He frowned toward the fireplace. "I do wonder what she will say after our wedding night. I wonder if perhaps I should worry."

"I won't comment on that. Does Felicia yet know of the happiness that awaits her?"

"A bit of irony there? No, but she will soon enough. Now, I hope you're not overly fond of conversing over dinner. If you are, I fear that you are in for an exhausting evening." He paused a moment, then called out, "Felicia, I was just telling Madame here that John and I find ourselves reduced to sign language when we are in your company, for we can't get a word in edgewise."

"I don't believe you, Drew," Felicia said, and walked quickly back to him. She looked up at him, blue eyes intent and shining, like she knew him better than she knew anyone else in the world, and perhaps she did, Evangeline thought. She poked him in the chest. "I've never seen any of this before. What is this sign language? Show me?"

The duke was watching his longtime friend John Edgerton watching Evangeline. Like a hawk looking at a helpless field mouse. What was going on here? What had he been to her when she was only seventeen years old, just a young girl, barely a girl, many years away from being a woman? Or maybe it was a hawk looking at a female hawk. The duke didn't understand the look John Edgerton was giving her. But he knew enough to be riled.

"What the devil is wrong with you, my boy?" Lady Pemberly called out. "You look all down in the mouth, a bit of anger mixed with frustration. Ah, I know. You lost a wager. Hah! I'll just bet it was a wager, over a filly-the two-legged variety."

The duke laughed, there was no hope for it. He'd find out quickly enough what a role John Edgerton had played in Evangeline's life. He said to Lady Pemberly, "My dear ma'am, I sincerely doubt there is a man in the kingdom who would wager against me on such an occurrence." He sent a look toward Evangeline, who was standing by the fireplace looking down into the flames, shut away from the rest of them for a moment. "Or a woman."

Lord Pettigrew laughed at that. "He's bested you, ma'am. I wouldn't bet on that, would you, John?"

"I did hear a bit of talk a while back that the duke lost a lady he wanted to one of his friends-Phillip Mercerault. Is that right, Richard?"

"Yes," the duke said, "I did. No one likes to be deprived of something he believes he wants, but it was for the best."

Evangeline was aware of what he'd just said. She realized that she hadn't heard anyone else; just when he'd spoken, every word was clear to her. A lady turned him down? "No," she said aloud, her brow thoughtful, all her attention focused on him. "That's quite impossible. I don't believe that." She realized then what she'd said, laughed a bit shrilly, and added, "I fear you're beginning to sound quite conceited, your grace."

She believed that? He was inordinately pleased. "No, Evangeline. I said I did indeed lose her. It was you who insisted that was impossible."

She flapped her hands in the air, spilling her sherry, which she forgot she was holding, and said, "I'm very hungry. I wonder where dinner is?"

"Come, Richard," Lady Pemberly said, "you make yourself sound like your heart was dashed into the rocks. Nothing could be further from the truth. Only your pride was hurt, my boy. You know as well as I do that Sabrina Eversleigh did exactly as she was supposed to do. Phillip as well."

"I would think so," the duke said. He added to Evangeline. "The lady is an acquaintance who wedded a good friend of mine. Nothing more." He turned back to his great aunt. "As for you, my lady, your informants would serve Napoleon well. Thank G.o.d there's no more need since the b.a.s.t.a.r.d's incarcerated on his island. Just look at your sources of information. Madame de la Valette arrived only yesterday evening, and here you are, not twenty-four hours later, at Chesleigh for dinner."

Evangeline wasn't at all surprised. It was more than likely that John Edgerton was responsible for their being here, not Lady Pemberly. She looked toward the duke, wishing she could apologize to him. For what she'd done. For what she would do to him. For what she wasn't and would never be.

"I try to do my best," Lady Pemberly said, and smiled widely, showing several missing teeth in the back of her mouth. She rose, shaking out her stiff purple satin skirts; surely the purple was just what Mrs. Raleigh would appreciate. "I trust that Ba.s.sick has seen to laying four more settings. I, for one, am ready for my dinner."

She turned to bend an autocratic look at Evangeline. "The duke tells me that you wish to remain at Chesleigh as Edmund's nanny. I was expecting a faded, very bland girl with a tepid temperament and no pretense to beauty. You are not what I expected. At my age, the unexpected could result in my heart stopping, and that is something I wouldn't like at all." "Never would we want that," the duke said. "Now, as to Evangeline, she did arrive a rather sickly-looking mouse sort of lady. Just look at her now. Not even twenty-four hours in my company and she is blossoming, like a, er, daffodil." He rubbed his fingers over his jaw, clearly a pose. "Isn't that the yellow, rather stringy flower?"

"I wouldn't say that Madame is at all stringy," said Felicia. "On the contrary."

"I look to you for continued support, Felicia," Evangeline said.

Lady Pemberly actually snorted. "Support, you say? That's an uncertain commodity from Miss Loose Lips. I'll probably be ready for my grave before I find a husband for her, one, preferably, who is deaf. I only brought her, and not one of the available other charming young ladies with me this evening, so the duke wouldn't accuse me of sticking my nose into his business. However, my nose is already stuck. You are still unwed, Richard. Only one heir won't do. Pay attention now, my boy. Not another word will pa.s.s my lips about your black behavior over the past weeks. Your poor mama is at her wit's end trying to jolly you out of your mood."

The duke pulled the bell cord rather viciously, Evangeline thought. What black mood? She remembered then he hadn't been all that was charming when he'd come upon her in his library the night before. Had something happened?

She found out quickly enough when Lord Pettigrew said quietly, "I'm sorry, Richard. We still haven't caught the man who murdered Robbie Faraday. We know there is a spy in the ministry, but as to his ident.i.ty, there's still no clue. Who am I trying to fool? There are probably many more than just one spy. It's driving everyone frantic."

Evangeline said slowly, "But I don't understand, Lord Pettigrew. Napoleon isn't there to torment us anymore. He's incarcerated on Elba. Why are there still spies?"

She knew that John Edgerton was looking at her, his eyes faintly puzzled. Why? Because she was fishing in waters that could easily drown her? He was afraid she'd turn on him?

Drew Halsey, Lord Pettigrew, smiled at the very beautiful woman who was nearly his height. "Whenever there is more than one man, Madame, there is more than one idea. Once there are two ideas, both fiercely held, then there will be great disagreement. There are still those who want Napoleon returned to the throne of France. There is still a comprehensive spy network working diligently for his return."

"And one of these spies murdered a man that the duke knows?" "Yes, Robert Faraday was a good friend to us all." "You, Lord Pettigrew, you work for the government?"

"Yes, I do. So does John and so does the duke upon occasion."

She simply couldn't believe it. How could Houchard expect her to accomplish anything when the duke was so involved, and not simply a disinterested aristocrat? A friend of his had been murdered. Perhaps murdered by John Edgerton. Or even ordered by Houchard.

"Indeed," said John Edgerton. "We all do what we can, isn't that right, Evangeline?"

"Enough," the duke said. He hated thinking about Robbie, about his needless death. It gnarled his in-sides, made him so furious he wanted to yell.

"Let us hie ourselves to the dining room," the duke said.

Chapter 14.

"Come with me to the library for a brandy." It was late, after eleven o'clock. She'd heard the loud downstairs clock chime long ago. She didn't want to go with him. She wanted to crawl under the covers of her bed and never emerge. But she knew she couldn't let him see that anything was wrong. And so she nodded, smiling her acceptance as if she meant it. As she followed the duke, she remembered John Edgerton's words as they'd walked to the dining room for dinner: "I always knew you'd become only more beautiful. You know how much I wanted you." "I was seventeen years old." He'd shrugged. "Old enough. Women are always old enough. Then you turned away from me. You told your father that I was too old. I do believe the b.a.s.t.a.r.d agreed with you. I knew then that one day I would have him at my mercy." He paused a moment, running his knuckles lightly over her cheek. "And you as well, of course. Yes, and now it's happened. You will do exactly as I wish, Evangeline."

He was right. He'd gotten both of them, she thought. He'd had to stop when the duke had looked back at them, frowning. "Ah, I don't want to make him jealous. I'm pleased he already wants you. It should make things very simple if he does find out about you and your, ah, mission."

"Nothing would make anything simple. You murdered one of his friends, this Robert Faraday. Nothing would stop him, particularly a woman he wanted to bed, which isn't true in my case."

Once in the library, the duke walked to the sideboard. He poured each of them a gla.s.s of brandy. "It's rich and deep and sinful," he said, and clicked his gla.s.s to hers. He watched her over the rim of his gla.s.s.

"What do you think of my great-aunt Eudora and Felicia?"

"Lady Pemberly is very protective of you. Felicia, ah, one could never be bored in her company."

"And Lord Pettigrew?"

"He is charming. He plans to marry Felicia." "The devil you say." A dark eyebrow shot up. "He told you that?"

"Oh, yes. I a.s.sumed you already knew. He told me he would let her know of her good fortune in due time. He wants her to have a Season before they marry."

"Good G.o.d." He swigged down the rest his brandy, turned, and stared into the fireplace. "Good G.o.d," he said again. "The ways of a man's heart are incomprehensible."

"I think they'll suit admirably." "And do tell me what you think of John Edgerton." This was the only person he really cared about. All the others were just a prelude. She knew it deep down. There was no reason not to tell him the truth about him, at least a good deal. She raised her chin. "I don't like him."

"Why?"

"He wanted to marry me. My father wouldn't consider it. I was only seventeen years old. Sir John was too old, much too old, and my father told him as much. I was surprised to see him this evening. However, since he is your friend, I will be civil to him if I ever have to be in his company again."

The duke shrugged, setting down his brandy gla.s.s. He felt better, much better, but that was ridiculous. Just because John had known her, just because he'd stared at her b.r.e.a.s.t.s-no, she didn't like him. That was excellent.

He said, "Both John and Drew work for the government, each following in his respective father's ponderous footsteps." He paused a moment. "I know that you dislike Napoleon. But you know, there are always villains skulking about. Please don't worry. You're safe here. I'll see to it."

She could only stare at him, and slowly, slowly, she nodded.

"I'm tired," she said when the silence stretched too long. "It's been a very long day. Full of surprises."

"Yes," he said "My great-aunt coming with very little warning. She frets about me. She wanted to make certain you wouldn't murder Edmund in his bed. Trust me, if she hadn't been sure of you, she would have moved in without a by your leave, and probably slept at the foot of your bed to keep a better eye on you." "Yes, she is very fond of you." He walked slowly to her, stopped in front of her, and looked down on her face. "I'm glad you're here," he said quietly. Like Edgerton, he lightly caressed his knuckles along the line of her jaw. She didn't want to pull away from his fingers as she had from Edgerton's. "I'll take very good care of Edmund." "I know you will. If I'd felt otherwise, I would have tossed you into a ditch. Curious, isn't it? And you've been here only twenty-four hours."

"No, closer to thirty hours now. Actually I feel as though I've been here much longer. I'm very glad I came. I hope you don't mind."

That made him smile. "There are many things I mind. However, at this moment you're not one of them." Then his look became intent. She recognized the change in him immediately. To her surprise, she responded to it. Her hands came up to cover her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, she couldn't help it. "You're looking at me again." "It's impossible not to."

"No, I meant that you're looking at parts again."

"Impossible not to."

"I'm going to bed now."

He stepped back. He didn't want to, but he did. He wanted to brush his knuckles over her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. He closed his eyes a moment, nearly feeling the softness of her white flesh. "Good night, Evangeline."

Evangeline opened her eyes and stared into the darkness. She rubbed her hand over her damp forehead, pushed her hair away from her face. Another nightmare, nothing more, nothing less. But it had been so real. She could still hear Houchard's voice, dark and cold. "You're too innocent for your nineteen years, Mademoiselle. You will be careful that the duke doesn't toss up your skirts and take you without your even realizing what he is doing. You will be careful that your innocence doesn't endanger your common sense. Your dear papa's life depends on your clear head and your commitment to us." He'd lightly rubbed her earlobe between his fingers. She'd jerked away, and he'd laughed.

She rose and pulled on her wool dressing down. She pulled on her old slippers and headed downstairs. She didn't want to go back to sleep anytime soon. She was afraid she'd see more of Houchard. She'd see if the duke had any books that looked interesting for reading in the middle of the night. She raised her single candle high in front of her as she walked down the carpeted corridor to the staircase.

The vast house was quiet for the most part. There were a few creaks and groans that gave her a moment's pause, but nothing to scare her into gray hair. Lying in her bed, bound to that terrible dream of thinking about why she was really here at Chesleigh, was far more frightening. The huge clock at the top of the central staircase began to chime. One short, loud stroke. She'd believed it much later. She was walking down the stairs, candle high, when suddenly the great front doors flew open. She froze where she stood.

It was the duke. A slice of moonlight cast him into relief in the doorway. She watched him kick the doors closed with the heel of his boot, stride into the entrance hall, his step none too steady. She stepped from the shadows, her lone candle held tightly in her hand.

"Your grace?"

His head whipped up, and for a long moment he simply stared at her. He ran his hand through his disheveled hair, muttered an oath under his breath. "Evangeline? What the devil are you doing out of bed? Why are you standing here in the entrance hall?"

"I couldn't sleep. I had a nightmare. I was going to your library to get a book. I'm sorry to have startled you."

"I'll join you in the library," he said. He strode to her and took the candle from her hand. "You can tell me about this nightmare," he said over his shoulder.

She realized he was drunk, not staggering and clumsy, but still he'd drunk too much. She shook her head. Why had he left his own house to drink? Where had he gone? What bothered him so much? The death of his friend? "I'm coming," she called after him.

She followed him into the library and watched him jerk off his greatcoat and gloves and throw himself into a chair before the fireplace. There were only embers burning, deep and orange, not giving much heat. She came closer.

He was silent. She walked quietly to him and gently touched his shoulder.

He was a bit drunk, but he wasn't dead. He felt the heat of her hand. Slowly, he turned in his chair and closed his fingers over her wrist. "Why are you touching me?"

"You seem faraway, sad, perhaps. I don't want you to be unhappy."

"Ah." He pulled her wrist down and tightened her hand in his.

"Please don't break it, your grace. However will I control Edmund with just one hand?"

He looked at her hand held tightly in his. Then he dropped her hand. "Forgive me, Evangeline." He leaned his head back against the back of the chair and closed his eyes. "You know I'm drunk." "Yes. I wonder why. What troubles you?" He turned penetrating, dark eyes up to her face and said unexpectedly, "Do you often have nightmares?" "No, not really. It's just that the recent weeks have been rather trying to me. Why are you coming home so very late? Why did you leave here to drink?" "Mind your own affairs, Madame. I don't justify myself to anyone, least of all to a young widow who is here alone with me in my library and it's after midnight and she's wearing only her nightclothes. And she touches me."

She couldn't explain why she did it, she just did. She eased down onto her knees beside his chair and looked up into his dark-shadowed face. "My nightclothes are more modest than a nun's. Don't try to embarra.s.s me, although you do it very well. I'm sorry that you're unhappy. I'm just worried about you."

"I don't want or need another mother." His eyes narrowed. It wasn't just that she was wearing her nightclothes. Her hair was loose down her back, some of it falling over her shoulders.

He reached out and began to wrap hair around and around his hand. "I don't think it was very wise of you to come in here with me, Evangeline. You're not ignorant. You've been married. You know what men want with women." "You took my candle."

He kept wrapping her hair around his hand, slowly, ever so slowly. "I'll let you keep to that little lie, at least for the time being. So the pleasure of my company had nothing to do with it?"

She'd never known a man like him could exist. She was completely aware of his hand wrapping around her hair, pulling her close now, and then he leaned toward her. His fingertips traced the line of her jaw. He tugged the ma.s.s of hair wrapped about his fingers to bring her face even closer.

Evangeline fell utterly still, as if she'd been set here with this man, his hand in her hair, his fingertips lightly caressing her. She wouldn't have moved if the house was on fire. She just closed her eyes, waiting to see what he would do.