A Practical Arrangement (12 page)

“
I will wait until later in the afternoon.”

The distraction of his promise tempered her excitement. The task ahead provided a pleasant diversion, yet not enough to erase the knowledge that Thomas Masterson would be waiting upon her return.

* * *

By early afternoon light snow sifted down from the heavens, silently draping its crystalline glitter over the drab landscape. Beautiful to behold, it brought with it the unwelcome, bitter cold. Albert, Thomas and Jonathan met the ladies as the carriage returned, Thomas carrying Evangeline at once inside to warm her before the hearth.

“
We've been anxious for your safe return. The snow will be heavy.” He took her hand between his, rubbing her red, frozen digits. “Nature seems intent on keeping us near one another,” he whispered devilishly.

Evangeline stared in affectation. She needed space. Time to think. She could not sort her conflicting feelings with him so near. Why must fate torture her so?

“
But tomorrow is Christmas! Your family...”

“
They will understand, Miss Grey.” Green and gray swirled in his eyes, dark and turbulent, alive with hidden intent.

Evangeline could only stare into the ever-changing depths, helpless to escape. Her stomach lurched, confusion unfettered in her thoughts. What did he expect from her? “Mr. Masterson,” she managed to speak at last, words tumbling from her unintended as her most private thoughts betrayed her, “I...I do not understand. You...any of this.”

Amusement flickered in his gaze, not maliciously. At least she did not believe so. But in all honesty, she'd no idea what to make of him. Ever malleable was his demeanor – just as his eyes.

“
I know,” he answered.

It was no answer at all.

“
My prim and proper Miss Grey. What do you wish it to mean?”

She clutched the arms of her chair.

Oh! He infuriated her!

Surely he meant to embarrass her with such a question. “I've no expectations, Mr. Masterson,” she stated, her anger providing strength of voice which pleased her immensely.

“
Is that so?” he questioned, arrogance and disbelief tainting his words. “I believe, Miss Grey, you do have expectations, and I shall delight in discovering each and every one.”

What?

Evangeline flushed furiously, her shoulders squaring smartly in attempt to defy the possible truth. “You may believe and do what you like, Mr. Masterson.” His low, husky chuckle vibrated through her being, skimming each nerve as it traveled her.

“
You so easily offer me carte blanche? Oh, Miss Grey, I promise to do exactly that.” Raising her hand again, he brushed his lips across her knuckles, and left her.

The sounds of him speaking with her father drifted to her above the fire's crackling hiss. Why did she speak so? She ought to know by now how he manipulated her words to suit his own wants. It was no use, for she did not possess the cunning to foresee the next direction he would take. Melody arrived, breaking her reverie.

“
Would you care for a book, or perhaps your sewing?”

Would she ever! Anything to divert her attention.

“
A book would be nice. I've one on my bedroom side-table. Would you mind?” Asking others to wait on her bothered her so. Sitting in her chair, unable to get away and lose herself in the out of doors, added to her growing agitation. Surely she'd soon go mad!

“
Not at all! Would you rather read upstairs? I'll help you up if you'd like.”

“
Thank you, Melody. I think that will suit me.”

Her sister supported her arm, steady and strong as she made her way to the staircase.

“
Miss Grey, what are you doing?”

Why did he have to be underfoot? Would there be no rest for her until he left? And how long would her reprieve last - until he returned – until she'd be his wife?

Melody came to her rescue, a welcome event. “My sister would like to retire to her room.”

“
I'll take her up.” Thomas lifted her, his arms holding her tightly as he mounted the stairs.

Of all the nonsense!

“
I shall never heal with all this pampering!” Exasperation colored her outburst. “It will only prolong my time abed.”

Thomas grinned salaciously, murmuring, “Get used to it, sweetheart. I avow you shall be abed much more once you are mine.”

All color drained from her, the simple act of breathing difficult as panic threatened. Her body trembled with unconcealed apprehension, at once felt by Thomas. Thankfully, Melody excused herself under the ruse of finding Corinne downstairs. His eyes locked on hers in the hallway, expression softening as he regarded her intently.

“
Does that frighten you, Evangeline?” He remained unmoving, demanding an answer, yet his words were gentle, almost sorrowful.

“
Yes,” she whispered. “Very much so.”

“
Because you know I shall touch you?” he asked softly.

She nodded, eyes cast downward in a mixture of shame and fear. It was inappropriate to even discuss, but a part of her needed him to understand.

“
Look at me.”

Not a request, she complied, unable to deny him in her weakness.

“
I will touch you. Everywhere, Evangeline. But I swear to you; I'll never hurt you. You will come to enjoy – and even crave my touch. Do you understand?”

Again she nodded, agreeing with him even though understanding eluded her. He'd do with her as he wanted, that much was clear.

“
I see your confusion and feel your fear. Trust me.” He strode into the room and placed her upon the settee, grabbing a stool to prop her injured limb. “Have I lied to you thus far? Have I not kept my word?” he asked, timbre silky and soothing. He slid his hand atop the heavy material of her dress, caressing her calf.

Evangeline swore his body heat seeped straight through the layers of her dress. She inhaled sharply, nodding. “No. I mean yes. I mean...” Which question should she answer? Her mouth was so dry, no more words would come.

He chuckled. “I know what you mean, Evangeline. I will not break my word. Now rest.”

Her heart pounded long after he exited her room, relief and regret flooding her in equal measure.

“
Evangeline,” Melody knocked, peeking her head inside. “Corinne will bring water to soak your foot later.”

“
That will be fine,” she sighed.

“
Do you wish some company?” Melody offered.

“
I need some time alone, Melody. Please understand.” She meant to explain in more detail, but her sister hushed her with a knowing smile.

“
I do understand. More than you may imagine.” Making her retreat, Melody paused. “I hope you will talk to me. Trust me. You'll feel better about everything.”

“
You're the second person this afternoon to desire my trust,” she muttered.

“
What?” Melody turned back, unsure at what she'd heard.

“
Nothing. Nothing at all, Melody. We'll talk later.”

If not for her aching ankle, she'd rummage through the chest at the foot of her bed. Linens from her maternal grandmother, a tea set from her father's travels and other beautiful treasures sat neatly tucked inside, awaiting the day she'd place them lovingly on display in her own home. She sighed, a certain happiness overcoming her with the thought. Opening the brown leather bound book, Evangeline let the sketches and descriptions of various plants consume her attention, no thoughts of Mr. Masterson, nor of his touches, welcome during her self-imposed reprieve.

Opening her eyes, Evangeline yawned, stretching in sanguine contentment. Reality rushed to greet her, robbing her of the blissful sensation.

“
Enough of this,
” she chided inwardly. “
You're acting with the utmost folly.”

The sooner she resigned herself the better, for her rampant thoughts and doubts should not be coddled. Thinking to seek her sister, she stood, testing her steps carefully. To her satisfaction, she steadily, if stiffly, set one foot before the other without faltering. Once in the hallway, which seemed much longer in her current discomfort, she sought Melody's room, hopeful to find her sister within. Stairs may be pushing her new found ambulatory success a bit far.

Did she hear crying? Nearing her sister's door, she found the room empty. Again, soft sobs found her ears. The sounds emanated from Mr. Lane's rooms! It could not be Mr. Lane, for the sighs and gentle moans were womanly. Had one of the maids hurt herself? Been reprimanded? Testing the doorknob cautiously, she found it unlocked and eased the door open slowly. Surely she should offer comfort.

Evangeline stopped dead in her tracks, mute at the scene before her. Desperately, she begged her legs support her, flee with her, but the leaden limbs dully ignored her silent command. Not with tears or pain, but with rapture did her sister cry out gently, her nakedness encompassed beneath Mr. Lane! He moved over her, his hips thrusting against Melody in untamed rhythm as he roved her body with his mouth. He was naked! At last, her legs moved. Tearing her eyes away Evangeline slipped out, closing the door behind her before she exhaled. She steadied herself against the wall, her first few feeble steps spent fighting to contain the violent shudders claiming dominion over her entire being.

Dear God in heaven!

Melody would be ruined if any discovered her in such a state of... of – Evangeline could not assign a name to what she'd witnessed. The sounds reached a crescendo, then quieted into silence. Forcing herself to move quickly she reached her room and closed the door, eager to hide away before anyone spotted her. She'd not be capable of communicating at the moment. For indefinite minutes she sagged against the sturdy door, unable to forget what her eyes had moments before beheld. Words and images, both her mother's and her sister's, whirled in her mind, vying for supremacy. The act was violent, vigorous, multiplying her terror by the second, yet Melody had looked anything but terrified. She certainly hadn't sounded so, either. Neither had she been lying still as Mr. Lane plundered her body.

An hour or more passed, yet peace eluded Evangeline. Soft tapping sounded upon her door, and even those timid sounds sent her harpooning from her chair. A sense of naked exposure invaded, and she worried her lower lip in nervous anxiety, certain any who looked into her eyes would be privy to that private, awful act she'd witnessed. Guilt draped round her shoulders heavily. She'd never betray Melody, no matter how troubled she was over seeing her sister behave so...wantonly. Neither could she imagine enduring such beastly attentions.

“
Come in, please,” she invited, her pretended peace carrying nicely.

Quite the deceiver of late...

Mocking her own vile behavior satisfied her inner primness. For now.

“
Evangeline?” Melody called in, speaking as if nothing at all had occurred, as if she'd not, an hour hence, been open and lewd, writhing – writhing and naked! - beneath Mr. Lane. She was quite the deceiver as well!

Her anger left her then, her harsh accusation bitter in her thoughts. Melody was sweet and lovely. She must be hopelessly in love to welcome such wildness upon herself. Poor Melody! Her sister's actions banked resolve in Evangeline's heart.

Exactly why I shall never – never! - allow myself to fall in hopeless, foolish love with any man.

“
Yes, Melody?”

“
Would you like to come down to dinner? Father sent me to ask.”

“
Of course. I'm not on my death bed. I merely twisted an ankle.” She regretted the harsh tone at once.

“
Mr. Masterson will be up to help you.”

Ever sweet Melody was, even in the face of rudeness. Her rudeness. “Melody?”

“
Yes?”

“
Forgive me. I had no call to speak so unkindly.”

A pregnant pause left Evangeline to wonder if she'd truly injured Melody's sensitive feelings.

“
It is all right, Evangeline.”

Footsteps announced Mr. Masterson, who strode through the now open door. “Ready?”

In the low light of dusk she could not discern whether his eyes shone green or steely gray. His clipped greeting sent greater apprehension through her, and she jumped when he reached for her.

“
I'd like to walk,” she informed.

He studied her a moment. “If you'd like to try.” Offering his arm, Thomas walked slowly to gauge her steadiness. “Much better.”

Evangeline smiled prettily. “Yes, it is. If I had to sit still one more day, I...I may have...well, let me say I've sorely missed my afternoon walk.”

“
Miss Grey, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but two unpleasant things I must point out. First, you are nowhere near ready for a walk. Second – and this may relieve your frustration over the first – the snow would prevent a walk in any case.”

“
Oh! Christmas snow could never count as bad news, Mr. Masterson, I shall watch out the windows if the moonlight is bright.”

“
The sky is quite dark tonight.”

“
Perhaps tomorrow, then,” she laughed. “But it is Christmas Eve. Nothing can spoil that.”

They arrived at the top of the staircase, and she hesitated.