The Rebel Heir (23 page)

And my mother enjoys bettering herself in society
, Evangeline thought. “Mother is correct, of course,” she said a moment later. “Though I should in truth refrain from eating all the tea biscuits. I wouldn't want to deny his lordship his share. Anyway, I find I prefer ices. Tell me, my lord, do you have a favorite flavor of ice?” she asked, thinking of Ash and their shared table of sweets.

“Evangeline,” her mother warned. “I'm sure Lord Winfield is too busy to spend afternoons eating ice.”

“Then I consider myself fortunate that he found time to call on us today.”

“It's my pleasure to be here. Though it is true it's been too many years since I had ice to recall my preferred flavor.”

“Just as I thought,” her mother snapped with her eyes on Evangeline. “Gentlemen with titles as grand as Winfield's don't indulge in such frivolities.”

“That is unfortunate. I hope you find more time for leisure pursuits in the future, my lord. It's quite lovely to enjoy a dish of ice in the park.”

“I'll keep that in mind,” Winfield returned.

“Evangeline, it looks to be a fine day outside. Don't you enjoy days like this?” her mother asked, clearly steering the conversation.

Evangeline parted her lips to reply with a rehearsed line, but then she looked at her mother as she glared back over the rim of her tea cup. The woman was forcing this courtship forward regardless of Evangeline's clear misgivings on the subject. It was to be expected, but one thin thread in the knotted embroidery of her life demanded rebellion.

Her mother had starved Evangeline, controlled her words, forced her to train daily to be someone she was not, and threatened to send her away to Scotland to live with the aunt she'd almost killed. But above all else, her mother had ended the one night she'd had with Ash. Evangeline would never forgive her mother for ending what had only just begun. He would leave London, and she would never know what might have happened under that elm tree in the park. And for that, she refused to claim that the trees provided nice shade in the park. Silence—it was the only rebellion she dared, but she exercised it now in full force.

“My lady,” Winfield said to gain Evangeline's attention a long moment later. “If days seen out in the park please you, I would be honored if you would join me one afternoon soon for a ride—at the proper hour, of course.”

“She would like that very much,” her mother answered for her.

“Until then, I will keep every image of you with me as I leave here today.” He offered her a kind smile. “Every smile and turn about the ballroom floor is locked away in my mind for safekeeping.”

“How kind of you, Lord Winfield,” her mother crooned.

It was kind. And yet…those smiles hadn't been true smiles. Her only true happiness had been with Ash, and she'd left him standing alone in the center of a garden maze. She'd left him there before he could leave her. He'd become too close. He knew too much. Surely it would fall apart now. And so she'd walked away. She'd acted out of fear of losing him, but she'd spent too much of her life being afraid and refusing to live. She wanted to experience all that life had to offer. She wanted a table of ices to choose from and the freedom to eat from every dish. Perhaps Ash was already on the road out of town after their cross words yesterday, but his strength remained with her.

She smiled and stood from her chair. “If that is settled, will you excuse me? I am sorry to cut our tea short, but I must leave now.”

“Now?” Her mother drew back in shock. “His lordship came here to call on you.”

“It's quite all right,” Winfield said, rising. “I have business in town I must see to as well. I trust that I will see you at tonight's ball, my lady?”

“Of course.” She would be at every ball. She didn't want to miss a chance to see Ash again if he was still about, and if Lord Winfield was there as well, so be it.

She watched Winfield leave the room before setting her teacup on the table with a clatter of china. “I'm off as well, Mother. I'm going to visit my friend Roselyn Grey.” Evangeline didn't spare her mother a glance as she shook out the folds of her day dress. She didn't know how to find Ash to make amends, but she could begin taking the correct steps in her life by supporting her friend when her help was needed.

“She's steeped in scandal,” her mother hissed. “I forbid you to go to that home of madness. The things that must happen under that roof are unimaginable.”

Evangeline turned, facing down her jailer. “My friend needs me, and I will not disappoint her as I did my own sister.”

“Do
not
speak to me of your sister!” Her mother rose to her feet, looming over Evangeline like the monster she was.

“Very well,” she murmured. She wouldn't speak of her sister, but she also wouldn't turn her back on her friend when support was needed. She turned and walked away from her mother. If only doing so permanently was as easily accomplished as finding the perfect flavor of ice.

“Have you lost your capacity for clear thought?” St. James asked.

“Most assuredly, yes.” Ash sank back onto the carriage seat opposite his friend, who didn't seem to feel very friendly at the moment.

“You're aware of the familial relationship between your lady and Lord Rightworth, and yet you seek her out after she's left you alone in a garden only yesterday? Even if you were using her as part of—”

“She isn't my lady,” Ash grated out. The thought angered him, even though it should simplify his life. He should be glad she had walked away from him, yet he wasn't.

“Interesting.”

Ash glared at St. James as he folded his arms across his chest. “No, it isn't interesting in the least.”

“I fail to see how
this
”—St. James paused to indicate their chase across town—“will benefit your plans,
Lord Crosby
.”

“Neither do I,” Ash muttered to himself as he watched building after building slide past the window.

“Then why take such a risk?” St. James asked. His sharp eyes took in every detail of the situation. “Damn.”

“What? I can fix this, quite easily in fact. I'll sort things out with Evie. And her father has already agreed to invest heavily in Crosby Steam Works…”

“You love her. You went and fell for your enemy's daughter like the plot of some novel. You know they're called tragedies for a reason, don't you?”

Love? Ash uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, staring down his friend. “Slow your pace there, St. James. I do not
love
her. I don't go about handing my heart out while working.” Did he? No, what he felt for Evie was concern mixed with lust, nothing more. “Evangeline and I met a year ago, and she discovered my identity when I first arrived in town. I had to further a relationship with her to keep her quiet.”

“Did you?” St. James raised one dark brow. “How much further did you further?”

“Rather personal, don't you think, mate?”

“I do.” The carriage grew dark as they rounded a corner onto an unlit side street. St. James's voice had a rather ominous quality that Ash attributed to the night, but it went deeper than that. The man's specialty was secrets, after all.

St. James continued, “I also think the Spare Heirs are wrapped up in this business of yours. If she turns cold on you—which she appears to have already done—we're all in deep trouble.”

“I…” Ash began. “There have been a few instances of… We…”

“When a salesman can no longer speak in whole sentences, it points to a larger problem.”

“I'm aware,” Ash grumbled, sinking back into the seat once more.

“I should begin taking measures now to protect the Spares. It seems the society requires a great deal of protection these days.”

“No,” Ash snapped. “Don't get involved. Not yet.”

“Very well. You have two days to clean up this mess, or I will see it done without you.” He rapped on the roof of the carriage for Stapleton to stop. A moment later, St. James had vanished into the night.

“Love,” Ash muttered once he was alone. St. James's usually sharp mind had led him astray. Ash didn't love Evie—he couldn't. Love meant attachment; attachment meant staying; and staying wasn't possible. Especially not considering her surname.

But in spite of all of those sound reasons… Bollocks. He loved Evie.

He'd kept her close in the beginning out of necessity. But the need to keep seeing her had turned in quite a different direction some time ago. St. James was right—she now threatened everything Ash had put together over the last seven years. And yet, he risked it for her. He spent his days seeking out her company and his nights dreaming of her. Even now, he was rushing across the city in hope of finding her.

Blasted love. How had he allowed this travesty to happen?

He was Ash Claughbane, a gentleman meant for the road. The carriage rolled to a stop outside the ball, mocking his need to keep moving. He almost laughed, but as he reached for the door, he saw her. Gliding out into the quiet night alone, Evie had emerged from the ball before he'd even arrived. Her usually ornate hair was different tonight, as was her jeweled neck—or lack thereof. She wasn't wearing any jewelry aside from the small pearls in her ears. She looked…pleased, happy. This was the true Evie, the one that he loved. His hand tightened on the carriage door.

Would she be so pleased if she knew he was sitting in his carriage watching her? Grinning from ear to ear at the mere sight of her? She'd made it rather clear that if he was planning to leave, he should get on with it. It was selfish of him, but he wanted more time with her. He couldn't stay. One more night, however…

“Evie,” he called out before he could think better of it.

She turned and blinked into the darkness before a smile lit her face and she moved toward him. “I was hoping I might see you tonight.”

“I only just arrived.” He opened the carriage door and crouched in the doorway, waiting to move once he knew her direction. “Are you leaving?”

“I complained of a headache.” She grinned up at him in such a mischievous manner that he had no need to ask after her health.

“I may turn you into a swindler yet. May I offer you a ride home?”

She cast a glance to each side, clearly checking to make certain they were the only ones present. Taking a small step toward him that made his entire body go on alert, she looked up at him and lowered her voice, “What if I don't want to return straight home?”

“Then you should without a doubt come with me. I know of just the place.” He held his breath, not knowing if she would come with him. It wasn't proper; he knew that much to be true. But she was already outside the ball with an excuse in play. Yet she hesitated, looking to her maid several paces away. But when she looked back at him, a ray of hope shined in her eyes—one of pure rebellion. In the next second she smiled and gathered her skirts.

Turning back to her maid who stood a few paces away, Evangeline murmured a few quick directions. Ash watched as the woman disappeared around the corner of the building, clearly on her way to ensure Evie's headache was a believable excuse.

After he'd assisted Evie into the carriage while ensuring no one near the entrance to the ball was looking, he leaned out and called up directions to Stapleton. Dropping back into his seat, he noticed Evie had seated herself across from him. She'd agreed to come with him and yet she kept her distance.

“Do you know you have a pair of odd-looking dogs in the seal upon your door, Lord Crosby?”

“They're symbolic.”

“Of what, exactly?”

“The hurry I was in a while on the road to London.”

“They suit you.”

“Two ugly dogs suit me? I believe
you
are the one who needs to practice key skills if you believe that to be flattering.”

“Dogs tend to run free, turning wild and taking scraps from the neighbors if allowed to do so.”

“They also bite,” he countered.

“Bite? No. Your painted-on dogs look quite docile.”

“Do they?” He reached for her without warning, lifting her from the opposite seat and depositing her in his lap.

“Perhaps
docile
was the wrong word.”

“Why were you escaping the ball tonight?”

“You weren't in attendance,” she admitted.

“You went there to find me? When you left the garden yesterday, you were quite clear that you didn't want to see me.”

“Yet you called my name when you next saw me.”

“You know my opinion on following rules.”

“Then what is my excuse?” she asked.

“Poor judgment?”

A small sigh escaped her lips as she gazed into his eyes. “That goes without saying.”

“Then let's not say it.” He stretched his fingers into her hair, silky strands tickling the backs of his fingers. He wanted to touch every part of her, to study each in wonder as she lay before him. Pulling her close until their lips met in the flickering light of street lamps, he tried to tell her in that kiss everything he couldn't say aloud. He wanted to protect that fragile moment, even as his body hummed with tension and the slight weight of her across his thighs had him wanting to drive into her and make her his right there on the velvet-covered seat of his carriage. She must know how much he wanted her, since at the same moment her eyes met his with a combination of curiosity and need. He would not lose control of the situation. He would take things slow with her. Tonight he wanted to show her…

But in that instant, as if making a snap decision, Evie lifted the hands she'd kept folded in her lap and delved them into his hair. With her sweet lips pressed against his, he threw off any idea of what he might have shown her on the slow tour of what could be and deepened their kiss. Holding her exactly where he wanted her to be, he angled his lips over hers, tasting her. Her lips were soft and willing beneath his, and soon that languid desire spread into her limbs. He needed her, more of her.

He moved his hand up her waist to the outside of her breast, his thumb teasing her nipple into awareness through the layers of her clothing. She gasped against his lips, breaking their kiss to stare into his eyes. She barely breathed, and even her fingers ceased their desperate tugging in his hair. Was she struggling to keep her composure? She should know she didn't need to worry about such things with him. He looked deep into her eyes and palmed her breast, challenging her to let go. Her breaths grew shallow, but otherwise she didn't move.

As much as he didn't want to say the words that were a growing warning in his mind, he did. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No. I'm worried you will stop. I don't want it to end.” Her voice cracked as she spoke.

He let out a harsh laugh of relief and pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her. “Trust me when I say I will only stop when you tell me I must.”

“Truly?” she asked into his shoulder.

He shifted her in his lap so he could see her face. “Evie…” He almost said the words then.
I love you.
But the truth was a rather resistant thing at times, and now was one of them. Instead he kissed her with all the frustrated, desperate longing he possessed, his need for her growing instead of diminishing.

She grasped the hair on the back of his neck, dipping her fingers beneath his cravat to drag against his skin. He ripped the damn length of fabric from his neck and threw it aside in a heartbeat before returning his hands to her body. She trailed her perfect fingers down his neck, making him turn his head into her touch. But when she leaned forward to press her lips to his skin, as he'd done to her only a few days ago, it was the undoing of any control he still possessed.

He ran his hands up her sides, needing to feel more of her. He'd never hated clothing more than he did at this moment. Tugging at the fabric of her already low-cut gown, along with her stays and shift, he pulled her breasts free of the fabric. Beautiful. Even in the dark, her skin glowed in the glimpses of moonlight that moved across her body as the carriage rolled gently down the street. Her pert nipples were poised above the wrinkled mess of her gown, begging for his touch. Looking into her eyes, he touched her soft skin, roaming his hands over her. He kissed her again as he took her nipple between his knuckles and grazed the surface until her hands grabbed fistfuls of his shirt.

He tipped her back a fraction over his arm and lowered his lips to her collarbone. She became restless in his arms, squirming and torturing him in the process as she ground into him. Refusing to cut short his exploration of her body, he moved to her breasts on a trail of kisses. He loved the way her skin felt against his lips. He could kiss her forever. When he reached the already sensitive peaks of her breasts, she arched into him with a small moan. He dragged his teeth across her with playful bites before soothing those peaks with his tongue.

Evie sat up straight at this, the look in her eyes one of pure wanton danger. She splayed her hands on his chest, pushing his coat back from his shoulders as she moved. He wrestled out of the sleeves and let the coat fall around them on the bench seat.

He slid his hands up her spine, drawing her back into his embrace before trailing his hands down over her hips. Supporting her with one arm wrapped securely around her, he ran a hand down her leg. Tracing a line up the back of her knee and dragging her gown with him as he moved, he pulled her legs up onto the seat beside them, one hand on the bare flesh of her inner thigh.

“I don't know what to do,” she admitted.

Ash froze. When he looked up, he met her shy yet intent gaze. He was rushing into this just as he'd said he wouldn't do. “You don't have to do anything,” he assured her before forcing himself to ask, “Should I stop?”

“No,” she almost pleaded as she ran her fingers over his shoulders.

“You can do anything you want, Evie. I'll give you anything.” He meant his words beyond this night of pleasure. He would give her anything in this world if it made her smile.

“Then I want to do this,” she said, shifting to a new angle and flicking her tongue out to taste him, kissing him with an inexperienced fervor that drove him wild. She was pressed close to his body, her breasts dragging against the linen of his shirt while she breathed in small gasps. Clearly she enjoyed the sensation because she moved against him again. She was intoxicating, and he was drowning in her warmth. He had no need of air, only her.

He slid his hand up the inside of her thigh a little faster than he'd intended. Needing more of her, he took control of the kiss as he reached the apex of her legs. Grazing his knuckles over the soft core of her body, he explored her reactions to his touch. He wanted to run his hands over her entire body, memorizing her, learning her, claiming her.

He palmed her, not insisting on more just yet, only to feel her body's response to the intrusion of his fingers. Her breath caught even as she melted farther into his arms. She blinked her eyes open and met his gaze. There was something unreadable in her eyes, but he was certain desire mingled there with other unspoken emotions. A moment passed in which he didn't move, only existing on the slight shivers that ran through her body. When she finally relaxed into his touch, he released the breath he hadn't realized he was holding.