Tomorrow's Treasure (36 page)

Evy felt a shiver of caution and set her guard against him. Rogan appeared to notice the change in her demeanor, as his smile deepened and seemed to challenge her. Could it be that in distancing herself from him, she actually interested him all the more? The answer was clear: Rogan's conceit would make him determined to break down anyone's resistance.

Evy bit back her annoyance. Apparently, by just being herself, she presented a different challenge than the other young ladies around them. And, much to her dismay, this had sparked interest in both brothers.

So this was what a hart felt when encircled by two hunters.

Old Miss Armitage's dire warnings echoed in Evy's mind, and she glanced in the woman's direction. Sure enough, Miss Armitage was watching them, shrewd interest gleaming in those pale eyes.

Rogan took another look at his brother, and his jaw tensed. Thankfully, Parnell did not appear to notice his brother's displeasure. Evy did not want a scene right there in the rectory hall.

She almost clapped with relief when she saw Lady Elosia coming toward them.

“Ah, there you are, Parnell, Rogan. Have you made the rounds? We cannot stay long, you know. Sir Lyle has received correspondence from Sir Julien, and he wishes to meet with you both in the library at four o'clock. Ah, Evy, and how is Grace? Any better?”

“I'm afraid not, Lady Elosia, but thank you for your concern. Dr. Tisdale will see her before supper.”

“Ah, yes, the dear woman. I'm glad she did not venture out in the rain. Such dreadful weather for June. Well, if there is anything we can do up at Rookswood, my dear, you send word up right away. Your aunt is such a hard worker. It is no wonder she's having difficulty recovering from last winter's chest cold. You tell her to drink herb tea.”

Evy thanked her, and Parnell bowed and took his leave. Evy waited for Rogan to follow suit, but he lingered.

“Mrs. Havering is ill again?”

She explained that Aunt Grace had been fighting a lung ailment since last fall.

Rogan's frown seemed sincere. “Maybe she ought to visit a physician in London. There are specialists in bronchitis.”

“I mentioned it to her, but I think you know something about my aunt. She would feel it a waste of time and expense to travel there and stay in a hotel.”

She was surprised by his genuine sympathy, but strangely, instead of bolstering her spirits it undid her defenses against him. And that was far more disturbing than she liked. She changed the subject, not wanting to let her rioting emotions show. She did not want his sympathy, not when it made her feel so vulnerable toward him.

“I believe Lady Elosia mentioned you are expected at Rookswood.” She sounded more disapproving than she felt.

His brows arched. “How like a teacher you sound.” He gestured at the tarts. “I shall try one for this evening. You can wrap it up? Anyway, I rode my horse down, so I don't need to return in the coach. And my father's always late. She said four, so that means more like half past five.”

She wrapped the tart while he put money into the container, and she noticed he put in more than Parnell. She handed the tart to him. “I must not keep you.” She took special care to avoid that dark gaze.

“You make me feel so appreciated.”

She would not be swayed by his teasing. “I am sure you are.”

A faint, sardonic smile showed. “But not by you.”

“I do not know why you say so.”

“It is obvious. You disapprove of me.”

She busied herself rearranging the remaining tarts. “That should not trouble you. My opinion is not important.”

“Then you do still disapprove of me?”

“I did not say so.”

“Your eyes say so quite clearly.”

“Then you must not try to read them.”

A quick heat filled her cheeks at her effrontery, but Rogan merely smiled. “They are interesting … and
very
readable.”

“You are mistaken—”

“Unusual color, I think … like amber. Or is it tawny? Almost the color of a lion I saw in a painting from South Africa.” He leaned toward her for a closer look, and Evy stepped back.

Oh, this cursed warmth in her cheeks! She searched for a way to distract him from his study of her eyes. “Truly, what does my opinion matter? You do not remind me of someone who worries about what people may think of you.”

“Depends on the person, of course.” His smile was almost her undoing. “Maybe I would appreciate your good opinion.”

The idea was so absurd to her that she laughed, easing the moment and breaking his spell. Since there were no other customers, she sat down on the stool and glanced about the hall, as though uninterested in him. But she was almost painfully aware of him leaning there, amused, watching her.

“Still looking for Derwent?” The smooth question was replete with meaning.

Her gaze came to his, and his dark brow lifted. He glanced about
the hall. “I think he is with the Tisdale girl. Interesting thought. Derwent and Alice.” His eyes came back to her. “They make a charming couple, don't you agree?”

She knew what he was trying to do, and she would not rise to the bait. “I have not thought about it one way or the other.”

“Maybe you should.”

She paused at that, and his smile returned.

“I mean that Derwent is obviously such a very good friend of yours. You should be interested in his … affairs.”

“I consider him a good friend, yes.”

“Only a friend?”

She ignored the question, and he went on. “Ah, well, you need not explain. You have so much in common, you and Derwent. Everyone says so.”

She tried not to let her irritation at this show. “Do they?”

“Don't you think so? You both were raised in the rectory. That should give you much to talk about.”

“Yes, I suppose that is true.”

He pursed his lips. “Derwent may one day wish to reconsider taking his father's position when the vicar retires. Especially if he had another offer, and of course, if the vicar approved the change in his career.”

What was Rogan getting at? “Derwent wasn't serious when he mentioned South Africa, you know.” She folded her hands in her lap, hoping to still their trembling. Rogan in such close proximity was far too disturbing for her peace of mind. “Derwent is almost obligated to enter the church. Vicar Brown would be heartbroken if his son became an adventurer instead of a parson.”

Rogan inclined his dark head. “True enough, I am sure. And there is nothing like being plagued with guilt for disappointing the expectations of family. Yet Derwent freely admits he does not feel worthy of that position.”

Evy's uneasiness grew, and she also wondered if Rogan might actually know something of the same burden … if he bore the weight of disappointing Sir Lyle. However, even his notion to mine for gold in South
Africa, which was a departure from the family interest in diamonds, had not been met with displeasure.

“Derwent will become curate.” She nodded to emphasize her certainty. “I don't believe he would shirk his responsibility.”

“You think he is really that dedicated, do you?” There flickered an inquisitiveness in his dark eyes. “How highly you ve elevated him above the rest of us adventurous scoundrels.”

She managed a smile. “I am impressed by the humble manner in which he deals with the difficult expectations placed upon him.”

“You mean, compared to us Chantrys, who are arrogant and utterly lacking in humility Well then, being a rectory girl, you should be qualified to teach me how to be humble.”

Such a suggestion sent her heart skipping, but Evy managed to keep her voice light and steady. “I am sure there is little I could teach you, Master Rogan, that you would accept.”

A warm smile lit his features. “Then we must find out.”

Evy wished the ground would open up and swallow her. Either that, or swallow him! Rogan's veiled suggestion that he was interested in her was utterly ridiculous, she knew that. There could never be anything to his intent beyond a light and frivolous flirtation. So why did the idea set her poor head spinning so?

“And since you are so impressed by Derwent”—he inclined his head—“is it possible that I know him better than you do?”

Now that was absurd indeed! “I hardly think so.”

“We shall see.”

Evy felt her gaze narrow. “What do you mean?”

He lifted a hand, every inch the royal dismissing a lesser being. “Perhaps he has confided in me.” His eyes glinted, and Evy was sure he was laughing at her. “After all, having taken advantage of our docile and trusting Derwent when we were boys, I may feel compelled to offer him advice and, shall we say … opportunity?”

Oh no! Poor Derwent!
He had always looked on Rogan with such admiration. If Rogan should somehow convince him to give up the rectory life to follow him out to South Africa—

“If you should make the mistake of luring him to South Africa, you shall be doing him, and others, an injustice.”

A veil seemed to fall over Rogan's expression. “I'm disappointed you would see it that way. May I assume that when you mention an injustice done to
others
, you speak of yourself?”

“I speak first of Vicar Brown.”

“And yourself second?”

Evy had had enough. She slid from the stool and planted her hands on her hips. “There has been no promise made between myself and Derwent, if that is what you are hinting at. My concern has nothing to do with
my
unwillingness to pursue a future in South Africa. It has everything to do with what is best for
Derwent.
”

His mouth thinned, and she saw clear disdain in his dark eyes. “Is it necessary, then, to protect him as though he were a child, with no wisdom or determination of his own?”

Words failed her at the cold accusation. Was that what she was doing? She remained silent, considering.

After a moment, he changed the subject. “You are returning to the music school soon?”

She pulled herself from her pondering and nodded. “Yes … in a few weeks.”

“Maybe I will see you in London.”

“I do not see how or why you should bother.”

A sardonic hint of smile touched his mouth at her candor. She hoped he did not believe she wanted to elicit some reason why he wanted to see her. She had not meant it that way, but he was quite capable, in his conceit, of thinking so.

“Ah well, I must be going or I'll be late for my father's meeting in the library. That would never do. Every letter from Sir Julien is a grand occasion. My uncle always has his way—even from across the Atlantic.”

“Perhaps the letter has to do with your brother's voyage to South Africa,” she said, trying not to sound too interested.

“Yes. And mine, no doubt. The family in Capetown have a sudden
and particular interest in us, which is curious”—a slight frown settled on his brow—“and a little worrisome.”

What could he mean by that? What
particular interest?
But Rogan did not elaborate, and she would not be so forward as to ask. Instead, she headed the conversation another direction. “Do you remember the time we were nearly caught by Sir Julien in Master Henry's rooms?”

She would have thought the memory would bring him a smile, but instead a certain thoughtful concern showed in his gaze, as though his mind traveled far away, perhaps to Sir Julien himself in Capetown.

“Yes, I remember. But he only caught
me
there. He has since made light of it, but somehow I do not think he really accepted my explanation.”

“Did he ever learn that I was with you?”

Rogan shrugged. “I never told him. I would have expected him to question you if he knew. Then, again, Sir Julien is rather odd. Sometimes I think he did know. By the way, have you heard from Lady Camilla since she was here?”

“No. For her sake I hope she has come to know I am not her husband's mystery child.”

Rogan didn't respond. He simply studied her features.

She met his gaze, wondering at the shift in his mood, and he smiled a little.

“Well, Miss Evy, it's been … interesting. We will talk again. Au revoir.” He turned and walked away.

She watched him leave through the front hall door. Why had he brought up Lady Camilla? And why did she get the distinct impression that Rogan did not quite trust his Uncle Julien?

As she turned back to the table of tarts, she could not help but shiver. Rogan … Sir Julien … Master Henry … Try as she might, she couldn't escape thinking about them. Nor could she dislodge the uneasy feeling that their family secrets were more than a touch sinister.

She could only be grateful they had nothing to do with her.

Evy's uncertainty over Aunt Grace took a swift upsurge during the next several weeks. It was late August, and Dr. Tisdale informed Evy that her aunt was suffering from a serious attack of bronchitis that might linger into the winter months ahead.