Twice the Temptation (19 page)

 
He wasn’t entirely certain how necessary his valet was, but by his actions he’d already made it fairly clear that he was up to something clandestine, as it was. “Just make yourselves scarce until I call for you. And be certain Mrs. Dooley has the sandwiches ready by eleven.”

 
“I will see to it.”

 
Winters pulled open the front door, and Connoll trotted down the shallow steps to the waiting phaeton. As Connoll settled into the high seat, Quilling released the team and stepped back, and he set off down the street. If he didn’t make it back with his “visitor” for Elektra, his servants would think him eccentric, but then again, he already had paintings strewn across half the house and no one had batted an eye.

 
The plan he contemplated could ruin Gilly, but if she’d become pregnant last night, then he’d already done his worst. And considering that he meant to marry her regardless, he had a difficult time seeing the downside to his plot. Gilly might have a different opinion, but he looked forward to hearing that, too.

 
The team of bays hitched to the phaeton wanted to run, and he couldn’t blame them for their impatience. Apparently he’d managed to sweep in ahead of Redmond for the day, but he wouldn’t put it past Lady Munroe to have the earl arrive at dawn with a pastor in tow. The viscountess could definitely be a problem, especially since he didn’t want to make a direct enemy of her. Not when he intended that they should be in-laws.

 
In-laws. A fortnight ago the idea that he would have met someone—crashed into her coach, actually—and then a week later decided they should marry would have sent him into spasms of laughter. He still couldn’t quite believe he’d known Gilly Munroe for only eight days. In fairy tales, or inRomeo and Juliet , perhaps, eyes met across crowded rooms and people fell for one another at first sight. He’d heard of such things in the actual world, but he’d never believed the accounts.

 
Now he seemed to be one of those few who could make such claims. The idea of marrying Evangeline
didn’t even frighten him—it excited him, but he’d never been in any situation where he felt as sure of himself as he did now with her.

 
Unfortunately, a few questions did remain, mainly about her feelings regarding him. And nearly as importantly, whether she would follow her own path, or the one her mother had set for her apparently from birth.

 
He turned up the semicircular drive of Munroe House and whistled for a groom. A moment later a liveried servant came running around from the stable yard to take the team while Connoll hopped to the ground and walked up to the front door.

 
“Good morning, my lord,” the butler said, pulling the door open as he reached it.

 
“Good morning. Is Miss Munroe available?” he asked, doffing his beaver hat and gloves but declining to remove his greatcoat. He didn’t intend to be there for that long.

 
“If you’ll wait in the morning room, I shall inquire.”

 
With a nod Connoll walked into the nearest room, then paused. “My lady,” he said, offering a shallow bow and inwardly cringing at the sight of the female seated on the couch before the fireplace.

 
“Lord Rawley. Come sit with me.” Lady Munroe indicated the space beside her on the couch.

 
Bloody hell. “With pleasure, my lady,” he said aloud, sitting.

 
“I have some questions for you, my lord,” she continued, twisting a little to face him.

 
Questions that in a more traditional household, the patriarch of the family would more than likely be asking—had asked, actually. But Connoll doubted that Lord and Lady Munroe shared information. “I am at your service.”

 
“Your parents,” she began without preamble. “What kind of marriage did they have?”

 
With the ease of long practice, Connoll hid his scowl. “My parents are both deceased. Ask me about me.”

 
“I find that the parents influence the child. I would like to know about them.”

 
He couldn’t argue with her statement, little as he liked the discussion. “My parents had a very close marriage. So much so that when my father died of influenza, my mother followed him for no apparent physical reason a month later.”

 
“Hm. The morning Evangeline met you, she described you as a drunkard. I will not have my daughter courted by a drunkard.”

 
“I beg your pardon, my lady, but Gilly and I have had this discussion, and she is satisfied with my answers. I won’t be interrogated for your amusement.”

 
The viscountess gave a stiff nod. “Very well. I will only make a statement, then. I don’t believe you and my daughter will suit, and I ask that you cease calling on her.”

 
So much for being polite. “I will cease calling on Gilly if and whenshe asks me to do so.”

 
“How dare you d—”

 
“Good morning,” Evangeline said, as she swished into the room. From her fixed smile she’d heard at least part of the discussion, and he wondered how far she would go in defying her mother, or if she’d travel in that direction at all.

 
Connoll stood, taking her hand and bringing it to his lips. Just looking at her sent the blood rushing beneath his skin. “Good morning,” he returned, holding himself back when he wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her senseless. “Shall we go?”

 
“Yes.” She glanced at her mother. “I’ll be home in a few hours, Mama.”

 
“Where is your chaperone?” the viscountess demanded. “Doretta!”

 
“I have my phaeton, my lady,” Connoll interjected. “Room only for two.”

 
“Scandalous.”

 
“Nonsense, Mama,” Gilly cut in, smiling harder. “We wouldn’t be able to get out of the carriage without the team running off. You know I may ride in a phaeton without a companion.”

 
Lady Munroe sniffed. “Do as you will, then. But remember, you are to meet someone here at two o’clock. Do not be late.”

 
“Yes, Mama.”

 
Outside, Connoll handed Evangeline up onto the phaeton’s high seat while the Munroe groom continued to hold the fidgeting team. Taking the reins as soon as he climbed up the far side of the carriage, without a backward glance, Connoll headed them off down the street.

 
“I still haven’t decided anything yet, you know,” she said abruptly, her gaze on the houses they passed.

 
She’d decided something, if she hadn’t dismissed him out of hand, but he refrained from commenting on that. “I know you haven’t. And I also know that the someone you’re meeting today at two o’clock is the Earl of Redmond, and that he means to propose to you.”

 
“And how do you know all of that?”

 
“Your father told me, last night.”

 
She sent him a glance. “My father told you? You mean you wheedled it out of him.”

 
Trying to put the annoyance of the chit’s mother out of his mind, Connoll gave a short smile. “He was actually quite forthcoming with the information. I imagine
he doesn’t look forward to welcoming into the household a son-in-law who’s two years his senior.”

 
“Humph.” She looked back at the street and frowned. “Shouldn’t you have turned there?”

 
“Hyde Park’s in that direction.”

 
“I know. That’s what—”

 
“We’re not going to Hyde Park.”

 
“We’re not? Then where are we going? This isn’t another of your kidnapping attempts, is it? Because it doesn’t seem any more put together than the last one.”

 
She didn’t sound the least bit upset. The grin pulled at Connoll’s mouth again. “I’m not kidnapping you now, and I didn’t kidnap you last night. I arranged for us to have an intimate interlude. One which I don’t recall you objecting to.”

 
Her cheeks flushed in a way that made him want to run his fingers across them. “I daresay our…intimate interlude was quite pleasant.”

 
“Then you wouldn’t mind repeating the experi—”

 
With a resounding crack the phaeton pitched sideways and forward. Connoll reflexively grabbed Gilly, bracing his feet and hauling on the reins with his free hand. The left front of the carriage dug into the ground, nearly dumping them forward over the horses. With another lurch they came to a grinding, sliding stop.

 
“Are you injured?” he barked, twisting to look her in the face.

 
“No,” Gilly said breathlessly, one hand clutching his arm and the other, the back of the seat. “Goodness.”

 
A crowd immediately began forming, loud with advice but completely unhelpful. The team, already frightened, pulled harder on him and skidded the phaeton another foot sideways. “Climb across me and step down,” he instructed, levering her across his lap. “Can you do that?”

 
“Of course.” Using his thigh and lapel as handholds, she scrambled over him and hopped shakily to the ground.

 
Once she was clear of the carriage, he wrapped the lurching reins harder around his hand. Keeping a steady pull on them, he angled sideways and jumped down. “Woah, lads,” he said soothingly, talking in his most calming voice as he worked his way up to the head of the nearest of the pair. “Good boy, Paris. That’s a lad, Benvolio. Steady there.”

 
Hauling on the leads, he had them drag the phaeton out of the middle of the road. The front axle lay cracked in two beneath it.Bloody hell . “You there,” he snapped at a stout-looking man standing to one side. “Hold the team while I unhitch them.”

 
The fellow tugged on his hat brim and came forward. “Aye, m’lord.”

 
Relinquishing the team, Connoll strode back and began undoing buckles. Someone else had joined him on the far side of Paris, and he looked up. With a quick smile Gilly met his gaze, then went back to work freeing the restless bay.

 
His heart thudded. In itself, stepping in to aid him might have been both logical and incidental, but for a woman who claimed to view the men in her life as little better than servants, he considered it extremely significant. Of course, he had already been working toward bedding her again, so he might have some tendency to overread her actions—but he didn’t think he was doing that. She was changing, and so was he.

 
Before he’d met Gilly he’d never considered that the relationships between men and women could be or should be other than what they were. All he’d known was that he’d never met a woman who could cause him
more than a night of drunken self-pity, and he’d never wanted anything more. Until Evangeline.

 
The horses freed, he took back the leads and faced Gilly again. “We’re two streets from my house,” he said, digging in his pocket for a shilling to pay the man for his assistance. “Care to walk with…” His searching fingers curled around something large, hard, and rimmed with smaller protrusions.

 
Lifting his hand halfway out of his pocket, he looked down. The diamond.The damned diamond .

 
“Connoll?” Gilly queried, looking at him curiously.

 
He shook himself, releasing the jewel and finding a coin. Once he handed it over, he returned his attention to Gilly. “Shall we?”