Twice the Temptation (23 page)

 
She could hardly avoid them, with the way her mother flung them about. “One impulsive act doesn’t necessarily make you an impulsive man.”

 
His mouth curved into that pulse-speeding smile of his. “I also kissed a lady once and then almost immediately decided that I wanted to—needed to—marry her.”

 
“Ah. And what was this lady’s name?”

 
“Evangeline Munroe.”

 
The answer certainly didn’t surprise her, but he was right that she would consider impulsiveness a fault. “What will happen when you next kiss a lady, then?” she asked slowly.

 
“I kissed several ladies previously, and never felt the least desire to marry any of them. And now that I’ve met you, I don’t feel the desire to kiss anyone else. Only you, Gilly.”

 
“You might add glibness to your list of faults.”

 
“That’s not a fault. It’s simply the ability to speak the truth in a hopefully pleasing manner.”

 
She sighed unsteadily, wishing they were alone so she
could kiss him. He’d said that he found her intelligent, witty, and forthright, and she didn’t have any reason to think him merely attempting to flatter her. She certainly hadn’t given him cause to pursue her unless he did admire those qualities.

 
Connoll’s hand brushed hers. “Have I set your mind at ease? Or do you wish to continue torturing me?”

 
“That’s one ofmy faults,” she returned with a smile. “And besides, I haven’t finished reading yet.”

 
“Torture it is, then.” He settled in closer to her. “I suggest you read more quickly, though, if I’m working to convince you, and you still wish to convince your mother.”

 
She swallowed. A week seemed such an arbitrary figure for convincing anyone of anything. What had she been thinking? That at a given hour her mother would suddenly begin seeing things through different eyes? She was just being a coward. If she wanted a marriage with Connoll, she would have to stand against the viscountess. Or she could turn him away, avoid an argument, and avoid finding a life that would be filled with anything resembling happiness and romance.

 
“Very well. ‘I have been known, on very rare occasions, to drink to excess,’” she continued reading. That was fairly self-explanatory, and with a swift glance into his beautiful eyes, she went on to the next item. “‘I like to eat tomatoes.’” Evangeline snorted.

 
“Caught you by surprise, did I?”

 
“That is enough,” her mother hissed, jabbing her again. “Trade seats with me if you can’t comport yourself properly in his presence.”

 
“I like him, Mama. And I like sitting beside him.”

 
The viscountess’s eyes narrowed. “We are leaving. I’m not feeling well.” She started to her feet.

 
Connoll abruptly leaned across Evangeline. “Leave if you’re feeling poorly,” he said quietly, gazing at the viscountess. “I will see that Gilly returns home safely.” His easy, amused expression was gone, replaced by a cold, hard look that said he generally got what he wanted. And he wantedher . Evangeline’s heart thudded.

 
“I’m not leaving without my daughter,” her mother retorted.

 
“Then stay with us.” He leaned closer, lowering his voice further. “I have been polite to this point, Lady Munroe, out of respect for your daughter. But do not make the mistake of thinking that because I am good-natured, I am also one of your mindless sheep. I will not acquiesce beyond all reason.”

 
For a long second they glared at one another, while Evangeline, stuck in between them, wanted to sink through the bottom of her chair and disappear. “Let’s be reasonable, shall we?” she finally uttered, deliberately sitting forward to break their line of sight.

 
“I need a breath of air,” the viscountess said, practically hurling her reticule onto Evangeline’s lap as she stood and made her way to the nearest door.

 
As Evangeline grabbed for the bag, the diamond spilled out like a shimmering, deadly snake. Moving with surprising speed, Connoll caught it before it could hit the floor. “Damn,” he muttered, curling his fingers around the thing. “Open the bag, Gilly.”

 
While Evangeline hurried to comply, a skinny form took the vacated seat beside her. “Miss Munroe,” Lord Dapney breathed, pulling her hand from the reticule to clasp it in both of his, “I must speak with you.”

 
Blast it all. “I’m listening to the music,” she offered, trying to free her hand from his clammy grip.

 
“But this is urgent,” he protested, ignoring the annoyed
looks they’d begun getting from the other guests seated around them.

 
On her other side, Connoll stirred. And he still held the diamond necklace, which troubled her immensely. That worry spoke very clearly to her—she didn’t want anything to harm what she’d begun to think she’d found with him. Seven days to reason with anyone else be damned. “What is it, then?” she asked, keeping her voice brisk and cool. The fewer people unsettled here tonight, the better.

 
“You’ve been avoiding me, Evangeline.”

 
“Of course I haven’t,” she lied. “I’ve been very busy, is all.”

 
“Busy being pursued by him, you mean,” Dapney retorted, his voice rising further. “I could accept Lord Redmond as a fellow suitor—the old fool is hardly competition. But Rawley—”

 
“I beg your pardon?” Lord Redmond grumbled from the far side of her father. “I have been assured by Lady Munroe that she favors my suit over yours, you young pup.”

 
“I am speaking to Miss Munroe,” Dapney shot back. “Say you’ll marry me, Evangeline. You know how I adore you. You’re—”

 
“You can’t propose,” the earl protested. “I’ve already done so.”

 
“Don’t listen to that old goat,” the viscount snapped. “And you certainly can’t believe anything that…that womanizing traitor says to you,” he continued, gesturing at Connoll.

 
On her other side, Connoll climbed to his feet. “A word outside with you, Dapney,” he said very quietly, his voice level and ice-cold.

 
“Gentlemen, please allow me to enjoy the recital,”
Evangeline muttered, yanking down on Connoll’s sleeve to pull him back into his chair. “I know what the wishes of all three of you are. I will make my own decision.”

 
Dapney leaned across her. “You should withdraw, Rawley. You’re late to the game, and you can have any woman you want. You’vehad half the women in Lon—”

 
Connoll hit him square in the jaw.

 
As the viscount reeled backward, falling across her father’s lap, Connoll pulled Evangeline to her feet. “You’d best get clear of this,” he muttered, his gaze on his opponent as Dapney climbed back to his feet.

 
“Give me the necklace,” she said instead of moving.

 
“Gilly, get out of the way.”

 
“Give me the blasted necklace before you ruin everything.” She held out her hand.

 
Dapney lunged at him, slamming his shoulder into hers as he attacked. Evangeline stumbled into Connoll’s chest. He grabbed her, keeping her from falling to the floor, just as the viscount’s fist impacted with his cheek.

 
They all went over in a pile of chairs and legs and flailing arms. A female seated somewhere behind them shrieked, and the Baxley girls scattered, leaving their instruments behind. Evangeline saw it all in a blur as she tried to squirm out from the sandwich of the marquis and the viscount.

 
Abruptly someone took hold of her arm and hauled her free and upright. She grabbed his arm to steady herself, turning to look up at her father. “You have to stop them,” she said breathlessly, horrified.

 
“That seems a bit risky, Gilly. Let’s get you out of here and leave the scandal to them.”

 
“But Connoll has my necklace, and now I’ll end up with Redmond, and I don’t want him,” she blurted.

 
“What?”

 
“The diamond. He has my bad-luck diamond. I put it in Mama’s purse and it fell out, and now Connoll has it, and Dapney’s going to ruin everything, and I’ll have to marry the only one left.”

 
“I see.” He looked from her to the struggling men for a heartbeat. “Move out of the way,” he instructed, and strode back into the melee.

 
“Miss Munroe,” Lord Redmond said, grasping her elbow, “allow me to escort you away from this inexcusable fracas.”

 
“No, thank you,” she returned, pulling free of his grip. “I believe Lord Dapney is having a seizure of some sort. I should be nearby to assist Lord Rawley and my father, if necessary.”

 
Whatever tale she attempted to spread, though, she realized that that was how it would happen—two suitors were disgraced, and Redmond would sweep into victory by default. Oh, that necklace. That stupid, stupid—

 
Connoll stumbled free as her father grabbed Dapney by the shoulders. “Take my daughter home at once, Rawley,” her father bellowed. “I’ll deal with this.”

 
With a nod, Connoll swept in between her and Redmond, taking her hand and placing it over his somewhat battered sleeve. “Do you wish to lose what teeth you have remaining?” he asked the earl.

 
Redmond stepped back. “You young blackguard,” he muttered, still backing.

 
“I thought not.” The marquis faced her. “Quickly,” he murmured, heading them toward the door.

 
“But the diamond,” she whispered, hitching up one side of her skirt with her free hand as they made their way outside through the boisterous crowd. They’d probably
never attended such an exciting recital. “We’ll never make it to Munroe House in one piece.” Or at least not together.

 
“I think we may,” he returned, signaling his driver. “Your father has the Nightshade.”

 
“What?” She stopped, pulling against him. “You put it—”

 
“He took it. Right out of my hand.” He pulled open the coach door and helped her inside. “Then he pushed me out of the way.”

 
“But…Goodness.” Did her father favor Connoll’s suit, then? This was the first time she could recall him doing…well, anything. “Goodness.”

 
“Exactly my thought.” He climbed inside after her, leaning out to close the door. “Munroe House, Epping. And no crashes.”

 
“Aye, my lord.”

 
“The question then becomes,” he continued, “what is your father’s idea of bad luck?”

 
Whatwould her father consider ill luck? They needed to know, but the moment the carriage rocked into motion all of her attention, all of her being, centered on the man seated across from her, and the realization that the two of them were together, alone, again.

 
Connoll gamely tried to straighten his cravat, but half of it seemed to be missing. A thin line of blood ran from the left side of his lower lip down his chin, and his black hair stuck out crazily on one side where Dapney had apparently pulled it.

 
“Why did you hit him?” she asked.

 
He half stood, shifting to sit beside her. “I’m impulsive, if you’ll recall.” Leaning closer, he kissed her softly. “Ouch. You see? Impulsive. And I refuse to sit by and allow some fool to insult me.”