Lorraine Heath - [Lost Lords of Pembrook 03] (14 page)

But when she had seen the horse—

Something inside of Rafe had felt as though it were being torn asunder. He wanted her to look at him with the same joy, the same pleasure, the same . . . he wasn’t quite sure what the emotion was. She liked the horse, deeply. Favored it. She had stroked it and murmured to it and smiled at it.

He wanted her to smile at him.

Not look startled and apprehensive when she walked into the room and saw him sitting there.

As he kept his horse plodding along beside hers, he didn’t want to contemplate that he might be jealous of the creature because it held her affections.

He didn’t know what was wrong with him. He’d returned to London, stopped by the dressmaker’s to see what had been completed, and then he’d gone to his residence. Not his club. From the night he’d obtained it, it had always held sway over everything else in his life. In his absence, it could have burned down for all he knew, but he had hardly given it a thought. His entire focus had been on seeing her again.

He had not missed her, because he was not in the habit of missing people. But he had thought of her constantly, continually. He had dreamed of her naked and writhing beneath him. He had dreamed of her wrapping her arms about him—and his not breaking out into a cold sweat, his breathing not becoming erratic, his heart not pounding unmercifully. In his dream, he had merely sunk down into her as she had tightened her hold, until it was impossible to tell where he ended and she began.

But that was fantasy. Reality would be much different. He knew that. Accepted it.

He couldn’t stop his gaze from wandering back over to her. The clothing fit perfectly, hugged her bosom, her ribs, her narrow waist. She sat a horse well. As they entered the park, her eyes widened.

“There are so many people,” she murmured softly.

“This is the time of day when anyone who is anyone promenades about. Have you not been to Hyde Park before?”

She suddenly took great interest in the reins, running the leather through her gloved fingers. “My father brought me here once, in a carriage, early in the morning. I can’t recall seeing more than a dozen people. Will the people here know what I am to you?”

He wished he’d taken her father’s tact and not brought her during the height of the late afternoon. “I doubt it. The men you met that night—of course, they will know, but it serves them no purpose to tell others about what took place. As they did not leave with you, it makes them appear weak.”

“Yet here I am without a chaperon. That says a good deal about my morals, doesn’t it?”

“A good many ladies come unchaperoned—only because there are so many people about. Besides, it doesn’t matter what they think.”

“No, I suppose it doesn’t. Not anymore anyway.” She straightened her shoulders, lifted her chin. “After Mother died, Father took me to his country estate. I’d not returned to London before this year.”

“You remained at the country estate.”

Nodding, she patted the horse’s neck. “I liked it there.”

He imagined she did. From what he’d been able to determine, it was remote, quiet, green. So very green.

“Why did you return this year?”

“I think Father intended to marry me off, but then he took ill—so swiftly, so unexpectedly. His health declined at an alarming rate. The physician said he’d had cancer of the blood for some time. I thought that I might be attending balls.” She glanced around, guided her horse with an expert hand. “I realize now it was a silly dream. If he’d not have brought me to the park during a time when everyone else was about, he’d not have bothered to garner me an invitation to a party.”

He could see the realization dawning that her father might not have been as proud of her as she’d always imagined. Anger, quick and sharp, surged through him. He fought to keep his tone flat, uncaring. “It wasn’t because your father didn’t value you that he didn’t bring you for the promenade. I suspect it was because he cared for you so much that he wouldn’t wish to see you hurt. The people prancing about now can be cruel when they put their minds to it.”

“You don’t think much of them.”

“No, and neither should you. They’re not important.”

“What of the people who live in the residence next to yours? The ones with the little boy. Do you know them?”

“They’re not important.”

She twisted her lips into an ironic smile. “Is anyone important to you?”

You are.
The sentiment made absolutely no sense. His rush to the residence in order to see her again, his prolonging their time together by bringing her here. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d come to a park. It had been for a lady, and they had parted ways soon after. “I’ve been on my own for too long, Eve, for anyone else to matter.”

“Will I feel that way, do you think? After a time?” She shook her head. “I hope not. I find it very sad. And I should think it would be very lonely.”

“Not if you like your own company.”

“And do you like yours?”

Not very, but that was beside the point. He ignored her question, allowed the silence to stretch between them.

“Will we see Geoffrey out here, do you suppose?”

“Not if he sees us first.”

She smiled, a bright cheery smile that reached her eyes and made them sparkle. Something in his chest tightened. The damned waistcoat was much too snug. He shouldn’t have indulged in a sweet. It didn’t take many before his clothes needed altering. He’d discovered that quickly enough years ago.

“Did he give you much trouble over the horse?”

“He named a price and I paid it.” He’d considered simply taking it, but he knew the money would end up back in his pocket anyway, and he had decided angering Wortham further would only serve to increase his resentment toward his half sister. He didn’t think Eve would ever see him again, but one never knew.

“Did he take advantage, do you think?”

He laughed darkly. “Eve, no one takes advantage of me.”

“I can’t decide if you’re confident or arrogant.”

He met and held her gaze. The color of her eyes was darker, not quite so violet. It was the blue of the riding habit. He should have gone with a violet, but he couldn’t deny the grace that it added to her form. Nor did he understand what had prompted him to purchase an item of clothing that covered so much of her.

Wasn’t a mistress supposed to be daring and bold in what she revealed? Eve looked absolutely innocent. Young. So very young. “How old are you anyway?”

“What difference does it make?”

The difference was that out here, content on her horse, relaxed, with no worries that he would demand of her what she certainly was not yet ready to give, she looked more girl than woman. “None at all. Simply curious.”

“Four and ten.”

Swearing harshly, he reached out and grabbed her reins, jerked her horse and his to a stop. He dragged his gaze over her. The delicate features, the slope of her neck and shoulders, the curve of her bodice, the narrow waist, the flare of her hips. “You’re not a child,” he ground out, because he didn’t want her to be, he didn’t want to have this utter fascination with someone he would have to wait years to possess.

She angled her head slightly. “If I were?”

“I don’t take children, and you’re lying.”

“Teasing more like. I thought you a man without a moral compass at all. I’m quite relieved to discover you’re not completely wicked.”

“How old?”

“Two and twenty. An old lady by most standards, I believe. Quite on the shelf. That’s why I thought . . .” Sighing, she shook her head.

“Thought your father intended to marry you off.”

She nodded, skewed her lips into annoyance. “And Geoffrey. When he said he wished to introduce me to gentlemen—I assumed marriage. What of you? Is there someone you fancy?”

“Marriage is not for me.” He released his hold on her reins. His fingers were beginning to ache from the tight grip. The thought of not having her for years—

“Don’t tease me,” he ordered before urging his horse on.

“I enjoy teasing.”

“Yes, well, that’s a habit you’ll have to break while you’re with me.”

“I don’t think I want to be molded into something I’m not.” She sighed heavily, glanced around. “Although I suppose that’s happening, isn’t it?”

He refused to feel guilty because of her father’s poor planning.

“Are there other mistresses here, do you think?”

“I suspect there are, but they’re cleverly disguised as ladies.”

“Much like me.”

Not like you,
he thought. In all of England, he doubted there was a woman to compare.

E
velyn knew she was babbling, talking about nothing of consequence or importance. It irritated her that she worried what people thought, that she felt as though she moved about with a great big M sewn onto her chest. She saw many couples parading about. Surely they weren’t all married.

And surely if her father had not been ashamed of her, he would have brought her when the park was teeming with people. She didn’t doubt that he loved her, but she was beginning to realize that he might not have been as proud of her as he’d always claimed. He’d never taken her into a dressmaker’s. He’d never ridden by her side through a park.

She supposed Rafe Easton did it without any embarrassment because he was notoriously scandalous himself. She couldn’t deny that he epitomized what she imagined fell into line with most ladies’ dreams—tall, handsome, with just enough aloofness to be intriguing. He would make the women come to him. She wondered if he would expect her to initiate their coming together. She very much doubted it.

If he waited on her to be ready, he would find himself waiting a good long while. Although perhaps not as long as she’d originally thought. She didn’t like knowing that he was such a loner. No one stopped to speak with them, no one shouted greetings. Rather people seemed to make a point of avoiding them as though they were in danger of catching the plague from them if they got too close.

Her initial reaction had been that it was because of what she was to become—a woman of low moral character. Yet she was coming to realize that it was more the wall surrounding him that kept people away. He didn’t smile, he didn’t greet, he didn’t acknowledge. He was a lord, and yet he wasn’t treated with the deference of one. She wanted to tell him that it didn’t matter to her that his business dealings rendered him not quite respectable. He’d made something of himself, and yet it was obvious that all his hard work had not returned him to the bosom of the aristocracy, had not returned him to where he should have been.

Swearing harshly, he grimaced. He must have tightened his hold on the reins because his horse sidestepped and had to be brought back in line.

“Whatever’s wrong?” she asked.

He gritted his teeth, shook his head. “We’re about to be put upon.”

“By whom?” Glancing around, she spotted the couple on matching bays trotting toward them. They were near enough that there was no hope for escape, but as they got closer, she had suspicions regarding who the gentleman might be. His eyes gave him away. The pale blue that resembled ice over a lake—but they weren’t cold. Rather they were warm and inviting, twinkling with amusement that matched the smile worn by the lady riding beside him. Her hair was such a pale blond as to be almost white. Her eyes were a molten silver. Evelyn would not have described her as a great beauty, and yet there was a nobility to her bearing that graced her and made her unforgettable.

They brought their horses to a halt as Rafe and Evelyn did the same.

“Brother, I never expected to run across you here,” the man said.

“Is Sebastian about?”

“Somewhere. Mary insists he make appearances.” He shifted his attention to Evelyn. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.”

“Allow me the honor of introducing Miss Evelyn Chambers. Evelyn, Lord Tristan Easton and his wife, Lady Anne.”

Lord Tristan swept his hat from his head. “A pleasure. You’re Wortham’s sister.”

“Half sister, yes.”

“So sorry for the loss of your father,” Lady Anne said.

“Thank you.” She was acutely aware that she was not dressed in mourning and she should be.

“She’d be in black, if I didn’t insist otherwise,” Rafe said. “It’s a horrendous shade on her. Does nothing to flatter her complexion.”

“I think we go to extremes on the mourning attire,” Lady Anne said kindly. “I say that as someone who wore black for two years.”

“You lost your father as well?” Evelyn asked.

She smiled softly. “No, he is quite well. Like so many, I lost my betrothed during the Crimean War. Tristan and I met when I hired him to take me to Scutari to visit Walter’s grave.”

“Tristan was a boat captain for a bit,” Rafe said.

Lord Tristan growled in a manner very similar to Rafe’s when he wasn’t happy. “
Ship
captain. There is a difference between a ship and a boat.”

“They both float on the water.”

“And there, the similarities end. If you would go sailing with us, I could demonstrate the difference.”

“You still have your ship?” Evelyn asked. She could imagine how wonderful it would be to be able to go wherever she wanted, whenever she wanted.

Lord Tristan gave her a kind smile. “No, I sold the
Revenge
to a gent who I knew would appreciate it and care for it. But I’m designing and building yachts. I suspect yachting will become quite the thing in a few years. We’ll be taking the first one out for a testing next week. If Rafe joins us, you’re more than welcome to come along.”

“I’ve never been on the sea.”

“I found it quite exhilarating,” Lady Anne said.

“If you’re testing it, then there’s a good chance it might sink,” Rafe said.

Lord Tristan laughed. “Do you think I would dare risk my wife on something I wasn’t sure of? Besides, I know you swim.”

“That’s not the point. Although it hardly matters. We won’t have time for the boat.”

“Probably for the best because if you called it a boat while you were on board, I’d heave you over the side.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

Evelyn had never seen two men glare at each other in such anger. Were they going to come to fisticuffs? She’d never witnessed a fight before. She suspected what was hovering between them had nothing at all to do with the ship or the boat. It went much deeper. Lord Tristan was one of the brothers who had left him, gone on without him.