The Widowed Countess (25 page)

Blinking in an effort to pull her thoughts from those better left in a bedchamber, Evangeline forced herself to concentrate on Lord Sommers’ other attributes.

Bowing deeply before saying a word of greeting, Lord Sommers’ eyes seemed to caress her. “Lady Evangeline, please do pardon my interruption,” he said, his voice almost a plea.

Evangeline, her lips slightly parted from her surprise at his appearance, afforded him a deep curtsy. Even before she had returned to a standing position, Sommers had moved into the room and reached for her hand, lifting it to his lips so that he could bestow a kiss on her knuckles. His lips didn’t just brush over her skin as she expected they might, but rather took purchase and kissed her as she imagined he might kiss her lips. A tremor shook her body, the shock of his touch so unexpected and so pleasurable, she had to suppress another gasp. “Of course, Lord Sommers. You are most welcome at Rosemount whenever you should wish to call,” she managed to get out, keeping a small smile in place. She felt almost giddy that Sommers would kiss the back of her hand as he’d done. Indeed, he hadn’t yet let go of her hand. And, at the moment, she didn’t really care if she ever got it back. As far as she was concerned, he could keep it.

Sommers seemed relieved to hear her response, his expression otherwise one of indecision. “My lady, I ...” He glanced back at the open door, wondering if the butler hovered somewhere beyond. “I know this may seem ... untoward,” he struggled to get out, “But I was wondering if we might go for a ride in the park a bit earlier than I indicated in my note. I realize it’s not the fashionable hour, but by that time this afternoon, I’m rather hoping I will have completed courting you and have an affirmative response to my request for your hand in marriage. So that I might find myself on the morrow at Doctor’s Commons in pursuit of a special license so that we might marry in a few days.” The words had come tumbling out, with no hint of embarrassment or self-doubt or regard for propriety.

Lady Evangeline stared at Lord Sommers for a moment, blinking before a brilliant smile appeared. “You’re not being the least bit untoward, Lord Sommers,” she replied with a slight shake of her head.
Marriage?
Lord Sommers intended to ask for her hand!

“Jeffrey,” he stated, his hand moving to hold hers more tightly. “You should call me Jeffrey,” he added, taking a step closer to her.

“And you should call me Evangeline. Or Eva, if you prefer,” she countered, realizing her heart had settled into a rhythm that, although still entirely too fast, was at least quiet enough that she could hear her own words.

“Eva,” Sommers breathed, his lips suddenly hovering over hers.

Evangeline closed her eyes as his lips settled over hers, as the hand that held the riding crop moved to the back of her shoulder to pull her body forward just a bit. She took a step forward so that her entire body collided with the front of his. Her free hand reached up to rest on his shoulder and then moved to the back of his neck as his lips opened against hers. She allowed her lips to follow suit, aware that the tip of his tongue was brushing over her teeth.

At some point, a moan or a mewl escaped her, which only encouraged Sommers to deepen the kiss. The hand that held hers released it and came to rest on the back of her waist, pulling her body harder against his. The bulge behind the fall of his breeches pressed into her soft belly through the fabric of her gown. He rather wished there was less fabric separating them. Far less. None, in fact, but there would be more appropriate places for that.

Evangeline thrilled at the realization that she had caused his arousal, not for a moment frightened by what could happen next. Lord Sommers was going to ask for her hand!

“Eva,” he whispered, his lips pulling away from hers so they could leave soft kisses along her jawline.

“Jeffrey,” she whispered back, her hand sliding through the waves of his silken brown hair. She was sure she felt a shiver pass through him as his lips moved to her earlobe. In a moment, his teeth were teasing the soft flesh, sending shivers through Evangeline unlike anything she had felt before. The hand behind her waist moved up and around so it rested on the side of one breast, the thumb caressing her suddenly hardening nipple. Evangeline couldn’t stifle the small shriek that erupted from her throat.

Jeffrey’s lips moved to cover hers, kissing her as he repeated the stroke over her nipple. “Marry me, Eva,” he whispered, his lips moving to cover hers before she could reply.

Evangeline nodded against his lips. When he finally pulled away to take a breath, she said simply, “Yes.” She was aware of the hand next to her breast moving to somewhere inside his coat, so that he had to pull his body away from hers for a moment. Then her left hand was held in his and a ring was sliding onto her finger.

“It’s not the real one, of course,” he murmured, his forehead coming to rest on hers. “But I’ll have one far better by tomorrow,” he promised, his whisper urgent.

Evangeline dared a glance at her left hand, stunned when she realized his opal signet ring was wrapped around her middle finger.

“You have made me a very happy man, Eva,” he whispered, his lips saying the words against hers. 

“And you have made me a very happy woman, Jeffrey,” she replied with a sigh. “Perhaps  ... perhaps we could just skip the ride and continue this instead?” she wondered, her words coming out in little breaths. Had she taken a moment to consider what she had just said, she might have gasped and begged forgiveness for her impropriety. But the look on Jeffrey’s face suggested he would be most disappointed if she did such a thing.

“As my lady wishes,” he replied with an enthusiastic nod. “Although, I do believe I need to sit down. You have left me quite unable to stand of my own volition.”

Eva giggled, leading him to a large wing chair. Even as he sat down, he pulled her atop him, settling her so her bottom rested on one of his thighs and her head settled against his shoulder. “My brother said nothing,” she whispered, suddenly irate that Everly wouldn’t share the good news of her impending betrothal to Lord Sommers.

Jeffrey let out a snort. “That’s because I haven’t yet asked his permission to court you,” he replied, his arms wrapping around her body so his hands were clasped together as they rested on her hip.

“Oh,” Evangeline replied, wondering if she should be disappointed that he hadn’t followed protocol. “I do not think he’ll object,” she murmured, reaching out with her lips to kiss his jaw.

“He had better not, or the Earl of Torrington will have his hide,” Christian stated, his own lips moving to cover hers for a quick kiss.

Evangeline straightened on his lap, eliciting a slight gasp from Jeffrey as her hip pressed harder against his hardened manhood. “What does my godfather have to do with this?” she wondered, her brows furrowing together.

Jeffrey had to suppress a chuckle. “Your brother may be blind to love, my lady, but Grandby is not. He’s a rather convincing matchmaker when he puts his mind to it.”

Evangeline regarded Jeffrey for a moment. “You didn’t ask for my hand because he
ordered
you to do so, did you?” she asked, suddenly doubtful of the baron’s intentions.

Jeffrey tilted his head to one side. “No,” he replied carefully. “Although I admit I am asking a bit sooner than I expected to be able to, only because he said he would see to your brother on my behalf.”

His future baroness seemed satisfied with his answer, for she settled her head back onto his shoulder. “Would it be alright if we had a small, quiet wedding?” she whispered, her lashes resting on the tops of her cheekbones as if she might take a nap in a moment or two.

A chuckled erupted from Jeffrey just then. “I would prefer it, but I want you to have the wedding of your dreams,” he murmured sleepily.

“Mmm,” she purred, her eyes still closed.

In a moment, her even breathing indicated to Jeffrey that she had fallen asleep in his arms. He gave a sigh of his own as he closed his eyes and concentrated on the scent of honeysuckle that wafted around her blonde bun and ringlets. Not only had Lady Evangeline given him the kind of response he could only fantasize about, she had been everything Sommers had hoped in the woman he would one day marry. Even if that day was just a few days hence. Had he followed Grandby’s instructions to the letter, he would be taking the lady for a ride in the park later that afternoon, perhaps choosing to detour on foot through the lesser-used walking paths among the trees. He would ask to court her before they left the park, and then he would ask for her hand when he was depositing her on the steps of Lord Everly’s home with the promise of a ring the following day.

Instead, he had managed to accomplish an entire afternoon of courting in just a few moments. And an even greater miracle was that, despite the fact that the butler hovered just outside the parlor door, the man never once interrupted Lady Evangeline’s nap to take issue with him over the impropriety of how he held her or how she was positioned rather suggestively against most of his body. He was just deciding he was going to enjoy being leg-shackled when the sound of a carriage turning into the drive caused Evangeline to give a start and suddenly open her eyes.

“Good afternoon, my beautiful,” he whispered with a teasing grin.

There was a moment when Evangeline thought she had simply moved from one dream to the next, for to wake up in the arms of a man as handsome as Lord Sommers wasn’t something she ever hoped to do. But the light press of his lips against her forehead brought her back to reality and she smiled. “Are you quite sure you can abide a wife who would fall asleep in the arms of her intended?” she whispered, her furrowing brows suggesting she was quite serious.

“Absolutely,” Jeffrey replied with a nod. He kissed her then, most thoroughly, just as the sound of the front door closing reached his ears.

Evangeline was quite sure she had never moved so fast in her life, especially when it wasn’t of her own doing. For one moment she was nestled against the front of her betrothed and the next she was sitting quite primly on the settee and Jeffrey was back in the wing chair with a cup of tea covering the bulge in his crotch, regarding her as if none of the previous thirty minutes had happened.

Her brother’s entrance into the parlor might have been a bit on the violent side, he no doubt having been briefed by Jones regarding the presence of Lord Sommers. But when he found his sister regarding him with an arched eyebrow and Sommers quite properly seated across from her, he relaxed. “Is it ...is it done then?” he asked, his attention going back and forth between the two.

Jeffrey Althorpe stood and gave Evangeline’s brother a nod, wondering if Grandby had just spoken to the man. “I have asked for your sister’s hand, and she has accepted,” he replied with another nod. “And, as Lady Evangeline would prefer a small ceremony, I will see to a special license so that we might marry as early as ... next week?” He turned to confirm the arrangement with his fiancée.

“That would be lovely,” she replied, giving her husband-to-be a brilliant smile.

Lord Everly shrugged and gave the two each a nod. “What a relief. I can get on with my next trip. I was beginning to think I’d be stuck in England for the rest of my life.” Before either his sister or his future brother-in-law could respond, the explorer took his leave of the parlor.

“That went well,” Evangeline commented lightly.

“Indeed,” Jeffrey replied, the barest hint of disbelief in his voice.

Later that night at White’s, when he sat at a card table with Lord Barrings, Sir Richard, and his future brother-in-law, Sommers couldn’t help but notice the Earl of Torrington sitting in a wingback chair nearby. In a voice he intended Grandby to overhear, he mentioned having had a rather memorable thirtieth birthday. “I have asked for the hand of a woman I have wanted to marry for some time, and she has agreed to be my wife,” he said proudly.

Two of the other gentlemen regarded him with looks of surprise. “You?
Married
?” Lord Barrings replied, his astonishment apparent in the way his eyebrows lifted.

“You sound like you
want
to be leg-shackled,” Sir Richard stated, his own bushy eyebrows raised in surprise.

“Indeed? It’s too bad. I’d rather hoped you would consider my sister, Lady Evangeline,” Lord Everly stated sadly, his one eye winking in the baron’s direction. He picked up his cards and studied them, unaware of Sommers’ glare and the eyes he sent skyward.

“Who’s the unlucky chit?” Lord Barrings asked as he raised a cheroot to his lips.

“Pray tell,” Sir Richard encouraged.

Sommers sighed and shook his head. “Her identity, gentlemen, is known only to myself and Grandby, who will be informing the brother involved,” he waved a hand toward the older earl, who acknowledged his comment with a nod, “Hopefully, tonight,” he added, wondering at Lord Everly’s claim to ignorance. “Oh, and the lady herself.”

With that, he threw in his cards and left to pay a visit to Stedman and Vardon.

The Earl of Torrington smiled.

Chapter 24

Dinner and a Show

Allowing Daniel to pull out her chair, Clarinda took her place at the end of the long table in Norwick Park’s dining room, suddenly conscious of the fact that Daniel would be the only other diner that evening. In a surprising move that morning, Wallingham had no sooner arrived at Norwick Park before he whisked Dorothea off to Bognor, claiming he had business in Brighton and may as well escort her ladyship to her home on his way – never mind the twenty-five mile distance between the two locales.

Neither Clarinda nor Daniel expected the two would actually
make
it to Bognor.

Clarinda thought that her mother-in-law and Lord Wallingham made a rather happy couple, although she could agree with the new earl that his potential father-in-law was ‘oily’. At least the viscount wasn’t a habitual gambler. In fact, his only vice seemed to be his propensity to bed older women – at least six last Season, if the wags were to be believed. Since most of those wags were men who frequented White’s, and since Wallingham was a member there, Clarinda thought there probably had been at least that many women who succumbed to his expert use of his ... family jewels.

“She probably won’t marry him,” Daniel said suddenly, as if he could read Clarinda’s thoughts. There was a tinge of hope in the comment, as if he was trying to convince himself as well as Clarinda.

Watching Daniel take his place at the other end of the table, a considerably shorter table now that several leaves had been removed, Clarinda considered his comment. “Are you ... relieved then?” she wondered, placing a napkin across her lap and doing a quick survey of the table and its settings. Although David might not have been a stickler for details when it came to a dining table at dinner, Clarinda didn’t yet know Daniel’s thoughts on the topic.

“Not yet,” he replied, allowing a wan smile before he shrugged with one shoulder. “She was still wearing that blue rock when she left here this afternoon. Although, I must admit I am very relieved to know Wallingham didn’t shoot David.” He straightened as a footman came into the room and placed a bowl of soup in front of Clarinda.

Having just picked up her wine glass, Clarinda nearly dropped it. “Shoot him?” she repeated, her mouth opened in shock. “Oh. You refer to that misunderstanding that nearly led to a duel, then?” she clarified, bringing the glass to her lips and drinking a bit more than she intended.

Daniel’s gaze drifted from the bowl of soup that the footman had just placed before him back up to Clarinda.

“Misunderstanding?” he repeated, wondering at her curious wording.

Clarinda nodded. “A couple of weeks ago, David was rather incensed at Lord Wallingham. Claimed the viscount had said something rather gauche about me. So David slapped him in the face with his gloves and challenged him to pistols at dawn.” She paused to take a spoonful of soup. “And then he forgot all about it. But, since no seconds were chosen to make the arrangements as to place and time, the duel came to nothing. The two probably would have laughed about it except David ... David died two days later.” She wondered why the thought didn’t make her cry as it had just a week ago. She began eating her soup in earnest, feeling more hungry than she had in days.

Daniel regarded Clarinda for a very long time, his expression quizzical. “David told me that duel was about something gauche Wallingham said about our
mother
,” he commented carefully. “And then Wallingham told me it was about David having impugned
his
honor. Odd, don’t you think, that they had two completely different reasons for the duel?” He nearly stopped in the middle of his sentence, thinking it wasn’t appropriate to be discussing duels with a lady. But Clarinda didn’t seem to mind and, in fact, seemed quite interested. “So, if Wallingham didn’t shoot David, then who did?”

Clarinda’s eyes widened in horror. “Who said David was shot?” she managed to get out. “The constable said he broke his neck when he was thrown from his horse.”

Daniel sighed, realizing just then that David’s ghost hadn’t told her about the hole in his head. “He claimed he was dead before he hit the ground. There is a hole in the back of his neck – I saw it with my own eyes. He was shot, Clare,” he stated, his head cocking to one side. “Which means someone either murdered him or ... accidentally killed him.”

Clare’s brows furrowed so the little fold of skin appeared between them. “If you’re referring to that hole in the nape of his neck, that’s an old hole,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone. “From when
you
shot him.”

Daniel’s bowl of soup nearly toppled over. “What?”
What could she mean?
“
I
didn’t shoot David!” he countered, stunned she would accuse him of such a thing. And do so while calmly eating soup.

“You did, too,” she countered. “You shot each other, if David’s story is to believed,” she claimed, taking another spoonful of soup and acting as if the hole in the back of David’s head was supposed to be there. “You have a matching hole on your chest,” she added, as if she’d seen it first hand.

Daniel stared at her for a very long time. He was about to ask how she knew about that hole between his two lower ribs and then remembered he had been in her bed that one time – although he couldn’t recall one of her fingers finding the divot in his flesh. He had to finish that thought before he allowed it to progress too far. His pantaloons were too tight as it was. “From the slingshot,” he remembered suddenly, his gaze directed somewhere beyond Clarinda. “A piece of gravel.”

“Uh huh,” Clarinda confirmed as she continued eating her soup. She watched as Daniel’s face took on an expression of recalling something long forgotten, remembering how he had shot his brother with a piece of pea gravel, and while David howled in pain, his brother had shot him right back. And they’d declared a truce while they dug the offending shrapnel from their bodies and hurried off to have their nurse apply plasters to the holes.

Daniel shook his head, wondering if David had used the hole in his head as a ruse to gain sympathy, or if his brother truly thought he’d been shot with a bullet the day he died.

Finishing her soup, Clarinda considered Daniel’s words. “When did you speak with David about the duel?” she wondered, suddenly straightening in her chair. Her mouth opened and shut very quickly, one gloved hand reaching up to cover her lips.

Shaking his head in resignation, Daniel sighed. “He ... He has seen fit to visit me quite frequently since ... my arrival,” he stammered, not wanting to say, “Since his departure,” which, although might have been more appropriate, certainly wasn’t the case given David still hadn’t actually
departed
. “His comments would lead me to believe you have suffered the same ... visitations far more often than I imagined.”

Clarinda held her breath for a moment, stunned at Daniel’s words. “‘Suffered’ is perhaps a rather harsh word to use to describe what I found to be rather comforting moments,” she spoke in quiet tones, hoping the footman or another servant wasn’t about to appear with the next course. “Although, some of his comments have been rather hard to ... abide.” If Daniel really was hearing and seeing David like she had been, it meant she wasn’t the only candidate for Bedlam.

“Like when he claimed you are having twins?” Daniel wondered, glad to hear her acknowledge David’s visits again. At least he wasn’t a candidate for Bedlam.

Or, if he was, then so was she. Perhaps they would be allowed to share a room. And a bed.

“I found that particular claim rather ... welcome, I suppose. According to him, I’m having twin girls, though, so you’ll be relieved to know you truly are the earl,” she said with a nod in his direction.

The words weren’t spoken with any kind of spite or disappointment, Daniel was relieved to note.
Twin girls
. He gave the idea some thought, his lips curling up a bit at the edges. “They’ll be beautiful, just like their mother. I’ll bestow generous dowries on them and ensure they marry men who are at least viscounts in the peerage and who aren’t notorious rakes or gamblers,” he claimed, saying the words as if he’d practiced the vow for some time.

Clarinda’s eyes widened in surprise. “Goodness. It will be a wonder they marry at all, then,” she replied, her own lips curling up a bit. She sobered, though, and sighed. “Some of David’s other assertions are a bit more difficult to comprehend,” she spoke carefully, her eyes downcast.

“Oh?”

Clarinda blushed, hoping her reddening face wouldn’t be so evident under the candles of the chandelier.

“You’re blushing,” Daniel murmured, the tone of his voice not necessarily sounding humored.

Dipping her head a moment and wishing a footman would appear to take the dishes, Clarinda sighed. “David believes I should marry you. And he claims I will bear you twin boys about two years from now.”

From the tone of her voice, Daniel tried to determine if David’s wish was hers as well.
Twin boys
. She couldn’t despise him that much now, could she?

She would after she bore the twin boys, of course, but that was still two years from now.

Daniel stood up suddenly, startling Clarinda so her head snapped up. She watched him as he approached her, wondering if she should flee the room. His brown eyes were nearly black, his expression so fierce Clarinda thought he intended to ... well, she wasn’t quite sure what he intended to do until he suddenly grabbed a pink rose from the vase on the sideboard and knelt next to her chair. He took one of her hands in his. “Pretend this room is an entire garden of pink roses,” he whispered as he handed her the rose. She took it with her free hand, remembering the roses in Kensington Gardens. “And please, Clare, agree to be my wife.”

Clarinda held her breath, shocked when he pulled a sapphire and diamond ring from his waistcoat pocket. It wasn’t Dorothea’s wedding ring – the sapphire was far too large, as were the series of white diamonds that surrounded the blue-violet stone. Clarinda gasped when she saw it. Daniel had it slipped onto her finger before she had a chance to speak.

“Daniel!” she breathed, throwing herself into his arms. Given his position on one knee, he toppled backwards, Clarinda following him down so she ended up atop him on the floor in a tangle of silk skirts and arms and legs. Her lips were on his, then, kissing him and breathless with her “Yes” and “Of course, I will marry you.”

And, of course, the footman would choose that very moment to appear to remove their soup bowls. Although he let out a surprised gasp at finding them on the floor, he never once missed a step in his duty, pausing only to ask if they were ready for the main course.

Daniel held up a hand. “We are,” he replied, allowing Clarinda to continue kissing his cheek. “We have been for four years, I believe,” he murmured happily.

The footman bowed. “Very good, my lord. My lady,” he replied before he hurried back through the door to the kitchens.