Chapter 29
Richard walked through the Brentwoods’ door with a fully formed plan.
He’d enlisted Gerhard’s and Clemency’s help. There was no man he trusted more than Gerhard, and now, on this matter of such importance to him, he’d confided all in his friend, whom he knew he could count on.
“You are in love with this woman,” was Gerhard’s only comment. “Of course you must try to win her.”
Clemency, of course, had been delighted. “Oh, Richard, how wonderful! We shall do all in our power to help.”
Gerhard had agreed that he would divert Sir Paul Brentwood and anyone else who appeared to interfere with Richard’s plan.
It was a simple one, after all: charm everyone in sight and then approach Evangeline, once he had cut the legs from under any potential gossip.
All he wanted was to dance with her, preferably the supper dance, when he would then be able to escort her in to dine.
He would have her on his arm and at his side, in full view of London society.
Since the day their affair began, he had accepted and understood the need for discretion.
Lolling in her steaming bathhouse years ago, he had heard everything she said, and surmised a few things she hadn’t said.
Her marriages had been awful, and both times she had been blamed for it.
She had no faith that society wouldn’t paint her the most scandalous of wicked widows for associating with him.
He had no reason to doubt her fear; he remembered his own sister’s initial reaction to her name.
And for six years, it hadn’t mattered. She rarely went to society events, so he rarely went, either.
His friends quickly learned to invite her to any dinner or private soirée, if they wanted him to come.
With their properties bordering each other, he saw her almost every day—or night.
The path from Humberton Hall to Wyndham House was an easy one to travel even in the dark of night, now that he had his gardener maintain it.
But then she’d gone away to London, to her brother’s house in South Audley Street, where he could not come and go discreetly, or at all.
“I wish it were different, but my sister-in-law is so mindful of propriety,” she’d told him, biting her lip with regret.
“I don’t wish to cause her any unease, especially when she is ill. ”
“Of course,” he’d told her. “I understand completely.”
Her face had shone with relief and gratitude. “Oh, Richard, thank you,” she’d said, squeezing his hand. “I do so want to do this, for Joan’s sake.”
And for her own, he thought. It had meant so much to her, and he wanted her to have the family connection she’d missed and craved for years, but the truth was, he had missed her even more than he’d expected to.
Being deprived of her company for a mere month had driven home to him how deeply he cared for her, and how galling it was that the upturned noses of some matrons could cause such trouble in his life.
And in Evangeline’s. She might not crave their good opinion, but it had still cost her dearly. He’d had enough of that.
He headed right for his hostess, one of those matrons of upturned nose, and took her hand in his.
She was a slender woman with pale eyes and a pointed chin.
“My dear Lady Brentwood, how very kind of you to invite me to your gathering.” He kissed her knuckles, letting his lips actually brush her glove.
“Oh, my!” She blushed scarlet. “Why, Sir Richard, we are most delighted to have you! I know you do not often attend society events . . .”
He gazed into her pale blue eyes and gave her an intimate smile. “Ah, but this one is not the usual society party, is it?”
Her mouth sagged open for a second before she recovered. “Why, how good of you to notice! My husband and I do so enjoy these honorarium balls. Don’t we, Sir Paul?” she asked as her husband stepped up beside her.
“What? Yes, yes. Campion, capital to see you tonight.” He bowed, looking quite pleased with himself, and Richard returned the greeting.
While most of Lord Allen’s friends had kept a distance from him since the night he’d dined with them at White’s, Brentwood had seemed to be even more impressed with his daring and nerve.
“My dear, I was just telling Sir Richard how much we treasure our honorarium balls,” said his wife, waving her closed fan about as she spoke, giving her the air of a conductor.
“How very beneficial it is to our spirits to host a selection of guests who might broaden all our horizons, by sharing their knowledge and fascinating experiences.”
“Quite right, Lady Brentwood,” said Sir Paul with a benevolent smile. “Why simply dance and drink with our everyday society? No, I say, bring in the adventurers, the artists, the geniuses who will show us the future!”
Richard laid one hand on his heart and bowed his head. “You honor me.”
“Oh, sir, you do honor us, with your company,” she trilled back.
“Perhaps you will grant me a dance, madam?”
Lady Brentwood turned pink again. “It would be my pleasure, sir.”
“And mine,” he said with a smile.
Sir Paul laughed. “And it would be my pleasure to introduce you to some people, Campion. Shall we?”
“Of course.” To Lady Brentwood, he bowed. “Until later, madam.”
They left her preening behind her fan. Richard did his duty, greeting everyone Sir Paul introduced him to, but always with one eye on the door. He had deliberately come early, but expected Evangeline and her charge to arrive at a more fashionable hour.
Clemency arrived, Gerhard in tow, and exclaimed in delight when she saw him.
“Oh, you did come,” she cried, giving him her hand.
“I told you I would.” He raised a brow. “What made you think I would not?”
She blushed. “You so often don’t! I’m just delighted to see you.”
Richard looked at Gerhard, who gave a tiny shrug. “Would you like some champagne?” he asked his sister.
“Oh, yes,” she said, with an artless glance at Gerhard. The man turned on his heel at once and plowed through the throng toward a footman with a tray of flutes.
“Neatly done,” he said in amusement. “I hope he brings some for me as well.”
She swatted his arm. “Don’t tease me, Richard. Have you seen Lady Courtenay?”
His gaze skimmed once more over the crowd. “Not yet.”
“I believe she and her niece were arriving as we were climbing the steps.”
He barely heard her, scanning the guests more closely. She was here, somewhere, or would be at any moment. He felt as eager as a child on Christmas Eve. “Excellent,” he murmured.
“Richard.” Startled by her tone, he looked at her.
She pursed her lips and straightened his cravat.
“If I may give you a word of advice . . . Ask Miss Bennet to dance first. I understand she is not one of the popular young ladies, and it will seem quite heroic in her eyes, and likely in her aunt’s. ”
Richard looked at her in surprise. That was an excellent suggestion. “Brilliant thought, Clem. Thank you.”
She flicked something from his sleeve, fussing over him as if he were one of her sons.
“And be very gallant when you ask her. Lady Brentwood will have no choice but to approve, but the more regard you show for the proprieties . . . Well, it may sway the other dragons watching.” She smoothed his lapel and gave it a pat. “Good luck.”
He covered her hand and pressed it. “Thank you.”
Over her shoulder he caught sight of Miss Bennet, who looked decidedly more elegant than usual.
Richard had only met her once, but tonight she wore a gleaming gown of gold that gave her a new sophistication.
Her face was bright with excitement as she came into the room, and there, a step behind her, was Evangeline.
God above. He stopped breathing for a moment at how beautiful she was. Her gown was deep blue, as if she had planned it as a foil to her niece’s shine. Around her neck and at her ears, he recognized the sapphires he had given her a year ago.
And it hit him that he loved her—he would always love her, only her, and he would never feel complete without her. No other woman had ever moved him, amused him, intrigued him, comforted him, warmed him to the very bottom of his soul the way she did.
Sir Paul interrupted his realization with an inane question, and then Lady Brentwood came over to lead the opening set with him. He smiled and flattered and danced, and finally made his way toward her.
Miss Bennet had been talking with a pair of young ladies, but they left as Richard approached, to his relief.
His sister’s suggestion was a good one, even if he could see that Miss Bennet was covertly searching the room—for Burke, no doubt.
Richard had spotted the viscount lurking behind a pillar earlier.
He bowed in front of the ladies. “Good evening, Lady Courtenay. Miss Bennet.”
The young lady beamed as she curtsied and returned the greeting. Evangeline gave him a simmering look as she dipped her head.
“You look exceptionally lovely tonight,” he said.
“Did you come over here just to express the obvious?” she said with a smile. “My niece looks magnificent, and I warrant everyone recognizes it.”
He smiled back. From the corner of his eye he saw Miss Bennet blush, but he couldn’t take his eyes off Evangeline.
He felt starved for any sight of her. “I recognized it from the most distant corner of the room.” With effort, he turned to her niece.
“I wonder if Miss Bennet would do me the compliment of partnering me in the next dance?”
The girl’s eyes went wide. “I would be delighted. Thank you, sir.”
Evangeline sent him a look of adoration that made his heart leap. Richard said another silent thanks to his sister. He led out her niece, and reminded himself to make polite conversation. “Are you enjoying the ball?”
“Yes,” she said, “but I wish my aunt would enjoy it more.”