Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
The journey to Lady Vernon’s estate took over an hour.
The rain was a steady thump on the carriage roof, fat drops pelting the windows and making muck of the roads.
Halfway there, Jeffries, the driver, inquired if Evie wanted to continue; she gave him a decisive yes.
Having set her course, she had no intention of turning back.
What if I am too late? What will I discover when I get there?
Her thoughts raged as powerfully as the winds outside, but she refused to give in to despair. She had to hope—to believe that despite everything that had gone wrong in her marriage, James would not betray her.
At her destination, Evie wasted no time gawking at the magnificence of Lady Vernon’s manor.
She already knew her rival had wealth, beauty, and influence.
Yet that didn’t give the woman the right to dally with her husband.
Jealousy and righteous indignation prompted her to open the carriage door before the wheels came to a full stop.
Despite Jeffries’s pleas for her to wait while he fetched an umbrella, she raced up the front steps through the whipping wind and rain.
She didn’t care about getting wet—didn’t care about anything but stopping the seduction of her husband. She rang the bell as lightning cracked the sky, releasing sheets of water. A few minutes later, the butler answered. He stared at her, his expression going from startled to dismissive.
“Deliveries are to be made at the back entrance,” he said coldly.
Given that she was drenched and still wearing the simple walking dress she’d worn to Chuddums, she didn’t hold his mistaken assumption against him. She set her shoulders back and summoned a commanding manner.
“I am the Countess of Manderly,” she said. “I believe my husband arrived before me.”
“I beg your pardon, my lady. Please come in.”
The butler’s composure was a testament to his skill, especially when she handed him her soaking bonnet and stood dripping on the marble floor.
Bowing low, he said, “Allow me to inform the mistress of your arrival.”
Evie dashed water from her cheek. “Are Lady Vernon and the earl at supper?”
“I believe they are enjoying pre-prandial drinks in the drawing room—”
Evie did not wait to hear the rest. She headed toward where she thought the drawing room would be. The butler hurried after her, his long stride allowing him to reach the door in the dark-paneled corridor first. He gripped the knob as if he feared she would wrestle it from him.
“If you will allow me to announce you, my lady—”
“I will announce myself. Please open the door. Or I shall.”
Looking horrified, the butler quickly opened the door. Before he could open his mouth, Evie swept past him. Her heart plummeted at the intimate scene. James and Lady Vernon shared a cozy loveseat. Their backs were to her, their heads bent close together.
A dull roar filled Evie’s ears.
“What is going on here?”
She didn’t recognize the growl in her voice, nor the mad beat of her blood.
James twisted his head around, his expression one of utter surprise…the bounder. Did he think she wouldn’t catch him in the act? Frowning, he got to his feet.
“Evie?” He ran a baffled gaze over her. “What are you doing here?”
“I am your wife.” She lifted her chin. “It is my place to be here.”
“How lovely of you to join us, Lady Manderly.”
Lady Vernon rose, the movement as sensually elegant as her rose-colored silk gown.
Her neckline trod the precise line between fashionable and scandalous.
Her chestnut hair was upswept, with a single plump curl left to dangle coyly over her shoulder.
She did not look surprised, nor alarmed, to be caught in flagrante.
Her lush mouth, tinted the same shade as her dress, tilted upward at the corners.
“Please, do have a seat.” She gestured at the seat beside her, the one James had vacated, before addressing the butler. “Aston, see that another place is set for supper.”
Evie scowled. What is the blasted woman up to? If she thinks I am going to pretend to be civil while she entices my husband, she is sorely mistaken.
“I am not interested in your games,” she said tightly.
“Evie. What is the matter with you?”
James had the gall to look mortified. Instead of waiting for her reply, he turned to Lady Vernon.
“Pray forgive my wife,” he said in a low voice. “She has been under a great deal of strain, between caring for me during my illness and—”
“Do not presume to speak for me.” Evie clenched her hands, unable to bear the humiliation of her husband apologizing to this…this interloper on her behalf. “Or treat me as if I am some na?f. I may not be as worldly as Lady Vernon, but I know what I see with my own eyes.”
“By Jove, Evie,” James said in a warning growl. “Have you gone mad—”
“Pray allow your wife to continue, Manderly.” Lady Vernon’s eyes gleamed. “I am interested in what she has to say. Especially since, unlike most acquaintances, she has the courage to say it to my face rather than whisper it behind a fan.”
Understanding the unspoken challenge, Evie squared her shoulders and summoned the image of Loretta’s broom.
She stalked over to her rival, ready to defend what was hers…
but came to an uncertain halt. When she entered, she hadn’t seen the coffee table in front of the loveseat.
A large map of Chuddums was spread on its surface.
Diagrams had been drawn on the map…what appeared to be plans for the hustings.
Boxes labeled “dais” and “audience area” had been sketched over the village square, with additional notes scribbled along the margins.
“As you can see, the earl and I have been working,” Lady Vernon drawled. “A hustings doesn’t plan itself, after all.”
Heat rushed into Evie’s cheeks. She recognized James’s handwriting on a separate sheet of paper: tasks to accomplish before the debate.
His pen, moist at the tip, lay next to the list. Simultaneously, she registered the beverage sitting next to it: coffee, not champagne.
The stage wasn’t set for seduction…but business?
Lifting her gaze to her hostess’s, she saw amusement laced with understanding, and her humiliation grew.
She’d acted like a jealous fishwife…like the veriest fool.
She’d shown up uninvited to a lady’s house, looking like something the cat dragged in—literally—and made rude and unfounded accusations.
In the taut silence, she heard water plop from her gown onto the pristine Aubusson.
By the blooms. What have I done?
She risked a peek at James. He stared back with scowling displeasure.
The butler returned. “Supper is ready to be served—”
“Thank you for your hospitality, Lady Vernon.” Steel threaded James’s voice as he gripped Evie’s arm. “Regrettably, my wife and I will not be staying. It is late, and we have a rather long journey ahead of us.”
Back in the carriage, Evie’s courage deserted her, and she retreated into silence. Grim-faced, James also said nothing. The storm outside matched the one brewing between them, thick and charged and impossible to escape.
The storm kicked up its heels and did a mad jig across the countryside. Knowing when to concede defeat, James directed Jeffries to stop at the nearest lodging. The inn they came upon was like a barrel of lamprey, with rain-slicked travelers crammed together and vying for one of the last chambers.
James secured the last suite. It cost double the usual, but he didn’t give a damn.
His inner tempest was fiercer than the storm.
Alone with Evie in their cozy quarters, he didn’t know where to begin.
She, on the other hand, seemed utterly calm—practically detached.
She toweled off her hair and explored the snug space, as if she’d never seen a finer chamber in her life.
As he fought to control his temper, she fetched a fresh cloth and held it out to him.
“Would you like a towel?”
It was the politeness, the wifeliness of her inquiry as if everything were normal between them, that made him snap.
“No, I would not like a bloody towel,” he bit out. “What I would like is to know why you behaved like a Bedlamite this evening.”
Her eyes went huge in her pale face. “That is uncalled for.”
“On the contrary,” he said severely. “How else would you describe your behavior? You show up uninvited to Lady Vernon’s tonight. Then, when she graciously overlooks your appalling manners and invites you to supper, you insult her.”
“She was not being gracious. She was showing off,” Evie argued. “Flaunting her poise and sophistication.”
“You are being ridiculous,” he said shortly.
“And you are being an idiot.” Evie had the audacity to glare at him. “How is it that you are a brilliant man when it comes to politics, but an absolute lummox when it comes to women?”
That hit a nerve. The truth always did.
“You are not the only one questioning my judgment when it comes to females,” he shot back. “I’ve been questioning my own choices of late.”
Evie jerked as if he’d slapped her.
“It is too late for regret, isn’t it?” she said bitterly.
“Do you regret marrying me?”
He fired the question like a bullet. It was, he realized, the one he’d been afraid to ask. But now he would have the answer once and for all.
“Are you angry with me, Evie? Have I failed you in some way?” he pushed.
“Is that the cause of your coldness? At times, you seem to hold some affection for me. But at others…like tonight.” He raked a hand through his hair.
“You know I need Lady Vernon’s help. Her support is critical to winning the election. Why would you try to sabotage this?”
“Because Lady Vernon doesn’t want to see you get elected, James. She wants to see you get undressed.”
At his wife’s acerbic reply, James stilled.
“I beg your pardon?” he said slowly.