Chapter 7
Chapter
Seven
E vangeline could not believe what had just occurred.
She stood in the fountain, knee-deep in water that smelled vaguely of weeds and reminded her of the lake back home in the country where she and her sisters often swam.
As warm as the day was, the water was chill, and goosebumps rose on her skin. She watched Lord St. George lift the little fish that had sloshed outside the fountain before tossing it back into the water with a plop.
“Thank you, my lord.”
“Evangeline, what has happened?” her sister gasped, rushing toward her—but Lord St. George was already there.
His eyes were wide, his mouth drawn into a tight, distressed line as he reached for her. His hands clasped her waist, and Evangeline fought to ignore the wicked longing that tore through her at the touch. He lifted her from the fountain as though she weighed no more than a feather. Unfortunately, she slipped as she tried to assist, and she landed hard against his chest.
She reached for his shoulders, clinging tightly as her body pressed into his. He was all warm, solid, muscular man—as she already imagined—and her heart beat erratically within her chest. “Forgive me, my lord. I am not making this easy for you.”
Without a word, he scooped her up into his arms and carried her to a nearby bench, away from the water. She dripped over him, her gown utterly ruined, yet he did not seem to mind. He set her down and stood back, shrugging off his coat before placing it gently around her shoulders.
Evangeline looked down and gasped.
Her gown—soaked through—was nearly transparent. Her breasts, and in particular her nipples, stood erect in the chilled fabric.
She yanked the jacket closed, mortification burning through her body. As cold as she was, heat prickled her skin and flooded her cheeks.
“Thank you, Lord St. George. We shall return your jacket once it is laundered, but I fear we must take our leave before anyone sees what has happened here today. May I impose upon you to ask our driver to come around to the mews? We shall depart from there.”
“Of course I can arrange that, Your Grace.”
The duchess turned to her sister and gave her a comforting smile. “Come, dearest. We’ll walk through the gardens to the mews and leave quietly. No one shall know what happened. Even if it was an accident, I think this is best.”
“Of course,” Evangeline whispered, humiliation still thudding through her veins. Dear Lord, what had he seen?
Everything. He saw every little bit of your breasts, Evangeline—and possibly other parts of you as well. Thank goodness his jacket is long enough to offer some form of decency.
She inwardly cringed and feared the expression had crossed her face.
“There is no harm done,” his lordship said, reaching out a hand to help her stand.
As much as she did not wish to take it—not because she didn’t want to touch him, but because it would mean looking at him, and that was unbearable—she placed her gloved hand in his.
What must he think of her?
Was he as mortified as she was? Or worse—did he find her lacking?
She wasn’t as well-formed as other ladies in London. In fact, she had often lamented that she was not as womanly as her elder sister. Did he not like what he saw?
Evangeline shook the absurd thoughts for her mind. What did it matter if he liked or disliked what he saw. He should not have seen anything at all!
“Thank you, my lord. That is very kind.”
“It is no trouble.” He turned and left them for several moments, no doubt going to give instructions to the footmen.
“Dearest, your gown…” her sister whispered when they were alone.
“I know. It’s transparent.” Tears blurred her vision, and she blinked them away, determined to maintain her composure. “I think he’s seen everything there is to know about me now. I wish to cease existing—I’m so humiliated.”
“Now, now.” Rosalind gave her a quick hug, knowing they didn’t have long before the earl returned. “All will be well. He is Ravensmere’s friend and will not say a word to anyone. Try not to dwell on it. Think of it as an unfortunate—perhaps even amusing—incident during your first Season.”
“That is easier said than done, Rosalind. It did not happen to you.”
Her sister sighed, then led her toward a door that opened into the gardens. “I have not told you or anyone this, but early in my Season last year, I threw myself at the duke beneath a willow tree. Thankfully, he did not shame me and was a gentleman about it all, just as Lord St. George is being now. Things happen in life that shock, shame, and stir the soul—but they’re not worth your worry. Not when the man in question is honorable. He shall not speak a word about your tumble into his fountain.”
At her sister’s phrasing, Evangeline couldn’t help herself. She laughed, covering her mouth with her soggy gloved hand, the amusement bubbling out of her. “He must think I’m the most uncoordinated, useless female he’s ever met.”
“Why ever did you startle so at my voice? Unless…” Rosalind arched a brow. A look Evangeline did not like and one she also did not wish to answer.
“You were up to something with his lordship that would otherwise not be allowed?”
The heat on Evangeline’s cheeks burned hotter. “Of course not. We were merely talking.”
“A lot can be said with just a few words, sister.”
The sound of quickened bootsteps reached them, and they both turned as Lord St. George returned.
“Come. I shall escort you to the mews. Your driver is already en route.”
“Will you please give our thanks and apologies to your mama, my lord?” the duchess asked. “She’s probably wondering what happened to us.”
“I shall speak with her after I see you safely away. But do not distress yourself. My mother will understand once I explain.”
“I’m so very sorry,” Evangeline said as their carriage came into view, rolling to a stop before the mews. The driver jumped down and set the steps, waiting patiently beside the open door. “I’ve wet your clothing, and I do hope I haven’t injured your fish. Will you check to make sure I didn’t land on one in my clumsiness?”
“Of course.”
He smiled—a small, charming response—and Evangeline fought not to think of how well the earl now knew her. How privy he was to her every curve, her everything…
“I will never tell a soul, my lady. You have my word.”
“Thank you.” Heat flushed her cheeks again as he clasped her hand and helped her step into the carriage. Her sister sat across from her, watching their exchange with far too much interest.
“Thank you again, Lord St. George. We shall see you at dinner tomorrow evening, as planned.”
“You will indeed,” he replied to the duchess.
The earl stepped back, and the carriage lurched forward. Evangeline exhaled, relieved not to be facing the man who had seen her practically naked.
She cringed, closing her eyes. Dear Lord, she would never recover from this.
“Would you like to sit beside Lord St. George at dinner tomorrow? You seem to be becoming fast friends, and I believe he likes you.”
“No. I do not wish to sit beside him. He practically saw me naked, Rosalind. I don’t know how I’ll face him again—never mind try to speak to him.” For all his kind words, a man who was not her husband had seen her intimately. How was she ever to recover from that?
“It is not so very bad. Open the jacket and let me take a look at you.”
Evangeline hesitated, then opened the coat.
Her sister’s eyes widened, and she quickly waved her hands. “Cover yourself again, dearest. I do not need to see any more.”
“You see? It’s as bad as I thought.” She threw herself back into the squabs, the urge to stomp her foot at the unfairness nearly impossible to resist.
“His lordship said he wouldn’t tell anyone, and I believe him. Yes, he’s seen all of you—but mayhap it will spark his interest.”
“Do not play matchmaker, Rosalind. I doubt I can even look at him again without thinking of this—never mind trying to make him court me.”
“And if he wants to court you? What will you do then?”
Evangeline fell quiet. What would she do? Did she want him to become one of her suitors? She had teased him about it, but had she been wishing—deep down—that it were true?
What would she do indeed? “I have no idea.”