Chapter 10
Chapter
Ten
E zra groaned and rolled over in bed, cursing his valet, who had the audacity to throw open the curtains on what was far too bright a morning. After last night’s dinner at Ravensmere’s and several glasses of red wine, the last thing he wanted to face was daylight.
And yet, he would have to rise and get on with the day. Not to mention he should probably call on Lady Evangeline and apologize again for being such an ass.
He groaned again, cringing at what he’d said to her on the terrace. How he’d practically pickled himself in drink because he couldn’t stand watching her being courted by another.
And while part of that had to do with the fact she looked nearly identical to Luisa, another part of him was beginning to question that excuse.
Yes, she may appear the same—visually at least—but her character was different in almost every way. While Luisa had been strong-willed, that was only prevalent with those she trusted. Lady Evangeline, however, was bold without hesitation no matter what situation she found herself in. She spoke her mind, was sociable, and wise, an extrovert to the core. Whereas Luisa had been a guarded soul who needed coaxing to bloom when in public.
He ran a hand through his hair and stared at the ceiling, at a loss. What was he to do with this inability to think straight when Lady Evangeline was near? She drew his eye without trying, and—damn it—he liked what he saw.
Hell, he liked her.
But he could not court her. To do so would be to place her in danger.
He’d returned to England because of what happened in Italy. Because it was safer here—for him. The lead he’d followed across the Continent on his way back to England, the one who might have revealed who killed Luisa, had grown cold. And perhaps he needed to finally let her rest.
But courting another woman? Letting someone new into his life?
No. He could not do it. He could not place another in danger, have them suffer the same fate he’d lived through—barely—already.
Not to mention Ravensmere and the duchess would never forgive him should anything befall Lady Evangeline. Nor could he forgive himself.
No.
He would have to keep his distance. Be courteous, and nothing more. No more clandestine meetings on moonlit terraces. No more wanting to kiss the chit senseless when he was in his cups.
He groaned, hating himself for the way he continually reached for her. What was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he keep his hands to himself?
Had it simply been so long since he’d been with a woman that he had no self-control? He craved feminine company. Maybe he ought to go down to Tothill Fields and slake his lust?—
The thought soured the moment he had it. No. He couldn’t do that.
His cock twitched, hard from thinking of Evangeline. With a sigh, he reached for himself, stroking his length until he was rock hard. He closed his eyes, picturing her above him, riding him with her head thrown back in ecstasy as he drove into her, hard and deep, giving her everything she wanted.
The image of her, wet from the fountain, her pink nipples tight beneath her gown. His mouth covering her pink, erect flesh made him spend.
He groaned, body shuddering as pleasure crashed over him.
Afterward, he lay still for several minutes, at a loss with his lack of control. He shook his head and rose quickly from the bed. He stripped the sheets and tossed them to the floor, then walked to his washbasin and began to clean himself up. He threw on a banyan and rang for his manservant to prepare a bath.
The day beckoned—and with it, his need to make things right with Lady Evangeline.
Before he left her alone.
For good this time.
E zra arrived at the Ravensmere household just in time for afternoon tea. A footman led him to the back parlor that overlooked the gardens, and he paused at the doorway, not wishing to intrude.
“Is there room for one more?” he asked.
Ravensmere stood, wiped his mouth with his napkin, and gestured for him to enter. “Of course. Come in, St. George. Good to see you again. We were just having tea and scones. Please, sit and join us.”
“Thank you. I think I shall.” His stomach grumbled at the sight of the scones with cream and jam. “Good afternoon, Your Grace. Lady Evangeline. I hope I find you both well.”
“We are very well, thank you, my lord,” the duchess said. Her gaze flicked between him and her sister.
The look did not bode well. He hoped neither of the ladies were getting any ideas about him courting Lady Evangeline. He would not put another in harm’s way. Even if he were no longer officially working for the Foreign Office, he still had enemies—those who sought revenge for the work he’d carried out over the years.
Whether justified or not, his past could endanger Lady Evangeline. It would endanger any woman he settled on at this point.
He needed time. A year or two at least to ensure his enemies were at a loss as to who he was or where, that his presence in London didn’t reignite old vendettas. Then—perhaps—he could think of marriage. Of children.
“We’re going on a picnic to Richmond tomorrow, Lord St. George,” the duchess said. “Would you care to join us? I’m certain Ravensmere would welcome your company.”
“Really? And why would you delightful ladies not welcome my company also?”
The duchess laughed and placed down her teacup, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Because I shall be chaperoning Evangeline while Mr. Fournier shows her about the park on horseback. The duke refuses to chaperone, so he will wait by the carriages and the picnic. You are welcome to come. We can make a merry party of it.”
Mr. Fournier.
Ezra ground his teeth.
Of all the men in London, Lady Evangeline had to entertain a Frenchman? An untitled Frenchman, at that. Even if he did own a chateau, what did that matter? France had hundreds of estates, most passed down through old merchant families, not the nobility.
Lady Evangeline ought to marry someone of her rank. Someone worthy of her name and position.
Like you?
He ignored the thought and masked his irritation with a smile. “I have not been to Richmond since I was a child. I would welcome the opportunity to ride out again. Thank you.”
“Mr. Fournier says he’s having his cook prepare a selection of delicacies for us to try. Have you ever been to France, Lord St. George?”
“I passed through briefly. Spent a day or two in Paris. A grand city, just as London is.”
“I would love to go someday,” Lady Evangeline said wistfully.
Ezra noted the soft look in her eyes and understood her longing. Most women in their society rarely had such adventures—unless their husbands were the sort to encourage it.
“Perhaps you’ll see Paris sooner than you think,” the duchess said pointedly.
Ezra schooled his expression, though Lady Evangeline blushed prettily and looked down into her teacup.
“We shall depart tomorrow at ten to arrive at the park in time for luncheon,” the duchess continued. “We’re sending our servants ahead to set everything up. You may bring a carriage or ride—whichever you prefer.”
“I shall ride down, but bring a carriage just in case the weather changes,” he said.
They enjoyed their afternoon tea and spoke of their plans for the morrow. Ezra couldn’t help but drink in the sight of Lady Evangeline each time he looked at her. Couldn’t help the push and pull that warred within him that perhaps he was being a fool not allowing himself to court her. To be near her and see if they suited. The threat that someone may be still out to rid him of this world was slim. His identity had been top secret, and few knew who he really was. Surely they would have made their presence known should he be in danger still.
Ravensmere stood. “Would you care for a glass of whisky before you go, St. George? There’s something I’d like to discuss with you if you have a moment.”
“Of course.”
Ezra stood and bowed to the ladies. “Good afternoon. I shall see you at ten tomorrow.”
His gaze slid to Lady Evangeline, who was already watching him. He swallowed hard as heat ignited low in his belly.
Then he turned and followed the duke into his study.
Ravensmere poured them each a whisky, then gestured for Ezra to take a seat before the hearth.
“I wanted to ask what you knew of Mr. Fournier. He’s new to London—wealthy and seemingly suitable—but I can’t find much about his past. No family in France, no connections of note. If Evangeline sets her cap for him, I’m worried I’ll be sending her abroad with a stranger. And I don’t like the unknown.”
“I don’t know anything of the man beyond what you’ve already stated. But I can inquire, if that’s what you’re asking.”
The duke shifted uncomfortably in his seat, but Ezra understood. He’d do the same if it were his sister.
“I wouldn’t ask otherwise. But if Evangeline misjudges his character, and it ends poorly… Rosalind would never forgive herself.”
“I understand. I’ll see what I can find. I’m sure all will be well.”
Ravensmere lifted his glass. “I do hope so.”
Ezra however, did not.