Chapter Twenty
Anthony disliked house parties.
He had disliked them before the war, disliked them after inheriting Blackwood, and disliked them now.
In his experience, several days spent trapped beneath another man's roof usually involved an exhausting combination of forced conversation, mediocre card playing, ambitious mothers, and far too much gossip.
Unfortunately, Lord and Lady Whitmore were among Blackwood's closest neighbours, and their annual summer gathering was one of those social obligations that could not be avoided without causing offence.
As the Blackwood carriage rolled through the wrought-iron gates of Whitmore Park, Anthony found himself mentally calculating how soon they could reasonably depart.
Beside him, Evangeline gazed through the carriage window.
The late afternoon sun bathed the countryside in golden light, illuminating broad lawns, ancient oak trees, and the honey-coloured stone fa?ade of the house ahead. A lake shimmered beyond the gardens while guests strolled across the terraces enjoying the pleasant weather.
"It is beautiful," she said softly.
Anthony followed her gaze. "It is."
The admission surprised him.
Perhaps because she sounded genuinely delighted. Or perhaps because he had begun seeing places differently when she was looking at them.
The thought was troubling.
The carriage slowed before the entrance steps and footmen hurried forward, opening doors and assisting guests.
Anthony stepped down first before turning to offer Evangeline his hand.
As she descended from the carriage, several nearby guests turned to look.
Anthony noticed immediately. The effect Evangeline had upon people was impossible to miss.
Her pale blue travelling dress complemented her colouring perfectly, while her golden hair gleamed beneath her bonnet in the afternoon sunlight.
Yet it was not her beauty alone that drew attention.
It was something else. It was her warmth and ease, along with the sense that she genuinely enjoyed the people around her.
Within minutes of entering the house, she was already smiling at the hostess and charming a group of elderly ladies who had somehow managed to intercept them before they reached the drawing room.
Anthony watched the exchange from a short distance away. Everyone was laughing, and Evangeline appeared relaxed and confident. It stirred a familiar mixture of pride and unease inside him. He had become alarmingly fond of seeing other people admire his wife.
The first evening passed much as Anthony expected.
Guests gathered in elegant drawing rooms illuminated by dozens of candles. Crystal chandeliers sparkled overhead while servants circulated with trays of champagne and wine. The scent of beeswax, perfume, and fresh flowers filled the air. A string quartet played softly in an adjoining room.
The company numbered nearly thirty people, including neighbouring landowners, several titled families, and a handful of London guests escaping the city for the summer.
Among them was Sebastian Ashford.
Anthony spotted his friend almost immediately.
Sebastian lounged beside a marble fireplace with the relaxed confidence of a man who regarded social obligations as entertainment rather than punishment.
His dark green coat was perfectly tailored, his cravat tied with effortless precision, and his expression suggested he had already found something amusing.
Anthony suspected he would soon discover what.
"Blackwood."
Sebastian approached carrying a glass of wine. "Still determined to look as though someone has sentenced you to hard labour?"
"I am attending a house party."
"An important distinction."
Anthony ignored him as Sebastian's gaze shifted toward Evangeline. She was speaking with Lady Whitmore near the window. As though sensing observation, she glanced across the room.
Her smile appeared immediately, and Anthony felt his heart skip a beat before he could stop it.
Sebastian grinned.
"Don't say anything," Anthony warned.
Sebastian laughed, but before he had a chance to reply, dinner was announced and the guests moved into the dining room in pairs, following the hostess's carefully arranged seating plan.
Anthony found himself seated beside an elderly countess determined to discuss medicinal herbs.
Evangeline sat several places farther down the table. Sebastian, however, had been placed directly beside Rosalind Everly. Anthony immediately suspected Lady Whitmore knew exactly what she was doing.
The hostess possessed a reputation for arranging people with suspicious efficiency, and judging by Sebastian's expression, he suspected the same.
Rosalind looked equally excited.
Anthony found himself watching them despite himself. Rosalind wore a pale lavender gown that suited her gentle beauty perfectly. Unlike Evangeline, whose warmth drew people in effortlessly, Rosalind possessed a quieter charm. At least, until someone challenged her.
Sebastian seemed to have discovered this quickly.
"You cannot seriously believe that." Rosalind's voice carried faintly down the table.
"I do."
"Then you are impossible."
Sebastian looked delighted. "I have been informed of this before."
Rosalind shook her head, but the gesture failed to conceal her smile. Anthony listened with growing amusement. Most people found Sebastian charming, but Rosalind seemed determined to find him irritating.
The result was surprisingly entertaining.
"What precisely is your objection?" Sebastian asked.
"My objection is that you speak about marriage as though it were a business merger."
"It frequently is."
Rosalind frowned. "That is an extraordinarily cynical view."
"It is an experienced one."
She folded her arms. "How depressing."
Sebastian placed a hand over his heart. "You wound me."
"I am merely being honest."
"An unfortunate habit."
Rosalind's eyes narrowed. "I am beginning to understand why Blackwood tolerates you."
Anthony nearly choked on his wine.
Sebastian looked delighted. "Do tell."
"Because no one else would."
Several nearby guests laughed, including Anthony, and Rosalind immediately looked pleased with herself.
Sebastian, meanwhile, appeared entirely too impressed.
The conversation continued throughout the meal. Every topic became a debate and every disagreement somehow produced more laughter. Neither seemed capable of leaving the other alone, and neither appeared aware of how obvious they were becoming.
Anthony glanced toward Evangeline. She had noticed as well, and their eyes met across the table. A shared smile passed between them.
Evangeline's gaze drifted briefly toward Rosalind and Sebastian before returning to him. Her expression softened.
Anthony felt a familiar warmth settle unexpectedly inside his chest. She looked happy, and increasingly, that mattered more to him than he cared to admit.
As the conversation around them continued and candlelight flickered across silver and crystal, Anthony found himself relaxing for perhaps the first time that evening.
The house party might still prove tedious, the card games would almost certainly be unbearable, and there was little chance of escaping Lady Whitmore's matchmaking ambitions.
And yet, as he watched Evangeline laughing among friends and Rosalind sparring cheerfully with Sebastian, he found himself thinking that perhaps the next few days would not be entirely unpleasant after all.
***
The following afternoon brought clear skies, mild weather, and far more opportunities for irritation than Anthony had anticipated.
Guests drifted out onto the terraces after luncheon, taking advantage of the sunshine.
Some gathered for archery on the lawns while others wandered through Lady Whitmore's extensive gardens, where winding paths led through rose-covered arbours, ornamental ponds, and carefully maintained flower beds bursting with late summer colour.
Anthony had been engaged in conversation with one of Whitmore's neighbouring landowners regarding crop yields when he first noticed Lord Adrian Pembroke.
Noticed, specifically, that Pembroke seemed entirely occupied by Evangeline.
The widower was difficult to ignore. Handsome in the polished, effortless manner that society admired, Adrian possessed sandy hair, easy confidence, and the kind of smile that appeared practiced for maximum effect.
More importantly, he appeared determined to direct that smile exclusively at Anthony's wife.
Anthony told himself it was of no consequence. After all, Evangeline was beautiful. Men were bound to notice her. This was hardly a new development, and yet he found himself watching as Pembroke offered his arm and accompanied her down one of the garden paths.
Evangeline appeared entirely at ease. She laughed at something the man said.
Anthony's jaw tightened. "Blackwood."
He looked away from the garden to find Sebastian standing beside him.
The grin already spreading across his friend's face suggested he had witnessed everything.
"You appear troubled."
I am not troubled."
"Excellent." Sebastian glanced toward the distant garden path. "Then I assume you have no objection to Pembroke monopolising your wife."
Anthony shot him a look, and Sebastian's grin widened.
"Ah."
The situation did not improve throughout the afternoon.
Everywhere Anthony looked, Pembroke seemed to be nearby.
During tea on the terrace, he sat beside Evangeline, and during a lawn game organised by Lady Whitmore, he somehow ended up on her team.
At one point Anthony emerged from the library to find them discussing travel while strolling beside the lake.
None of it was improper, which was the most irritating aspect.
Pembroke remained perfectly respectful, and Evangeline behaved exactly as she always did.
Yet Anthony found himself increasingly aware of every smile she offered the man, every laugh and moment of shared conversation.
The knowledge was deeply unpleasant. Particularly because he knew his reaction was unreasonable. Evangeline had done nothing wrong, and neither had Pembroke.
The problem, unfortunately, appeared to be entirely his own.
That evening, the guests assembled for dinner.