The Deception (Baron 3)

“I suppose I must be relieved that you didn’t go into a good deal of detail.”

“Why don’t you think I did? She’s my mother, after all. She admires me, tells me that I can do no wrong at all.”

“That is quite true,” Marianne Clothilde said. “But he’s my son. What’s a mother to do with such a splendid son?”

Evangeline groaned, the duke tossed Edmund once into the air, and Marianne Clothilde said, “Do come and sit down, Madame. I will ring for tea. May I call you Evangeline? Madame surely doesn’t fit on an earth that is round.”

“I don’t know, Grandmama,” Edmund said, frowning. “Mrs. Raleigh is always so certain when she tells me.”

“Round, Edmund,” the duke said. “Round.” “Yes, Papa. Grandmama, did Papa tell you that I’m the finest shot in the country?”

“He did say that you had cleanly shot Rex the peacock at least a dozen times.”

“Yes,” Edmund said, then gave a big yawn. Evangeline leaned down and pushed his face up with her fingers. “Now, I want no arguments. You’re as tired as your papa. Because you’re young, you’ll get to go with Ellen to the nursery and rest for just a little while.”

The duke lifted his son back into his arms. “No, I’ll take him to Ellen. Yes, I’ll come back. I won’t leave you to the dragon here. Mother, don’t frighten her to her toes while I’m gone.”

“But, Papa, what about my story? I’m ready to tell Grandmama more of my story.”

“You will, after you’ve reposed yourself.” He said from the doorway, “I’ll tell Grayson to bring tea.”

He left the young lady with her, quite alone. Marianne Clothilde prayed that this was the right woman for her son, prayed with all her heart. She gave her a charming smile that was quite natural. “Do sit down, Evangeline. Did you ride the entire time with Edmund?”

“All but one hour when I had the headache. His grace insisted that I ride with him.” “Ride with him?” Marianne Clothilde said. To her delight, Evangeline flushed. “You see, the duke was riding his beautiful stallion, and he said—in any case, I rode seated in front of him. That was all, your grace, truly.”

But it wasn’t all, Marianne Clothilde saw, and was immensely pleased. She said, “It’s nearly impossible to say no to my son. He’s very forceful upon occasion.”

“Yes,” Evangeline said. “I have found that to be true.” Actually, he hadn’t forced her to do anything. Indeed, nothing at all had happened. Evangeline had leaned back against him, in the circle of his arms, and slept soundly. She hadn’t felt so safe in a very long time.

Marianne Clothilde patted the seat beside her, and Evangeline unfastened her cloak, laying it over the back of a chair, then sat down. Now, this was a very nice thing, Marianne Clothilde thought. The young lady had an elegant slim figure that, truth be told, was very much like her own—even to her very full bosom. She supposed that the gown had been Marissa’s, poor foolish girl.

“Actually, Evangeline,” Marianne Clothilde said after a moment, “my son finally admitted to me that he’d given you orders, quite in his best lord-of-the castle manner. As I recall, he came very close to snarling.”

“Oh, no,” Evangeline said. “He didn’t mean to do that precisely. He’s so very used to having everyone obey him instantly. It’s just that I couldn’t allow him to at that particular moment. That is—”

“I know. My son has been kind to you, all sweetness.”

“I’ve not ever known him to be sweet. That’s not in his character. He’s more often jesting to get his way, that, or he frowns at you, knowing that only a fool would dare to go against him and— Oh, dear, I don’t mean to insult your son, your grace. Truly, the duke has been very solicitous toward me. Yes, that’s the right word. He wouldn’t resent being called solicitous. Would he?”

Marianne Clothilde patted Evangeline’s cl

asped hands. “We will ask him. You don’t yet know me well enough, but I will tell you the truth. My son and I are very much alike, for better or for worse. You, my dear Evangeline,” she continued without pause, “are feeling very guilty, aren’t you?”

How could she possibly know?

When she said, “Yes, I suppose that I am,” she sounded terrified.

“You’re part of the family. You belong here for as long as it pleases you. Incidentally, Marissa’s gown becomes you. It’s an excellent color for you. I fancy Dorrie altered it for you?”

“Yes, she’s quite good.”

“I know. I realized that a very long time ago. I was the one who assigned her to Marissa. Marissa liked her very much.”

A tall, plump man with a headful of thick reddish-white hair came into the drawing room, carrying a heavy silver tea service in his black-clad arms. He had very thick dark red eyebrows that looked perpetually arched, making him look mildly surprised.

“Ah, Grayson, you’ve brought sustenance.”

“Yes, the kind of sustenance that pleases you, your grace.” He set the tray down on the table in front of them.