The Deception (Baron 3)

It was not until after the duke had dismissed the footman that he said, “What were you thinking about?”

“Nothing, really,” she said, and fell silent. She must become a liar. It would be the only way she had a chance to survive. She raised her chin as she watched him fork several slices of very thinly sliced ham onto his place. She should say something utterly boring, something that would nauseate him with its blandness, but what came out of her mouth was “I was afraid you and Edmund would freeze in that water.” “I was too, but Edmund was determined. We were only in the water for ten minutes, no more. We swim when I’m in residence here and if the weather is mild enough. It’s invigorating, to say the least. It will freeze the hide off your bones to say the best. That doesn’t sound like it makes sense, but it does. Do you understand?” “Yes.”

“Edmund and I are usually down at the cove at about the same time every morning. Oh, yes, I saw you coming out of the cave. Do have a care if you visit it again, especially when the tide is coming in. When I was a boy, I was foolish enough to hide there from my tutor, and got a good soaking. My father did too since he had to save me. I remember it was one of the very few times that he gave me a good hiding.” She smiled, trying to picture him as Edmund’s size. It wasn’t possible. “I’ll be careful. I noticed that the cave walls were damp and covered with slime. When the tide is high, it fills the cave completely?” “Very nearly.”

“It’s a pity that one can’t continue walking to the south of the cave, but the cliff juts right out into the sea.”

“Yes. But still the remaining scenery must have pleased you.” Why couldn’t he leave it alone? He was losing what little was left of his brain.

“Indeed. I never try to miss an educational opportunity.”

One of his black eyebrows shot up. “Surely I didn’t provide you with an excess of new knowledge. I’m just a man like your husband, the saintly André.”

She nearly choked on the bite of peas. She’d blundered. Lie, she thought, lie very well or you’ll sink. Her chin went up. “No, don’t be silly. Naturally you were nothing at all new to me. You were something quite old, in fact. I believe, however, that the towel you were wearing knotted around your waist was new, very new, I would say, given my examination of it. Behold. I am a woman of the world, your grace.”

“I was just thinking that,” he said and she knew he was mocking her and enjoying himself. “I knew just how worldly you were after I— No, I won’t say any more. It isn’t well done of me. Finish your lunch, Evangeline.”

She was shaking her head. “I’ve come to realize that I’m the perfect foil for you. You can sharpen your wit endlessly on me.”

“Fair is fair. It’s what my mother does to me. Now, don’t get me wrong. You’re quick, you’ve a ready tongue— No, I won’t continue along those lines. Those lines would surely bring me lower than I am right now.”

“Perhaps it’s time I left you,” she said, and prepared to rise.

“No, don’t go. I would consider it running away. Come, Evangeline, admit it. You enjoy trying to outdo me verbally.”

She settled back into her seat. She folded her hands and propped up her chin. “I try never to run away, even when it would be in my best interest. As to outdoing you, well, I have to admit that you’re not a nitwit, as I have found most Englishmen to be.”

The duke nodded agreeably. “Since you grew up in the country, in Somerset, I’m not at all surprised at your prejudice. Red-faced squires abound. Provincial locals swagger about. Little lordlings have their noses in the air and their brains beneath their boots. All in all, I would agree that the lot of them wouldn’t provide an impressionable girl exquisite examples of wit and grace and elegance.”

“As in the qualities you exemplify?”

“Certainly. I trust you say that without irony. Now, was your husband such a man like those in Somerset? Tongue-tied around you? Only dealt well with his horses? A crashing bore at dinner? Dozed in the parlor after drinking too much port?” “Certainly not. He was French.” “Shall I describe him, then? Let me see. He was short, quite dark, was thin through the chest, swaggered about on skinny legs, and undoubtedly possessed of an oily kind of charm, and didn’t bathe every day.”

Evangeline saw the hole she’d dug at her feet. She’d described her mythical dead husband, André, with Henri in mind, the young man who’d wanted her in France. The duke’s description fit him quite nicely.

“He bathed often,” she said. Then remembered that Henri was addicted to the cologne bottle. She’d hated that musky, slightly sour smell on him. She frowned. “At least I think he did.”

“You think he bathed often? Really, Evangeline, if you had half the curiosity in your husband that you have shown for me in the past two days, I can’t imagine that you would have any doubts at all on the subject.”

For a long moment she simply stared at him, knowing she was near to slipping into that hole at her feet, deeper now than it had been just a minute before. “Er, actually, André, well, I’m not really certain. You see, he was a very modest gentleman.”

“He sounds like an idiot, a—” The duke stopped, seeing that Evangeline was quite red in the face. “Forgive me,” he said, rising slowly. “He was your husband. Now, I’m off to see a new hunter. Enjoy your afternoon. My heartfelt best wishes in your time with Edmund.” He paused by her chair, looking down at her. “Is there anything I may bring you?”

Yes, she thought, he could bring her a very different life. He could bring her father freedom. He could not then look at her with hatred and contempt. She shook her head, mute.

“Very well. When I return, would you like to go riding with me? I have some business with several tenants. I can show you some of my favorite spots.” One more time, she thought. Surely it wouldn’t be horrible to have one more time alone with him. She nodded. “I should like that very much.” “Excellent. I will see you later.”

Chapter 17

“There are too many letters. I never know when one should go behind another or in front of it. And nothing that sounds right has the same letters in it. Surely I don’t need to know all those letters? Just the ones that the words sound like?”

Evangeline said as she patted Edmund’s small hand, “I know there are lots and lots of letters. I hadn’t realized that there were perhaps too many of them. You’re probably right. And there are endless combinations, Edmund. I believe you must simply forgive all the long-dead folk who came up with them, and accept that all the letters, all the strange combinations, are here to stay. You’ve no choice in the matter. You must simply gird your loins. I learned them. Surely you, as a very bright boy, can also learn them.”

He looked convinced for only a moment. Not good headway. She said then, “I thought, Edmund, that you wished to be like your father.” His whole face changed. He straightened and said in a very creditable lordly voice, “I am like my father. Grandmama has told me countless times I’m like my father and like my grandfather, and I remember him very well. He was a wonderful grandfather, but then he died, like my mama, and I didn’t see him anymore.”

“Your father knows how to read and write, as did his father before him. Your father girded his loins, stiffened his spine, and learned every letter and every combination.”

“You’re rig