To put a better face on it, he reminded himself that he didn’t want her to stay by herself at Chesleigh, her only companion his young son. And, he admitted to himself, although it was difficult to do, he didn’t like having anyone go against his wishes, particularly when they were benign, well thought out, and really quite nice.
“I would worry about you,” he said finally. “No, I won’t allow it. Both you and Edmund will come with me to London tomorrow.”
She was desperate. She’d pleaded with him, and it hadn’t worked. She drew a deep breath and said in a cold voice, “I see. The lord’s orders. Well, your grace, if you won’t allow me to remain at Chesleigh, with Edmund, then I must leave. I won’t go to London.” “You don’t have anyplace else to go. Of course you will do as I tell you.”
“You’ve become a blockhead, your grace. It no longer will concern you where I go or what I do.”
He rose, facing her down the long expanse of table. “I’ve had quite enough of this, Evangeline. I don’t know why you’re being so stubborn about this. Tell me why, right now.”
“I hate London. I refuse to go there.” “You’ve never been to London.” “It doesn’t matter. I won’t go.” “Sit down and eat your dinner. You’re distraught. You’re becoming hysterical. It isn’t appealing. I will speak to you of this later.”
Evangeline didn’t move a hair. “No, you will not. Listen to me, you cannot give me orders. I’m not one of your servants. However, like Bunyon, perhaps I would like to strangle you with your cravat.” He was seated again, his arms folded over his chest, unmoving. “Very well,” she said. “I can see from that cold, set look on your face that you won’t change your mind.” She tossed her napkin onto the plate.
“I bid you good-bye, your grace. It has been something of an experience, albeit a very short one.” He bounded from his chair, toppling it to the carpet. “Damnation, Evangeline. You’re not going anywhere. You take one step and I’ll take a birch rod to you.”
She laughed at him. “Go to the devil,” she said, turned on her heel, and walked toward the door. She wondered if Bassick, all the footmen and all the maids, were waiting outside the door, wondering what was going to happen. She said over her shoulder, her voice cold and contemptuous, “If I had Edmund’s gun, I’d shoot you.”
She didn’t make it. He caught her, grabbed her by the arm, and whirled her about to face him. She didn’t struggle. She wasn’t about to waste her strength. He was furious. She could see the pulse pounding in his throat.
He shook her, leaned close to her, and said right in her face, “You won’t go anywhere. Do you understand me?”
His eyes were on her mouth. Then his eyes were on her breasts. He forgot instantly every dollop of anger at her. He couldn’t bear it. He pul
led her roughly against him, and cupped her chin in his hand, forcing her to look up at him.
Evangeline felt suspended in time. She stared up at him, all that she felt in her eyes. He kissed her, his tongue probing against her closed lips.
“Open your mouth, damn you.”
She tasted his anger, then she tasted only him and his mad desire.
It was as if he didn’t know what to do first. He kissed her, kissed her again and again. Then he pressed her back over his arm and his mouth was on her throat, her shoulders. He moaned, then jerked her beautiful altered blue gown down to her waist. He stared at her breasts, then was on her, his mouth and tongue hot on her flesh.
She was overwhelmed.
This was passion, she thought. It was nearly painful, this need in her that she recognized but didn’t understand.
Abruptly he let her go. He stared down at her blindly, trying to control himself. He buried his face in her hair. “Oh God,” he said, “I’m sorry.”
She forced herself to straighten, to move away from him. She stood there in front of him, detached, naked to the waist. It was her only chance. She had to remain at Chesleigh. She had no choice.
She looked at him as if he were nothing more than a minor annoyance to her. She looked to be utterly indifferent. She said in a light, amused voice, “I begin to think, your grace, that you have gone too long without a woman. Perhaps that is why you wish me to go to London—because there is no lady currently seeing to your pleasure? Is it that you see me as only a defenseless woman, without protection, a woman who is therefore yours for the taking?”
He drew back from her as if she’d struck him. His lust was dead; she saw only slowly building rage. She felt ill, but knew that she couldn’t back down, no matter what the outcome. She wondered, stiffening, if he would strike her.
He said finally, in a voice so soft and deadly calm that she strained to hear him, “Some women are teasing bitches. Is that what you are?” He added, his voice going lower, deeper. “You surprised me, I admit it.
“You may stay at Chesleigh if you wish. I will expect reports from you on Edmund’s progress. I bid you good night and good-bye.”
He left her standing there, her gown bunched at her waist. He didn’t look back, just quietly closed the door behind him.
She stared at that closed door. She knew in that moment, simply knew that she couldn’t betray him. She would tell him the truth. He would believe her. He and Lord Pettigrew would arrest John Edgerton. They would help free her father from Houchard. Surely it could be done.
It took her some time to get her gown back into place. She had to hurry. She had to tell him that she was meeting Edgerton in but an hour. They had to make plans. She ran out of the dining room, down the long corridor to the entrance hall, only to see Bassick standing at the great front doors, shaking his head.
She stopped, drawing a deep breath. “Is something wrong, Bassick?”
He looked at her standing there, shaking his head slowly, back and forth. “No, Madame, there is nothing wrong that either you or I can fix.” “I don’t know what you mean.” “His grace,” Bassick said. “He’s gone. Just gone, not three minutes ago.”