Too Wicked To Kiss Part 23

"Even Susan said she isn't ready."

"That's irrelevant. You'll recall I also asked you whether Lioncroft would hang for his crimes."

Evangeline took a breath. "He didn't kill Lord Hetherington." Probably Probably.

Lady Stanton arched a thin brow. "Did you see that in a vision?"

"No."

"Then you don't know that, do you? That was another agreement unfulfilled. We are running short on time, but Susan will wed Lioncroft with or without your help."

"You don't even know if he's a coldhearted killer," Evangeline pointed out.

Lady Stanton lifted a dainty shoulder. "You just said he wasn't."

"You don't believe me!"

"Miss Pemberton, do try to view the world as an adult. Susan has ruined her chances with respectable gentlemen, and I refuse to allow her to grow into an old maid, like you'll undoubtedly become. Lioncroft is the rich, attractive, intelligent son of a respected viscount. He'll have to do. Another strand of pearls, girl. I'm to be the mother of a bride."

"You are not," Evangeline snapped. "He doesn't want her."

Lady Stanton's smile could freeze lava. "That hardly matters."

Evangeline threw out her hands. "Of course it matters. He's in charge of himself, and he's quite determined to remain a bachelor."

"I'm even more determined that he shall wed my daughter." Lady Stanton frowned. "Look, you've dirt on Susan's gown. I have never seen seen such a ragam.u.f.fin-" such a ragam.u.f.fin-"

"You don't understand." Evangeline resisted the urge to peer at her reflection. "He knows about your stratagem and is unimpressed. Mr. Lioncroft refuses to marry Susan, with or without a compromise."

"And how would you know this if you weren't sneaking around with him unattended, you little strumpet? If you had a reputation to ruin, you would've done so long ago. Don't look at me like that-it's true. You are a n.o.body, and shall remain so until you die. I know it; you know it; Lioncroft knows it. Why else would he be sniffing around you, but to rut without fear of the parson's trap? You're practically servant cla.s.s, Miss Pemberton. I'm sure he entertains himself with the maids whenever he pleases, so why should you be any different? You are not the sort of chit a man of n.o.ble blood marries. True gentlemen-those who belong in Polite Society-settle down with young ladies like my Susan. She is beautiful, well-bred, well-educated, lineaged, and rich. You are none of those things. You are nothing."

"I am nothing?" Evangeline advanced forward until she loomed behind Lady Stanton and the perimeter of the vanity's looking gla.s.s was filled with her dirtstained gown. "I am Evangeline. I am a woman. I am a daughter. I am a person. I've spent my entire life helping other nothings like me improve their lives. You've never helped anyone but yourself."

"And my daughter. She and I are my primary concerns, and we should be yours as well. Those of your cla.s.s should seek to enhance the lives of their betters, not selfishly dwell on your own lot. If you had a thoughtful bone in your body, you would cease being so impertinent and start helping me match Lioncroft with Susan. I command you to do so."

A choking laugh escaped Evangeline's throat. "You command me? In penning a letter to my stepfather, you've long since compromised whatever leverage you might've once had. I owe you nothing."

"Except the clothes on your back."

"I owe them to Susan, not you. However, if you so choose, you can have them."

"What are you going to do, run about naked? I suppose you might catch Lioncroft's eye that way, slattern that you are. Mark my words, in his eyes you're nothing more than a temporary outlet for his pa.s.sion-if that. How anyone can look at you and see something besides a pathetic guttersnipe is beyond me. Perhaps Lioncroft is afflicted with excess virility. You'd better continue wearing Susan's clothes for the duration. Unfas.h.i.+onable as they are, I daresay you've never worn anything half so dear. You ought to be kissing my toes."

"Kissing your-"

A knock interrupted a bout of spluttering Evangeline had meant as an outraged tirade. She stalked across the room and flung open the door without asking Lady Stanton's permission.

Carefully avoiding casting his gaze about the frozen countenances of the persons within, the footman handed Evangeline two squares of paper and quickly took his leave.

"Well, you meddlesome creature, what is it?"

Evangeline tossed the missive marked "Lady Stanton" to the floor and unfolded the one bearing her own name.

DEAR M MISS P PEMBERTON,JANE H HETHERINGTON CORDIALLY INVITES YOU TO JOIN IN THE CELEBRATION OF HER THIRTEENTH BIRTHDAY. WE SHALL MEET OUTSIDE THE FRONT GARDEN FOR A PICNIC AT ONE O'CLOCK, FOLLOWED BY KITE-FLYING AND PALL-MALL.YOURS SINCERELY, JANE.

"Maid," Lady Stanton ordered. "Fetch me that paper."

The lady's maid flashed Evangeline an inscrutable look before placing pearls and hairbrush atop the vanity in order to retrieve the fallen paper. Evangeline imagined she'd strangle her mistress with those pearls if she could.

"One o'clock," Lady Stanton exclaimed. "But that's barely an hour from now. I must finish my toilette. Make yourself useful for once, Miss Pemberton. Go see that Susan is looking her best. She has a husband to catch."

Evangeline shook her head. "I won't help you."

"Fine." Lady Stanton sniffed. "I'm sure we don't need you. Susan can ensnare him entirely on her own."

Probably so. And for some reason, that made Evangeline feel...ill.

At first, Evangeline had no intention of visiting Susan. But as her fury was at the mother and not the daughter, her desire to speak to a friend outweighed her desire to spite Lady Stanton.

First and foremost, she needed to change into fresh garments. She selected the most flattering gown in the dressing room. Not because Lady Stanton had called her a ragam.u.f.fin incapable of catching Mr. Lioncroft's eye. Because she wished for a fresh gown, that's all.

As to Evangeline's hair, well...as usual, there wasn't much that could be done with it, but she spent the better part of an hour sitting stock still so Molly could give the tangled ma.s.s her best effort. Not because Lady Stanton had called Evangeline an urchin useful only as a receptacle for Mr. Lioncroft's excess virility. Because her chignon had disintegrated earlier in the day and she happened to have time to fix it before the picnic, that's all. Well, somewhat fix it. Her hair managed to look...chignon-esque. Most of the pins were even staying put.

After thanking Molly for repairing her unruly locks twice in the same morning, Evangeline squared her shoulders and stepped out into the hall.

Susan glided directly toward her, looking every inch the well-put-together figure of Quality her mother had proclaimed her to be.

"There you are!" She fell into step alongside Evangeline. "Did you see Jane's invitation? I looked for you after breakfast and couldn't find you anywhere."

"I was...chatting with your mother," Evangeline hedged. "I did receive the invitation. It was darling. Are you on your way to the picnic now?"

"I was hoping we would both be." Susan linked arms with her. "You know how I am with directions."

"The front gardens mean the front lawn," Evangeline explained, careful not to smile. "It's the first thing we'll see when we exit the house."

"Yes, well, easy for you to say. And what were you discussing with Mother? Please don't say I'm to be compromised during the picnic. She already informed me today was The Day, come h.e.l.l or high water, but honestly...I should like to eat a sandwich or two before linking my name with Lionkiller's forevermore."

So today really was The Day. Evangeline forced her teeth to unclench. "Please stop calling him Lionkiller. I doubt he's the murderer."

"Truly?" Susan gaped at her. "Did you have a vision? Or are you just saying that because you've made friends?"

Friends? Evangeline bit back a humorless laugh. Did friends plaster each other against the nearest wall and melt into each other's kisses? Did friends demand services from each other in exchange for boons; visions for freedom, vindication for coach fare? She shook her head. Her relations.h.i.+p with Mr. Lioncroft might be indefinable, but whatever they were-they weren't friends.

Susan's spectacles b.u.mped Evangeline's ear as she leaned over to whisper, "Do you think he'll be a gentle lover?"

Evangeline stumbled to a stop. "What?" "What?"

A violent blush crept up Susan's cheeks. "It's just, the thought of bedding a husband is daunting enough, without having the husband be a vicious blackguard. When I think of our wedding night, I...Don't scowl at me so, I didn't say 'Lionkiller,' I said 'vicious blackguard.' You cannot deny his temper-he admits the flaw himself." Susan's voice lowered even more. "I have heard there is pain under the best of circ.u.mstances, and I cannot imagine the lovemaking skills of a recluse like Lioncroft being the best of anything."

"I disagree," Evangeline muttered, leaning one shoulder against the nearest wall and closing her eyes tight.

She didn't have to imagine Mr. Lioncroft being the best of anything. She well knew it from experience. The very thought of his kisses weakened her limbs and heated her flesh. And the thought of him sharing those selfsame kisses with Susan...for the rest of their lives...Angels above, it was enough to make a woman scream.

Not because of Susan's blithe comments, exactly-she was a friend, and as such, Evangeline wished the best for her. And not because she wanted Mr. Lioncroft for herself; there were any number of reasons why they could never be together, and not a single reason to suggest they could. But...oh, very well.

A part of her did did want Mr. Lioncroft for herself, despite him being an arrogant rogue with little to recommend him as husbandly material. But he was the son of a viscount and she was the daughter of a-of a-tatterdemalion gypsy, who had pa.s.sed down to her daughter untamable hair and a so-called Gift. And a streak of independence, and twenty years of unconditional love, and a value system requiring her to use her talent to better the lives of those who did without, who judged each other on their own merit rather than a hierarchy of inherited t.i.tles as prescribed in want Mr. Lioncroft for herself, despite him being an arrogant rogue with little to recommend him as husbandly material. But he was the son of a viscount and she was the daughter of a-of a-tatterdemalion gypsy, who had pa.s.sed down to her daughter untamable hair and a so-called Gift. And a streak of independence, and twenty years of unconditional love, and a value system requiring her to use her talent to better the lives of those who did without, who judged each other on their own merit rather than a hierarchy of inherited t.i.tles as prescribed in Debrett's Peerage Debrett's Peerage.

Yes, despite her shameless complicity in Mr. Lioncroft's intoxicating kisses, he was unquestionably the wrong sort of man for a woman determined not to have any any man, for fear she relive her mother's mistakes. And, Evangeline hated to admit, Lady Stanton was probably also right in p.r.o.nouncing Evangeline likewise the wrong woman for Mr. Lioncroft. Especially when compared to someone like Susan Stanton. man, for fear she relive her mother's mistakes. And, Evangeline hated to admit, Lady Stanton was probably also right in p.r.o.nouncing Evangeline likewise the wrong woman for Mr. Lioncroft. Especially when compared to someone like Susan Stanton.

Who now poked Evangeline in the shoulder and sang out, "I'm still waiting..."

Evangeline opened her eyes. "For what?"

"For an explanation, of course. I said I could not imagine Lioncroft's lovemaking. You said, 'I disagree.' A more intriguing phrase has never been spoken. Do continue."

"I said that?" Evangeline pushed off from the wall and started walking again. "If so, that's all I meant to say. In fact, I'm fairly certain I didn't even mean to say that much."

Susan rushed to keep up with Evangeline's increased pace. "Well, if you won't be forthcoming on your own, I shall be forced to ask questions based on your response. Do Do you think about Lioncroft's lovemaking?" you think about Lioncroft's lovemaking?"

"I-what?"

Prurient curiosity laced Susan's tone. "Have you and he..."

"No!" Although this lack owed more to his gentlemanliness than to Evangeline's guardians.h.i.+p of her maidenhood. "I've-I've only even been kissed by one man."

Susan huffed, as though disappointed. "So his style of lovemaking was supposition on your part."

"I..." Evangeline stared at her for a moment before facing forward once again and striding down the hall with a vengeance.

Within seconds, Susan re-linked her arm with Evangeline's and slowed the pace to a more manageable saunter. "While we are admitting suppositions, I will admit I don't imagine him to be a gentle lover. He is a publicly acknowledged brute, and brutes are not known for gentleness. Do you suppose otherwise?"

Evangeline supposed she'd vomit all over her nice clean dress if she was supposed to discuss in lurid detail the mechanics of Mr. Lioncroft disposing of Susan's virginity. "If I'd had any idea you wanted to have this particular conversation, I would've..."

"Would've what?"

"I don't know." Evangeline sighed. Better to finish with this topic now than to have it creep up again and again. "No, I don't suppose brutes are known for gentleness. On the other hand, I don't consider Mr. Lioncroft brutish."

"You think him gentle? gentle?"

"Hardly." Evangeline paused to consider what she truly felt about the gentleness or lack thereof in Mr. Lioncroft's manner. The very thought of those stolen moments increased the beating of her traitorous heart. "Gentleness isn't always preferable, is it? I mean, surely pa.s.sion takes a middle ground. What if...what if a man desires you, despite himself? Despite yourself. What if a man wants you so much and so badly, he can't help himself from...from touching you, from grabbing you, from shutting up both of your weak objections by pressing his body to yours and kissing you senseless? Hypothetically speaking."

Susan shuddered. "Sounds horrible. Precisely how do you define 'brutish,' Evangeline?"

"Unwanted force," Evangeline responded promptly. "If you're screaming and crying and fighting back and he forces himself upon you anyway, that's brutish and wholly unacceptable under any circ.u.mstance. But if you secretly kind of like like finding yourself up against the wainscoting when he can't keep his lips from yours a moment longer-" finding yourself up against the wainscoting when he can't keep his lips from yours a moment longer-"

"Who in the world would like like something like that?" Susan laughed and shook her head. "Consummation is supposed to happen in the bedroom, Evangeline. Lying down. At night. With the candles unlit. You close your eyes, he does his bit, and if you're lucky enough to bear heirs right away, he leaves you in peace. Then you go shop or something. Perhaps take tea." something like that?" Susan laughed and shook her head. "Consummation is supposed to happen in the bedroom, Evangeline. Lying down. At night. With the candles unlit. You close your eyes, he does his bit, and if you're lucky enough to bear heirs right away, he leaves you in peace. Then you go shop or something. Perhaps take tea."

Evangeline rounded the next corner, steering Susan into the marble tiled anteroom. "I'm not sure it works exactly like that."

"Of course it does. Mother told me so. And she has more experience with marriage than you and I combined."

"That may be, but..." Evangeline bit her lip. As ill-suited as she and Mr. Lioncroft might be, he and Susan would be an equally disastrous match if Susan flung herself into a binding contract with a husband who terrified her. Evangeline didn't want either of them locked into an unhappy marriage. "What I'm saying is, I don't think he's as bad as you think. I don't think he's really bad at all. He may have a temper, yes. But from what I've seen, his temper gets the best of him when he's protecting those he cares about. Like his family. And if you"-Evangeline choked on the word-"marry him, you will also be family. Which would mean he would use his strength to protect you, not hurt you. I imagine him to be the sort who would fiercely cherish a wife. If a woman could get him to want one."

"But he won't want me!" Susan blocked Evangeline from opening the front door. "Mother plans to force him. I won't be cherished. I will be quashed."

"n.o.body will be quashed. Mr. Lioncroft isn't the sort of man to be forced into anything he doesn't want to do, false compromise or no." Evangeline hoped. "Your mother knows he doesn't plan to marry unless he chooses chooses to marry." to marry."

Susan's shoulders slumped. "Then how am I to trap him?"

"You cannot trap him," Evangeline blurted out. "That is to say, you oughtn't trap him. Or any man. You can only...You can only"-angels above, how could she have this conversation without retching?-"entice him."

A frown creased Susan's brow. "Entice him how?"

"By being yourself. By letting him be himself. By talking talking to him. Getting to know him. And seeing if you like the person who he is inside." Evangeline tugged on the door handle. "And vice versa." to him. Getting to know him. And seeing if you like the person who he is inside." Evangeline tugged on the door handle. "And vice versa."

"I don't know." Susan stepped aside. "Sounds complicated."

Evangeline pushed upon the front door and led the way from the porch to the front garden.

Jane Hetherington bounded up to them, face flushed and eyes sparkling. "Just in time! Uncle sent me to fetch you. We're four to a blanket. Five if you count the twins as two people, which n.o.body ever does. I'm afraid you must mingle separately, however, as one remaining seat is with me and Uncle Lion croft, and the other with Mother. The third blanket is already full with Lady Stanton and the Rutherfords. Did you see my jewelry? Look!" She beamed at them both while pointing toward her neck. "A cunning little portrait-locket. There's no portrait yet, but there will be soon. And I'm to have a new wardrobe as well. I'll look just as smart as you, Miss Stanton!"

Evangeline tried not to be wounded at being excluded from this last statement. She couldn't deny the truth of it, having left such a trail of hairpins from her bedchamber to the front gardens that even someone as directionally inept as Susan would be able to use them as a path back to the guest quarters. So much for looking a fraction as elegant as the ever-coiffed soon-to-be Mrs. Lioncroft. Evangeline's stomach roiled.

"Go on, then." She nudged Susan with an elbow and tried to keep the peevishness from her tone. "Sit with him and Jane and Nancy. I shall sit with Mr. Teasdale, Lady Hetherington, and the twins." Under no circ.u.mstance would she sit with Edmund Rutherford, who even now leered at her from behind a silver flask.

"I don't know," Susan stammered, but already Jane was tugging her toward the square of red cloth where Mr. Lioncroft lounged in conversation with his niece Nancy.

Evangeline began a solitary trek to the far corner of the gra.s.s where Lady Hetherington was making a valiant effort to wrestle two blond tornadoes onto a picnic blanket. This would be fun. This would would be fun. She loved children. She'd hardly be missing anything by not sharing Mr. Lioncroft's blanket. And even if she was...well, self-sacrifice made her a better person. Wasn't that what Mama always said? be fun. She loved children. She'd hardly be missing anything by not sharing Mr. Lioncroft's blanket. And even if she was...well, self-sacrifice made her a better person. Wasn't that what Mama always said?

Besides, Evangeline had a mystery to solve. She could begin by questioning Lady Hetherington. With any luck, she'd oust the true killer before the last canape was eaten and be well on her way from Blackberry Manor, never to be seen or heard from again.

Evangeline smiled grimly as Mr. Lioncroft rose to help Susan onto their shared blanket. By leaving so soon, she'd have to miss the upcoming nuptials.

Pity.

Chapter Seventeen.

Why the h.e.l.l was he picnicking with the Stanton chit instead of Miss Pemberton?