A Gentleman Always Remembers

by Candace Camp

  Eve, however, was certain that she could handle him. She had learned long ago how to turn aside unwelcome advances. Obviously she had not made a good start yesterday by behaving the way she had. It would be no wonder if Talbot thought the worst of her. Just recalling it made her cringe. What had she been thinking? Well, obviously she had not been. She had been too happy, too filled with anticipation at the thought of leaving the vicarage.

  More important, of course, was what was he thinking? He might consider her a possible dalliance, someone who could be easily persuaded to provide him with a few nights’ entertainment. On the other hand, he could just as easily be appalled at the thought of her chaperoning his cousins. He might have ridden in the carriage with her so that he could voice that opinion. Or maybe he would tell his brother how poorly she measured up as a guardian of impressionable young girls. How humiliating it would be if she traveled all the way to Willowmere only to have the earl dismiss her and send her scuttling back to her father’s house!

  Whatever his intentions regarding her, Eve knew that the best approach was to ward him off. She squared her shoulders and laced her fingers in her lap. Holding herself as tall and straight as Imogene, she looked at him.

  “Mr. Talbot, I want you to know that the way I acted yesterday is not my customary behavior. When I am with my brother, I tend to be more . . . carefree, shall we say, than I normally am. I would never behave in such a manner around my charges. Nor would I allow them to indulge in such behavior.”

  “Would you not? That is too bad. I found the way you behaved yesterday most enjoyable. Indeed, I had hoped that you and I could explore the streams around Willowmere in such a manner.” His eyes lit with amusement.

  Eve resisted the appeal of his twinkling eyes and replied primly, “That is not possible. As your cousins’ chaperone, I have no intention of indulging in flirtation.”

  “I am stricken.” He grinned, belying his words. “But I am willing to give up the flirtation. I had something rather more . . . pleasurable in mind.” Though he still smiled, there was now in his eyes and tone a certain warmth that was unmistakable.

  Eve flushed. She glanced away, all too aware that the heat spreading through her was not simply that of embarrassment. There was something undeniably arousing in the suggestive tone of his voice. There had been times in her marriage when Eve had wondered if she was not perhaps, well, too low in her desires, too easily aroused, too physical. Surely a true lady would be repelled by his bold words, not secretly tingling all over.

  “Mr. Talbot, you go too far,” she said in a choked voice.

  “Oh, I am certain I could go much farther.”

  A gurgle of laughter rose in Eve, but she firmly pressed it down. She suspected that she should not find Fitzhugh Talbot amusing; she was certain she should not let on that she did. Clearing her throat, she presented him with her stoniest gaze. “I fear that we are straying far from the topic.”

  “Are we? I’m sorry—what was our topic? I thought we were contemplating our behavior at Willowmere.”

  Goaded, Eve snapped back, “I wish you would cease these . . . these innuendos and games. Please tell me plainly—do you mean to tell the earl that I acted unsuitably yesterday?”

  “Good Gad, no.” His brows rose lazily.

  Eve relaxed. No doubt there were many things she had to worry about where Mr. Talbot was concerned, but at least that was not one of them.

  “Oliver would be certain I had lost my mind if I ever uttered an opinion that insipid,” he explained, and Eve had to smile. “For another, Oliver wouldn’t care a snap what I thought. He is the one who makes the decisions. I simply . . .” He made a vague wave of his hand. “. . . enjoy life.”

  “I should think everyone tries to do that.”

  “Not with the sort of dedication I devote to the subject. Indeed, there are many who do their utmost not to enjoy life.” He cocked an eyebrow. “Pray, do not be offended, but do you think that Mrs. Childe tries to enjoy life?”

  A gurgle of laughter escaped Eve’s lips. “Imogene? No. I think one can safely say that she tries very hard not to en-joy it.”

  “There. You see my point. My brother, on the other hand, does not try not to enjoy life. He simply has so many things he believes he has to do that he has little time for enjoying anything. Of course,” he added judiciously, “he would probably tell you that there is pleasure to be had in doing one’s duty. Personally I have always found that one’s duty invariably crops up at the exact moment when you are about to go out on the town with friends or attend a race, and instead you wind up visiting deaf Uncle Gerald or going to your godmother’s musicale.”

  “Or escorting chaperones.”

  “Oh, no, my dear Mrs. Hawthorne, you will get no such statement from me. I find escorting chaperones the most delightful of tasks.” His mouth curved sensuously, and his voice was almost a caress. “Especially when the chaperones are as lovely as you.”

  “I should have known better than to try to engage a flirt in an exchange of wits,” Eve said.

  “A flirt? You wound me.”

  “You are not a flirt?” Eve tossed back. “Then what would you call yourself?”

  “An admirer of all things beautiful.”

  There was a warmth in his voice that turned her insides to molten wax. Eve was suddenly aware that despite her best intentions, she had once again found herself in precisely the sort of flirtation she had been determined to avoid.

  Eve strove for a quelling tone. “Pretty words, sir, but I suspect they have been used many times before.”

  “Never with such truth.” His gaze dropped from her eyes to her mouth, and his own mouth softened.

  He wants to kiss me, Eve thought, and she realized, shocked, that she wished he would. He shifted and reached toward her. Eve’s heart slammed in her chest, and she tensed, heat surging up inside her, waiting breathlessly as if she teetered at the edge of a cliff.

  Chapter 3

  Eve’s eyes half closed in anticipation as his fingers went to the tie of her bonnet, pulling the bow apart with a single tug. He lifted the hat from her head and set it beside her on the seat.

  “There, that’s better. Now I can see your face.”

  Eve blinked, startled. Her cheek tingled where his fingers had grazed her cheek as he took off the bonnet, and her gloved hand went unconsciously to that cheek. Had he wanted to kiss her, or had that been only her imagination? She gazed out the window, forcibly gathering the threads of her composure.

  “Tell me about my charges,” she said after a moment, turning back to Fitzhugh Talbot, schooling her features to be once more polite and distant.

  “There are only two of them now. I mean, there are four sisters, but one of them has married and left Willowmere, and the other is about to be married, so you will have only two under your care. They are our cousins, who grew up in America.”

  “Who is getting married, and who will remain in my charge?” Eve asked.

  “Rose, the second oldest, married an American, and they have already gone back to that country. The eldest sister, Mary—Marigold is her full name; their mother had a fondness for flowers—is to marry Sir Royce Winslow. He is my half-brother on our mother’s side but no relation to our cousins or any of the other Talbots.”

  “It sounds complicated.”

  His mouth quirked up. “Things often seem to be that way where the Bascombes are concerned. But I think you will like them. I hope you enjoy riding. The girls adore it, especially Camellia.”

  “Yes, I do, though I have not ridden in some time.”

  “Don’t worry, you’ll soon be back to form. We go riding almost every day.”

  “We?” Eve’s pulse quickened. “You accompany the girls?’

  “Almost always. With Royce getting married, I will be their only instructor now.”

  “I see. Then you . . . expect to remain at Willowmere?”

  Eve had assumed that he would not stay, that he would depart for London as soon as he b
rought her to the estate. Surely a man such as Fitz Talbot would not be content cooling his heels in the country. He would want London, with its lure of cards and clubs and sophisticated beauties.

  His eyes went to hers, and he gave her a long, slow smile, the deep dimple springing into his cheek. “Yes. I expect to be at Willowmere for quite some time.”

  “Oh.” Eve felt caught in his gaze, faintly breathless. “I—I would have thought that you would wish to return to the excitement of London.”

  “Don’t worry.” His eyes did not leave hers, and his voice was rich with meaning. “I shall not be bored. I expect to occupy myself quite satisfactorily at Willowmere.”

  Eve looked back at him, unable to summon a reply. All an impoverished widow had to recommend herself was her reputation, and she could not allow even a breath of scandal to tarnish it. She could not let herself be led into a flirtation—or something more—no matter how handsome or charming Fitz Talbot might be.

  Eve pulled her eyes away from his, staring for a long moment at her hands clasped in her lap. When she looked up at him, her face was schooled into a polite mask, her voice colorless. “How nice. I am sure that your cousins will be most happy to have you at Willowmere.”

  His blue eyes twinkled with amusement, but he inclined his head gravely as if in acknowledgment. “I am glad you think so. Shall I tell you about Willowmere?”

  Pleased that he had accepted her rebuff, Eve listened as he launched into a description of the family estate. He told her a few interesting tidbits of the Talbot family history and also folded in points of interest in the town and surrounding countryside. He was a master of conversation, at once effortless, impersonal, and entertaining. It was easy to talk to him, and before long Eve found herself relaxing and chatting with him, the moments of tension gone.

  Before long they rolled into the courtyard of an inn to rest and water the horses, and when they resumed their journey he chose to ride outside the carriage.

  Left to her own devices, Eve gazed out the window, looking at the scenery and thinking about what lay ahead of her. It was not long, however, before she realized that it was actually Fitzhugh Talbot riding beside them that caught her eye far more than the scenery. He cut an elegant figure on horseback that was impossible to ignore. Tall and slender, with wide-set shoulders and narrow hips, he was both powerful and graceful. She could not help but notice his hands as they tightened on the reins or his muscular thighs as they gripped the sides of his mount.

  Making an exasperated sound, Eve reached up and released the leather curtain, letting it roll down to block her view. She was acting like a ninny, she told herself, as if she had never seen a handsome man on horseback before. Bruce had been a major in the Hussars, and she had seen many a superb horseman. None of them had had a face to make an angel swoon, but still . . . she should be immune to the romance of a man astride a beautiful stallion.

  She settled into the corner of the carriage seat, gazing across the carriage and out the window in the opposite direction. The night before had been a restless one, and it was not long before her eyes fluttered closed.

  She awoke when they stopped for lunch. It was a welcome respite, and after they ate, Eve was glad when Fitzhugh suggested a short walk before they returned to the carriage. As he had that morning, Fitz rode in the carriage for part of the afternoon and spent the rest of the time on his horse. It was, Eve thought, most considerate of him to give her the time by herself, but frankly, she found the ride deadly dull when he was not with her.

  The inn where they stopped for the night was pleasant and spacious, with polished oaken floors. The aroma drifting from the kitchen piqued Eve’s appetite. The innkeeper grinned from ear to ear when he saw Fitz and quickly led them up to their rooms, chatting all the way.

  Eve washed up quickly and changed into a clean dress before hurrying back downstairs to dine. She found Fitz in the dining room, and she noticed that he, too, had changed into a fresh shirt and neckcloth, this one knotted in a basic arrangement.

  “Ah, Mrs. Hawthorne.” He came forward to meet her. “What a vision you are. One would scarcely believe that you have spent the entire day on the road.”

  “I might say the same about you,” Eve replied, her eyes twinkling.

  “I did my best, though my valet would be happy to tell you that it was an inferior effort. He is always certain that I will bring disgrace on him when I travel alone. It is a wonder to him when I manage to return relatively intact.”

  They sat down to a hearty meal and began to eat. “It looks as though Stiles has outdone himself tonight,” Fitz commented. “He must have been spurred by your presence.”

  “It’s delicious.” Eve glanced at him. “He seems to know you well. You must have stopped here often over the years.”

  He nodded. “Indeed, since I was a lad. My mother and I traveled this way when she went to visit her family in Leeds. And later, after she passed away, my grandfather sent me every summer with my valet.”

  “The same one who is certain you cannot dress yourself?”

  “Oh, no. This one was more keeper than valet, really. He was one of the more disagreeable footmen, large enough to keep me in line and dour enough not to be inveigled into letting me get into some mischief or other. If there was one thing upon which my two grandfathers agreed, it was the necessity of exercising control over my adolescent personage.”

  “And were they correct?”

  “Naturally. I was an imp of Satan. Fortunately I developed this dimple at an early age.” He touched his cheek. “It saved me from many a well-deserved beating.”

  “I cannot believe you were such a scamp.”

  “I had a tendency to kick over the traces,” Fitz admitted, smiling a little. “But when one has an older brother like Oliver, there is little else one can do.”

  “He was a paragon?” Eve asked shrewdly, taking a last bite and shoving her plate aside. She settled back in her chair, taking a sip of her wine.

  “Exactly.” Fitz nodded, pleased at her understanding. “It would have been impossible to be as sober, steady, and intelligent as Oliver. Instead I turned my sights on being feckless. Fortunately I found that well within my reach.”

  A gurgle of mirth escaped Eve. “I think, sir, that you exaggerate. After all, you did perform the duty of escorting the new chaperone to Willowmere.”

  “My dear Mrs. Hawthorne, I can assure you that escorting a beautiful woman such as yourself is not an onerous duty.”

  “Ah, but as I remember, you were expecting the chaperone to be a woman ‘of advanced years.’ So your impulse could not have been so selfish.”

  He grinned. “’Tis true. I thought you would be middle-aged. Indeed, I cannot remember her specific words, but I believe that Lady Vivian gave us a rather misleading expectation of your age.”

  “Oh, dear.” Eve’s stomach fell. “Will the earl be terribly displeased when he meets me?”

  “He will not hold it against you. My brother is a very fair man.” Fitz’s grin grew. “Don’t you remember? He is a—”

  “Paragon,” Eve finished with him and smiled. “I sincerely hope he does not hold my age against me. I would hate to return to my father’s house.”

  “I should think so,” Fitz agreed candidly. “I hope it will not offend you when I say that I was there only a few minutes and I had no desire to remain.” He glanced at her mischievously. “There was not really any need for us to hurry back for the wedding. It is a week away.”

  “I, for one, am glad you said there was. But I should not speak ill of my father’s wife. It is difficult for two grown women to live in the same house, especially when they are as different as Imogene and I.”

  “I am sure I should not speak ill of her either, but I suspect it would be the end of one or the other of us if I had to live there.”

  “Sometimes I think it will be the same with us, as well.” Eve looked at him, her eyes dancing. “I am not usually so blunt. You are a very bad influence, I think.”
<
br />   “So I have been told.”

  “You look completely unrepentant.”

  He smiled at her, the aforementioned dimple creasing his cheek. “Sadly, I am that as well.” He leaned toward her, lowering his voice confidentially. “What sane man would not want to be a bad influence on such a beautiful woman as you?”

  His eyes looked straight into hers, the humor replaced by warmth. The look sent a thrill through Eve, and she felt suddenly breathless and exposed, as if he had looked deep into her and seen the hidden heat that lay there, untapped, unwanted.

  “I should go to bed now,” she said abruptly, then blushed. A lady said she was “about to retire”; she did not mention the word bed lest it inspire suggestive thoughts.

  Hastily she pushed back her chair and rose. Fitz stood with her. “Let me escort you to your room.”

  “No. I will be fine. You stay and finish your wine.”

  “There is no reason for the females to retire,” he told her lightly. “I have no need to drink a glass of port, and I’d far rather be with you.”

  Eve looked up at him, then wished that she had not, for it was hard to look away again. Fitz’s eyes were deep pools of blue, pulling her in as his face loomed closer. He was going to kiss her, she thought, and she knew that she should pull away.

  But she did not.

  His lips were soft and warm, pressing gently at first, then moving against hers, supple and insistent. Eve shivered. It had been so long since she had felt a man’s mouth on hers. After a time, Bruce had avoided even that. She had almost forgotten how it felt—or had it ever felt like this?

  Fitz’s kiss was warm and sweet, like honey in the sun. His tongue traced the line where her lips came together, sending tingles running through her. Eve’s lips opened to him, and his tongue slid in to taste and explore. Heat poured through her, startling in its intensity. She wanted to melt into him, to wrap her arms around him and press her body against his. For an instant she wavered, stunned by the pleasure rushing through her.