Viscount Can Wait, The EPB

by Tremayne, Marie

  Her joy at being reunited with Rosa was an effective distraction from her problems . . . which consisted, most notably, of Lord Evanston. His behavior on the day of her arrival had been uncharacteristically docile, and had William known to look for signs that something was amiss, he would have noticed right away. Eliza was unsure if Clara had detected the strange friction between them, but she feared that the more she and Thomas were placed together, the more obvious it would become that there was an issue.

  Of course, she also worried about her impending conversation with him regarding her marriage prospects. The one where she would have to confess that, despite receiving numerous offers from men of minimal acquaintance, Landry had not proposed before departing London. Granted, she had essentially prevented him from officially making an offer, but this did not change the fact that Eliza was, as of yet, still unattached. It was a rather perilous position to be in with Thomas lying in wait, perhaps ready to seduce her at the first vulnerable moment.

  She and Rosa spent the next couple of days splitting their time between the Dower House and Lawton Park. Eliza anticipated this would now be the usual way of things, as her daughter had become used to the very attentive staff members, not to mention the affectionate doting of her aunt and uncle. On the morning of her third day back home, however, Patterson knocked quietly on her bedchamber door to deliver a missive.

  “A letter for you, my lady . . . from Hawthorne Manor.”

  Eliza’s fingers paused in midair, then descended the final distance to pluck the note from the maid’s awaiting hand.

  A letter from Thomas.

  “Thank you, Patterson,” she replied hastily. “That will be all.”

  She closed the door then turned to lean against it, clutching the letter tightly. An infusion of dread clutched at her chest, until she could stand waiting no more. Eliza slid a finger beneath the flap to break the wax seal, then unfolded the paper to behold a brief note, written in his hand:

  Dear Eliza,

  Would you do me the honor of joining me this afternoon?

  Yours, Evanston

  She let her head fall back and groaned aloud. The thought of seeing him again, alone . . .

  Eliza snapped up from her defeated posture. No, this would not do. She was an independent woman who had survived many situations, most recently a confrontation with his mistress. Surely, this could not be more difficult than that. Besides, she had yet to take him to task for that debacle.

  Yes, she had a few questions of her own that required answers, although his recent assistance with Caroline and her aunt complicated things a bit. She could not begin on the offensive after he’d gone to such lengths to help her.

  Eliza crossed to her vanity and safely concealed the letter inside a drawer. Then she tugged on the bellpull, taking a moment to glance at her appearance in the mirror. Having just woken up, there was much to be done.

  This ordinary day, after all, had suddenly become much more interesting.

  The moment her carriage arrived at Hawthorne Manor, Eliza wished she had stayed at home. Seeing Thomas standing at the ready to greet her caused her stomach to perform a series of slow and not unpleasant somersaults. He was dressed impeccably in a morning coat of dark blue, with an ivory waistcoat, and light trousers. She marveled at the way the dark blue suited him so well, working to highlight the azure shade of his eyes, and contrasting against the ivory in much the same way his jet-black hair opposed the color of his skin. Eliza gazed down at her own pale pink dress, hoping—although she knew she shouldn’t—that he might find it similarly attractive on her.

  Quelling her nervousness, she disembarked and approached the awaiting viscount. She glanced up at him, a small smile on her lips.

  “Lord Evanston,” she said with a curtsy.

  Thomas made his bow, a reciprocal smile lurking at the corner of his mouth. “Lady Eliza, thank you for seeing me today. I trust you and Rosa have been able to reconnect after your long summer away?” He extended his arm.

  “Yes, we have,” she answered, sliding her hand around the hard curve of his bicep. The contact set off shockwaves of delight throughout her body, which she struggled to suppress. “I have not yet had the chance to thank you for safely delivering Caroline and her aunt back to Willowford House,” she managed.

  He glanced downward as they made their way up the front steps of the house. “Your thanks are not necessary, so long as you remembered why I performed the service.”

  Her happiness rapidly transformed into displeasure, and she halted where she stood, dropping her arm and forcing him to stop as well. “Oh yes, my lord, I remembered. And I honored your request . . . perhaps jeopardizing my chances at finding a match . . . because you saw fit to—”

  Evanston’s expression was one of utter confusion, and Eliza found she could not continue her halting speech with him looking at her in that way. His perplexity finally gave way to amusement, and an irreverent grin tugged at his lips.

  “Eliza, surely you know I would have never denied you such a request. I’m not even certain I expected you to honor my condition, although I’m glad to hear you did,” he added in a low voice.

  Eliza stared at him, wanting to be angry, but feeling something else entirely. Thomas had meddled in her affairs, even after promising her he wouldn’t. He had interfered with the men pursuing her. He had tormented and annoyed her repeatedly during the season. Yet despite all this and the fact that she had rejected him, he had still chosen to help her—simply because she’d asked him to.

  She was suddenly aware that they were standing very close. As if detecting the uncomfortable course of her thoughts, he extended his arm once again in a gesture of casual familiarity.

  “I had tea brought upstairs, if you are interested.”

  A few minutes later, she was seated in his drawing room, sipping the warm drink. Eliza was thankful for the plates of tiny sandwiches and biscuits, as her state of anxiety had worked to make her more than a little hungry. Soon, they were back at ease, talking as old friends would, although Eliza couldn’t help but notice that the viscount had chosen brandy over tea. She pondered whether her company stirred him to the extent that his affected her.

  “So, tell me,” he said, leaning against the mantelpiece, taking a swallow of his drink. “How has Rosa been amusing herself? She promised to write and tell me, but alas, her busy schedule proved too demanding.”

  Eliza laughed and set her plate on the side table. “Well, as William mentioned the other day, she is quite taken with squirrels.”

  “Squirrels! Why she loves those wild rodents so much is certainly beyond me.”

  “Oh no, not at all. They are furry and delightful—”

  “So are dogs,” he replied skeptically.

  “They are apparently fine companions—”

  “As long as your pockets contain treats.”

  She surveyed him with a sigh. “Come now, Thomas. Is it any mystery how a four-year-old little girl might love a tiny woodland animal with a fluffy tail?”

  “No. In fact, I believe Rosa and squirrels share many of the same fine qualities.” At Eliza’s amused look, he clarified, “I only mean that they are both lively and fun.”

  “And adorable,” she added with a stern expression.

  He laughed. “Yes, of course.”

  Eliza sipped her tea and replaced the fine china cup back gently onto its saucer. They smiled warmly at each other for a moment.

  In truth, it had been many months since the two of them had been able to share a friendly exchange that had not been tainted by the unwise intimacies they had shared. At this moment, it seemed he was willing to ignore their differences, making this moment of unspoiled friendship a rare treasure.

  He’s buying time to seduce you.

  Caroline’s earlier warning sang insistently in her head. As much as Eliza wished he could be trusted, she had to admit this was still a possibility. Suddenly restless, she rose to go stand near the windows, her eyes taking in the considerable
natural beauty of Lord Evanston’s estate. She did not wish to ruin this moment of peace between them, but she had things to say.

  Eliza cleared her throat. “I had an unusual visitor in London. An acquaintance of yours. Or rather more than an acquaintance, I suppose.”

  A notch formed between his brows, and she could see him mentally calculating the probabilities. Finally, he relented.

  “Who was it?”

  She folded her arms across her midsection in what she guessed was a protective posture. “It was Mrs. Varnham.”

  He had no outward response, no change of expression, but his eyes glowed more vividly in concealed emotion.

  “And what was her business with you?”

  Here, Eliza hesitated. To tell him the truth might serve to paint herself in a competitive light, as a woman vying for his affection. It had the potential to ignite an already inflammatory situation. Still, she’d told him too much now to go back.

  “It seems she wished to clarify the nature of your relationship with her.”

  Thomas pushed away from the mantel to survey her closely. “Which is?”

  “Apparently, quite . . . intimate,” she said, stumbling nervously over her words.

  Evanston approached her, pausing near the side table, where he leaned down to deposit his glass, his gaze unnaturally focused on his task. “And if I denied it . . . would you believe me?”

  Her temperature was steadily rising. “I’m not certain what to believe. Not that it matters,” she added.

  “No,” he agreed softly, finally glancing up at her, blue eyes dropping to her lips. “Not that it matters . . .”

  The noise of a carriage on the drive interrupted their conversation. Thomas stepped closer to glance out the window, only to withdraw immediately, his brow lowered in irritation.

  “Lady Evanston has seen fit to pay a visit today.”

  Eliza’s eyes widened. She knew of the turmoil that existed between Thomas and his mother. “Oh. Were you expecting her?”

  “No, of course not,” he muttered. “She only ever arrives unannounced.” As if to illustrate his point, he threw open the doors of the drawing room. Loud footsteps echoed through the large, marble-floored foyer, coming closer, until at last she was revealed. The widowed viscountess, a sight to behold, sailed through the door well ahead of the apologetic butler.

  Dressed in full mourning—despite the fact her husband had died many years before and she never really liked him to begin with—she was swathed in layers of voluminous black crepe. Even her wide black hat was ornamented with similarly black feathers, which swooped and bobbed with each movement of her head. It appeared Burton was still struggling to greet her, as if she had pushed past him at the front door.

  Evanston waved to the butler in dismissal, then clasped his hands behind his back. “Hello, Mother. So very nice of you to stop by, although as you can see, I am busy entertaining a guest.”

  The lady’s head twitched in Eliza’s direction and sent her feathers aflutter. Combined with her sharp features, Eliza couldn’t help but be reminded of a quail.

  “I see Eliza Cartwick. Where is your guest?” his mother inquired, her cold eyes unflinching.

  She could sense the viscount’s temper from where she stood across the room.

  “Lady Eliza is my guest, mother. I invited her here today. You, however, have arrived without notice.”

  Lady Evanston skewered him with a look. “I used to live here, or have you forgotten?”

  “I have not. But lest you forget, I am the master of this estate now. Your presence here is welcome, but not at the expense of my privacy and my friends.”

  “Friend? Is that what we’re calling her now? I’d assumed you’d taken her to bed years ago. It’s what your father would have done, after all.”

  Eliza’s face went numb with shock. She watched mutely as the viscountess proceeded to walk around to seat herself on the settee and help herself to the tea sandwiches. Eliza risked a glance at Thomas, whose eyes had grown black with rage.

  “Say what you like about me,” he said in a deadly tone, “Lord knows no one can stop you. But take special care to omit Eliza from your judgments. There will be consequences if you do not.”

  Her heart ached at his words. That he should endure such treatment from his own mother but insist on courteousness towards Eliza . . . it was nearly too much to bear.

  “Oh?” replied the woman around a mouthful of cucumber sandwich. “Perhaps your revenge will be to philander while gambling away the family fortune. Ah, but no. You were doing that already.”

  “I have never jeopardized the health of the estate,” he fumed.

  “You need an heir to continue the line. A wife,” she spat, glancing derisively at Eliza. “Not a paramour.”

  Eliza decided that she had heard quite enough.

  “Stop,” she demanded angrily, coming to stand before Lady Evanston, who merely regarded her with an expression of distaste. “You willfully misunderstand your son. I can only assume this is because he shares many traits with your late husband, but I knew his father as a child. He was, despite his faults, a good man. A kind man. Thomas is also good and kind, and I will not stand here in silence while you blacken his character.”

  His mother sat in offended silence, and Eliza raised her eyes to meet Evanston’s stunned gaze.

  “I was happy to see you today, Thomas. Perhaps next time we meet, it will be a more peaceful occasion.”

  With a swish of her skirts, she exited the drawing room, gaining notice of a footman who stood nearby. She was suddenly very eager to be on her way home.

  Lady Evanston uttered a snort of disbelief as Eliza departed the drawing room, and Thomas stared after her retreating form in no less amazement. Surely he had misheard some portion of what she had said. If he had not, it would mean she had just displayed a measure of feeling for him he had not known she’d possessed. This would have been astonishing by itself, but to level the fierceness of her convictions at his, albeit spiteful, mother . . .

  A surge of hope, however foolish, rose inside his chest. Unpleasant, scoffing noises distracted him to his right, and his eyes flicked over to the viscountess, who was so taken aback by Eliza’s angry reaction that she was having trouble formulating a complete sentence.

  “The . . . the impertinence—”

  Evanston’s eyes narrowed. “Tell me, is it also considered an impertinence to arrive at my home uninvited, while skulking about and casting insults?” He glared down at her in disdain. “Yes, you birthed me, however reluctantly. But I do believe I have been too polite with you.”

  Thomas turned and swiftly propelled himself out of the room, suddenly needing to find Eliza. He cast a meaningful glance at the footman on his way out, and with an obedient nod the man closed the doors behind him as he left. His mother could finish her sandwiches or stew in her ill temper for all he cared, but she would do it behind the privacy of those oak-paneled doors and out of his sight.

  Thomas hurried to the foyer, hoping Eliza couldn’t have left the premises in such a short amount of time. If indeed she had run outside and leaped into her carriage, he would just as quickly go fetch his horse and stop her on the road until he knew more. Why—if she found him as dishonorable as she claimed—had she just made a vigorous stand to defend him? Could friendship alone explain the force of her reaction?

  Fortunately, her voice could be discerned from near the front door, and Evanston rounded the corner to see her addressing the butler.

  “Eliza,” he called urgently, “I need a word with you.” Thomas quickened his pace, his footfall sounding loudly within the large enclosure.

  Burton left with a bow and Eliza glanced up at Evanston briefly before turning towards the front door.

  “My apologies,” she said stiffly. “It was not my intent to create trouble for you—”

  He reached her in that moment, hand encircling her elbow to spin her around to face him. Large green eyes, wide and hesitant, sought his, and desire s
urged through his chest, nearly choking him. Clenching his teeth, he focused on the question at hand.

  “Did you mean it?”

  Eliza paused and blinked, but the rising color in her cheeks told him that she knew what he was asking. His grip on her arm loosened but did not relent.

  “I—I’m . . .”

  She wet her lips with the tip of her tongue. A nervous movement to be sure, but it drove him mad all the same. He concentrated on breathing calmly, evenly, while her gaze darted everywhere but to his face. When she finally raised her eyes to meet his, a touch of lingering irritation had resurfaced.

  “Yes, of course I meant it. The transgressions of your father are his alone. I don’t think it’s fair for Lady Evanston to hold you accountable for his sins, whatever they may have been—”

  The door to the drawing room banged open loudly from around the corner. Thomas felt Eliza jump beneath his touch and he glanced over to see his head footman trailing after the viscountess on her way out. His mother’s nose was tipped high in the air as she marched towards the front door, and despite her head start, the footman hurried and reached the door first to yank it open. She stopped briefly to turn and lance them with a glare.

  “Ignoring me for a woman. You are just like your father,” she spat accusingly.

  With that, she stalked outside to her carriage. The footman shot his master an earnest look of apology before closing the door behind him to follow the enraged lady, and Thomas dropped his head and sighed. After a moment of silence, he raised his gaze to meet Eliza’s once more.

  “It is possible I am very much like my father,” he conceded, his mouth twisting, “and that is why she holds me accountable to such standards.”

  Her eyes flashed. “It is also possible you deserve to be compared against your father’s best qualities, of which he had many,” came her curt reply. Eliza turned to resume her course out the front door, pulling at her arm, which was still in his grasp. “Now if you will excuse me, I should be leaving too—”

  One tug was all it took to whirl her back round to face him. Thinking back, he was ashamed that their kiss long ago had been such a farce, an exercise in amusement from a jaded man who’d never known anyone worth holding dear. But as he gazed down at Eliza now, he could hardly believe he’d been so blind. This was a woman who could bring him to his knees, and for the first time in his life, he would gladly sink down.