Senseless Sensibilities

by K. L. O'Keefe

  Evangeline clenched her fists. At the moment, she wanted to wring Lord Penworth’s neck. Or maybe she wanted to wring her mother’s neck? Either neck would suffice. How could she not be angry when he seemed infatuated with her mother? She would not be surprised if he dismounted his horse and professed his undying devotion to Anne Fremont and her unspoilt beauty.

  He is trying to make me jealous, Evangeline tried to reassure herself. He’s doing this on purpose.

  Sensing her daughter’s unease, Anne thought it best to change the subject. “When you have a chance, you must hear my daughter play the pianoforte. Her skill is second to none.”

  “Really? Then I look forward to hearing her play.”

  “No, no.” Evangeline waved her hand, brushing the claim aside. “I am not as talented as all that. I am… average, at best.”

  Anne let out a sigh, relieved that her daughter still had a shred of modesty.

  “Do you play the pianoforte, my lord?” Evangeline asked. “You have very long fingers.”

  He looked down at his hands and chuckled. “Er… no. But I can turn the pages for you when you play. That is as far as my talents extend, I am afraid.”

  For the last few minutes, Evangeline had been ignoring the pin prickles on her skin. When a large droplet of rain hit her nose, she frowned. “It is raining, my lord,” she noted.

  “So I noticed. I was hoping to enjoy the scenery a little bit longer, but I think we should turn back,” Nicholas said, staring at Evangeline’s wet nose. “I would not want you to catch a chill.”

  “I am never ill.”

  “Then…” Nicholas turned to the other woman, “we should head back for the sake of your mother.” He studied her, silently, intimately. “Should I give you my coat?”

  A few large droplets hammered Anne’s head, and she wished she had worn a hat. “Um…”

  “Please, I insist.” He was already shrugging off his greatcoat. “It will keep you warm.”

  He did not offer me his coat, Evangeline thought bitterly. She watched Nicholas lean across his horse and wrap the coat around her mother’s shoulders. Evangeline was pouting so much, her lips hurt.

  “How very thoughtful of you, my lord,” Evangeline said. “Unlike me, my mother is frequently out of sorts. I am impressed that you would take heed of her poor constitution.”

  “Thank you, Nicholas,” said the other woman. It was raining heavily now, and Anne was happy to have the coat around her shoulders. It smelled nice, too. His coat had a very masculine scent, and Anne liked the smell—much to her own dismay.

  “Let us hurry back,” Nicholas said, coaxing his horse into a trot.

  Anne followed his lead. She turned her horse around and hurried in the direction of the manor.

  Evangeline, however, did not like horses, and did not make a habit of riding them. Her inexperience was finally rearing its ugly head. She could not get her horse to turn, and it would not speed up, even when she whispered a curse in its ear.

  “Lady Evangeline?” Nicholas turned around. “Do you require assistance?”

  “Uh, no, my lord,” Evangeline answered quickly. There was a false smile pasted on her lips. She leaned closer to the horse’s ear and hissed, “Stupid animal! You’re making me look foolish!”

  But the horse did not take kindly to her insult, and sent her hurtling into a nearby mud puddle.

  Chapter Six

  As Evangeline stomped down the hallway, her sodden boots squished against the floor. Half of her dress was covered in mud. Fortunately, her father’s death meant she had to wear black, and the stain wasn’t as awful is it would have been had she been wearing a lighter color. Evangeline had already torn off her bonnet, which was also covered in flecks of mud. Her hair, which was usually curly and precious, was flat and wet.

  Evangeline hugged herself, feeling her damp, clammy skin. She was shivering all over. What possessed her to say she was never ill? Had she said otherwise, would Nicholas have offered his coat to her instead?

  “What good would that have been? I would have gotten his fine garment covered in mud!” she said out loud, rather shrilly. “Stupid, ridiculous, preposterous animal!”

  She wasn’t talking about Nicholas, of course. She was venting her frustration on Puck, the horse.

  Evangeline stopped in the hallway, where she made the mistake of turning toward a looking glass. She was a drenched, bedraggled mess.

  “Emma!” she shouted at the top of her lungs. Emma was Evangeline’s maid. She worked wonders on hair.

  Evangeline leaned closer to the looking glass, frowning. She had a smudge of mud on her chin. “EMMA!” she shouted again, louder this time. “Emma, I need you at once! Emma!”

  There was someone heading toward her, but it wasn’t Emma.

  “I need to change out of these clothes this instant!” Evangeline went on, not checking to see who had approached. She was completely engrossed by her own reflection, which was less than perfection. “They are horrible and muddy. And they are wet, of course. Oh, and you will have to do something about my hair. It is atrocious. I can’t believe Lord Penworth--”

  “I can’t do hair,” said a masculine voice.

  Evangeline gasped. When she spun around, she was staring at the last person in the world she wanted to see. Jonathan Winters was leering at her.

  “Well… I probably could do your hair, but I’m not sure you’d be very happy with the results.” He smiled.

  “You’re not Emma!”

  Frowning, Jonathan looked down at his masculine form. “I should hope not! Who is Emma? The poor woman. I feel sorry for her, if she is so easily mistaken for a man.”

  “What makes you think my blunder has to do with Emma? Maybe it is you I have mistaken for a woman?” Evangeline fired back at him.

  “Ouch! I’m wounded!” Jonathan exclaimed, clutching a hand over his heart. “Those are harsh words, my lady!”

  “I’m sorry,” she said, sounding genuinely apologetic. “I didn’t mean to insult you. One could hardly mistake you for a woman, I just… I failed to notice who was approaching.”

  “Understood,” Jonathan said, his smile returning. “Now, about your hair…”

  He reached for her, but she smacked his hand away. “Don’t you dare touch me!” She looked down the hall, looking for any sign of the willowy blonde maid. “Emma!”

  Evangeline was shouting so loudly, Jonathan wanted to plug his ears. Unfortunately, he was missing a hand, and could only cover one. “Do you have to shout like that?”

  “I need her!” Evangeline lowered her voice, but she was hissing at him. “My dress is ruined, my hair is a mess, and… I don’t need to explain myself to you, do I? I have no reason to subject myself to your criticisms.”

  She started down the hall, and Jonathan followed her.

  “What are you doing?” Evangeline smacked her hands against her hips, as if on the verge of a tantrum. “I didn’t ask you to come with me!”

  “No, you didn’t. By the way, I wasn’t criticizing you,” Jonathan said. “I don’t mind that you shout, or that you require the services of a maid. But if you ask me, you look fine as you are. You look rather fetching when wet.”

  Evangeline rolled her eyes. “Why are you telling me this? You’re his lordship’s valet.” She scowled at him over her shoulder. “You shouldn’t speak to me like that, Mr. Winters.”

  Jonathan’s eyes lit up. “Mister Winters!” he exclaimed. “Did you really just call me that? You’re not calling me Valet anymore?”

  “It’s better than you deserve,” Evangeline said, turning her nose to the ceiling.

  Jonathan looked down at her legs. He couldn’t help himself. Her damp skirts were clinging to her legs in a most tantalizing way. He also noticed something else. “You have mud on your dress.”

  “Oh, really? How kind of you to point that out to me. I did not know.”

  Her sarcasm made him chuckle. “Did your ride with Lord Penworth not go as planned?”

  �
�I fell,” Evangeline said. She didn't think he deserved a better explanation than that.

  “Really? You were thrown from your horse?” His eyebrows drew together in an expression of concern.

  “Yes, I fell. How long are you going to follow me?”

  “You poor girl,” Jonathan went on, ignoring her last question. “Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

  “Of course I'm not hurt. As a matter of fact, I like to fall off horses for sport. If you fall just right, it doesn’t hurt at all.”

  Jonathan chuckled again. If she hoped to banish him with rudeness and sarcasm, she was failing miserably. He thought she was quite humorous. “Really? You’ll have to teach me.”

  “I would rather teach Nicholas.”

  “Oh?” Jonathan grinned. For the first time, she was confessing her interest in his friend. Jonathan had expected it all along, of course. He just didn’t think she would be so forthright. “I don’t think Nicholas would like to fall from horses for sport. He’s too brittle.”

  “Really?” Evangeline tilted her head. “He seems broad enough for it. He’s larger than you, anyway.”

  “That’s because he doesn’t feed me,” Jonathan quipped. “Don’t you feel sorry for me?”

  Evangeline rolled her eyes again. She rolled her eyes so frequently, it was a wonder they hadn’t disappeared in her head. “Really? Then why were you at dinner the other night?”

  “Special occasion.”

  She glared at him through the corner of her eye, but she never gave him the satisfaction of her full attention. “Really? And what occasion was that?”

  “Meeting a pretty lady.”

  She gave an unladylike snort. “Are you talking about my mama, or me? He seems rather infatuated with her, if I may say so.”

  “You, of course.”

  Evangeline stopped in her tracks. She turned to face him, holding up a finger. “I do not need your compliments, Sir.”

  “Of course you don't need them. But maybe you want them?”

  Evangeline took a step toward him, leaving just a few inches between them. At such a close distance, Jonathan’s appearance surprised her. He was more handsome than she gave him credit for, and he was at least a head taller than she was. Of course, he didn’t hold a candle to Nicholas. “I don’t need compliments? What do you mean? Are you saying I have such a high opinion of myself that I shouldn't be complimented? Are you trying to tell me I am vain?”

  “No.” Jonathan shook his head. “I am trying to tell you how adorable you look.”

  “Oh, please.” With a rustle of her skirts, she started down the hallway again. “You need to know your place, Winters. Hired servants don’t tell respectable ladies how pretty they look. It just isn’t done. Surely, you must understand that I--”

  Evangeline stopped talking when she no longer heard his footsteps beside her. When she turned around, she saw Jonathan walking in the opposite direction.

  “What a preposterous man,” Evangeline whispered to herself, and headed off in pursuit of her maid.

  I don’t care that he’s not following me anymore, she tried to convince herself. I don’t care a fig for that stupid, boorish, one-handed valet. He’s not even handsome!

  “Was that the Winters fellow, my lady?”

  Evangeline gasped. Emma had appeared at her side, but she was too lost in thought to notice.

  “Er… yes. I believe it was. But what does it matter? Emma, I need a change of clothes.”

  “Of course, my lady,” Emma said, leading the way to Evangeline’s bedchamber.

  “And I’ll need a warm bath.”

  “Yes, my lady.” When they arrived at Evangeline’s room, Emma held the door for her. As her mistress walked in, Emma asked, “Do you think he’s handsome?”

  “Lord Penworth? Yes. Of course he is.”

  “I wasn’t talking about him, my lady. I was talkin’ about Mr. Winters,” Emma said. “And he’s charming, too. One would think ‘e was a gentleman, for all his fancy talk. And he treats us all like ladies, he does. It’s a shame about his hand.”

  Evangeline felt a strange tug at her heart when she realized the maid was talking about Jonathan.

  “Well, I don’t find him handsome,” Evangeline was quick to answer. And with a shrug, she added, “I don’t suppose I’ve paid much attention to him at all.”

  Chapter Seven

  Behind the pianoforte, Evangeline was smiling sweetly at Lord Penworth. He was standing over her shoulder, ready to turn the pages for her. Anne sat on a velvet settee, prim and proud, waiting for her daughter to begin.

  Evangeline’s hands hovered over the keys, but she didn’t touch them. With just the three of them, Evangeline had only a small audience to impress. Nevertheless, she hesitated.

  “I--” Evangeline looked over her shoulder. She was looking at the door, not at Nicholas.

  “Is something wrong?” asked the handsome man beside her.

  Evangeline’s knuckles curled. She positively hated herself when she allowed the other man to creep into her thoughts. She didn’t like him. Not in the least! “I think… I was under the impression your valet would be joining us.”

  “Jonathan?” Nicholas’ eyes lit up. Until now, Evangeline had shown only contempt for his friend. “So, you were expecting a larger audience than this? If you’d like, I can send for him.”

  “No.” Evangeline sat up straight. “It isn’t necessary.”

  Still, she hesitated.

  “Evangeline is honestly the best pianist I’ve heard,” Anne said, trying to make up for her daughter’s pause. “She can play the fastest, most complicated songs. I wish I had such a talent.”

  Evangeline grunted softly. “Mama, you have a talent for distending the truth. I am nothing special. His lordship will be expecting a grand performance, but he’s going to get a mediocre one. That is why I hesitate.”

  Encouraged by her mother’s exaggerated compliments, Evangeline started to play. Soft, lilting melodies filled the room as her fingers swept across the keys.

  Nicholas tried to keep his eyes on the music. After all, it was his job to turn the pages. The task became increasingly difficult; however, for his eyes kept straying to Lady Penworth. His uncle’s widow was so refined and graceful. She wasn’t classically beautiful, but he was drawn to her like a moth to a flame. Though she wore her hair in a tight bun, Nicholas kept imagining the decadent black tresses spread across her shoulders. In his hands. On his pillow.

  Anne met Nicholas' gaze, and she gave a little smile. Was he wrong to think there was some silent message in her smile? Was he foolish to hope for some secret promise behind her smoky eyes? He couldn’t deny his want for her. God knows she had already haunted his dreams.

  Nicholas nearly missed his cue to turn the page. He quickly flipped it over, and Evangeline’s song continued.

  And his eyes went back to Lady Penworth.

  There was something alluring about a woman like Anne Fremont, whose years had added to beauty. To Nicholas, the mother was vastly more appealing than the child-like Evangeline. He had no desire to bed a girl who was as young as she was naïve. But Anne? He knew there had to be a wealth of untapped passion behind Anne Fremont’s gentle guise.

  The thought made him weak in the knees.

  * * *

  Nicholas’ roving eye didn’t go unnoticed. Even while she was playing, Evangeline did not fail to see him frothing at the mouth. Unfortunately, he was not frothing at the mouth for her. He was frothing at the mouth for her mother, of all things. And Evangeline wasn’t happy about it.

  “But she’s old!” Evangeline wailed, slamming her comb against her desk. “And… and she’s hardly pretty!”

  She was wearing her nightrail, and her hair hung loosely over her shoulders. It was past midnight, but she couldn’t sleep. And how could she sleep? The man she wanted to marry was infatuated with her mother, for goodness sake!

  Evangeline frowned at herself in the looking glass. “Maybe I’m not pretty,” she said w
ith a pout. “Maybe I have overestimated myself all these years…”

  For a moment, Evangeline thought about giving up her plans for Nicholas. Why should she waste her time on a man who did not want her? She didn’t think love was a necessary part of her plan, but she wanted her future husband to like her. At the very least, he should find her somewhat attractive. Nicholas, however, seemed to regard her with indifference and apathy.

  “But I don’t want to marry anyone else!” Evangeline whined to her reflection, as if debating with herself. “I want to marry Nicholas and live in this house and stay in Yorkshire forever! I want my father’s fortune to stay with me! No one else should have it!”

  She picked up her comb and ran it through her hair. But her hand was rather rough, and she winced every time she hit a tangle.

  “Ow…”

  Grimacing, she laid the comb down. She realized it wasn’t wise to brush her hair when she was furious.

  Evangeline reclined in her chair, crossing her arms. She didn’t think it would be difficult to snag the affections of one man, but Nicholas had proven her wrong. She had little experience when it came to men. Unfortunately, they weren’t as gullible as she had hoped. And they weren’t as willing to fall head over heels for her, either. Her plan wasn’t progressing as quickly as she had hoped.

  She needed a new plan. A solid plan.

  Nicholas seemed like an honorable man. If she couldn’t catch him with her wiles, she could catch him through his honor. Surely.

  Evangeline sprung from her chair with renewed confidence. Her plan would work. It had to work. She would slip into Nicholas’ bed, and when he found her there, he would have no choice but to marry her! No respectable man could ruin a female and cast her aside!

  If anything could be said about Evangeline, aside from the fact that she was terribly spoiled, it was that she acted on impulse. She never backed down from an idea. In her mind, this was her best idea since she decided to marry Nicholas in the first place.

  Evangeline squared her shoulders and stepped into the hallway. If she was going to trap him in marriage, she would need a strong resolve. She took a deep breath and started forward.