Evangeline’s auburn brow arched, but she kept quiet.
“Well, that is a different kettle of fish.” Aunt Beatrice disengaged the trigger and passed the pistol to Evangeline. “I understand the reason you brought your young man upstairs, but why are you in your uncle’s chambers?”
Xavier hated that the burden of explaining his presence fell on Regina. He placed his hand on the small of her back. “I misplaced my watch. I thought I might have left it in Lord Wedmore’s room when I changed into a dry shirt the other day.”
Regina stiffened.
Splendid. He’d just dug them into a deeper hole.
“I see.” Regina’s aunt drew out the last word and crossed her arms. Her glower was piercing. He’d likely be gasping out his last breath if her silent wish were granted. “I think it is best not to delay the nuptials under the circumstances. I’ll not have any gossips questioning my niece’s reputation when a babe comes early.”
Regina groaned and buried her face in her hands. He drew her close, wanting to shield her from this mortifying situation. “There will be no issue arriving early, ma’am.”
The woman sniffed. “I would rather not leave it to chance, sir. Tomorrow I will summon Lord Margrave. He has connections that will enable you to receive a special license.” She jabbed a finger in his direction. “Arrive on our doorstep at nine o’clock tomorrow morning, or you will rue the day. Lord Margrave has many connections. Some you would prefer never to meet so do not test me.”
Xavier strained to maintain a polite smile. “I will be here.”
“Very good.” She held out her hand to Regina. “Help me back to bed. Your sister will see Mr. Vistoire to the door.”
Regina rushed forward to offer her arm to her aunt. Aunt Beatrice grimaced and leaned against her as she limped from the room. Once they exited, Evangeline waved for him to follow her.
They didn’t speak as she led him down the main staircase, but she kept slanting odd looks in his direction. When they reached the front door, he couldn’t stand not knowing the meaning behind her stolen glances. He planted his feet, refusing to be tossed out or judged by a slip of a woman.
“Is there something you would like to say, Miss Evangeline?”
She shrugged. “I am simply trying to understand why my sister lied for you.”
“What makes you believe she was lying? We formed a secret agreement yesterday after the picnic. It was only a matter of time before we planned to speak with your aunt.”
Evangeline shook her head as if she couldn’t fathom his gall. “I know all about what occurred after the picnic, and I was with Regina tonight when we heard you moving around upstairs. We thought it was Aunt Beatrice, and Regina went to look in on her.” She glared. “If you hurt my sister, Lord Margrave’s connections should be the least of your concerns.”
For the love of St. Peter, the English were keen on threats. And he’d had enough. Squaring his jaw, he leaned toward her slightly to speak in a quiet voice. “I am trying to keep all of you safe.”
Evangeline’s eyes expanded. “What is your meaning?”
He’d said enough already. “I will speak with my betrothed tomorrow. Good night, mademoiselle.” He sketched a bow then strode from Wedmore House with his head foggy on how he’d created such a mess.
Eighteen
Regina winced when she spotted Evangeline at the bottom of the staircase. Her sister’s arms were crossed, and the rapid slap of her slipper against the marble floor announced her impatience. She was waiting for answers.
“Aunt Beatrice is tucked into bed,” Regina said as she descended the stairs in an attempt to delay the inevitable. “She insisted on a nip of brandy first. In this case, a nip was the same as the two fingers Uncle Charles pours for himself. I don’t expect Auntie will be up and about anymore tonight.”
Evangeline pounced the second Regina’s toes touched the ground floor. “You lied for him.”
“What would you have had me do? Aunt Beatrice was going to summon Bow Street.”
“Of course she was. Auntie thinks he compromised you. I think we are lucky she didn’t shoot him.”
“Yes, well. I’m certain you understand the reason I misrepresented the truth.”
Evangeline maintained her implacable stance. “Misrepresented the truth. Lied. It is one in the same.”
With a groan, Regina pushed past her sister to return to the sitting room, where they had been reading before she went upstairs to investigate the noise.
“We are not finished.” Evangeline dogged her heels all the way to the sitting room. “I don’t give a fig about the moral implications. My point is you acted to protect him, and now you are betrothed. Are you all right?”
“I don’t know.” Regina pinched the bridge of her nose and exhaled. “And I wasn’t protecting him. I was thinking of Sophia.” Her claim might be more convincing if she hadn’t thrown herself between him and Aunt Beatrice’s pistol. She hadn’t made a rational choice, but she didn’t know how to explain the stab of panic in her chest when she’d seen the gun’s barrel aimed at him. She didn’t fully understand it herself.
Regina plopped onto the sofa and held her head with both hands. “If a Runner had been summoned, what is to say he would have left before Lord and Lady Seabrook carried Sophia home from the ball? Our sister would have been embarrassed, and I would have been mortified. We picnicked with Xavier yesterday. How long would it take before the gossips began to speculate on the real reason he was found in Wedmore House?”
Evangeline sat on the sofa beside her and rubbed Regina’s back like their mother had done to soothe them when they were ill or overwrought. “I understand,” her sister said in a quiet voice, “but you shouldn’t have to marry to protect our reputation. Love is the only sound reason.”
Regina lifted her head and sent a half smile in her sister’s direction. She’d had no idea Evangeline was such a romantic. Her sister had always seemed too practical and focused on intellectual pursuits to entertain romantic ideals.
“I cannot say with certainty that a desire to protect our family name is fully responsible for my actions. When I saw Aunt Beatrice aiming at him...” A wave of nausea swept through her. “What if the firearm had discharged? His family loves him the same as you, Sophia, Aunt Beatrice, and I love each other. Little Simon—” Her throat squeezed off her words.
Regina had been eight and Evangeline almost seven when their parents were killed. At the age of four, Sophia barely remembered them. Simon would be too young to hold on to any memories of his uncle. Regina couldn’t be part of stealing an important piece of the boy’s past and future.
“Nothing happened, Gigi. Mr. Vistoire is safe, and he’ll be back at our door before you know it. What are you going to do about him?”
“I wish I knew.” Perhaps there was nothing she could do except marry him. Her unsophisticated heart raced at the thought even though she had enough sense to realize tying herself to him would be a mistake. She would never trust him after tonight.
“What do you suppose he is after?” Regina asked. “He thought we were at the ball, so his explanation for the first time he broke into Wedmore House is clearly a lie.”
“But he is not lying about caring for you. You should have seen his face when you shielded him with your body. He was scared witless.”
Regina shook her head; the backs of her eyes burned. With Aunt Beatrice’s fall and now this, she was spent. “He had a pistol trained on him. Of course he was frightened.”
“Not until that moment. His feelings for you are not a lie.” Evangeline nibbled her bottom lip, and Regina could almost see her turning over the evening’s events in her head. “It is a peculiar situation to be sure—his breaking into the house again. Before he left this evening, he said something odd. He said he is trying to protect us.”
Regina blinked. “Protect us how?”
“He wouldn’t tell me. He said he would speak with you tomorrow.”
The front door hinges squeaked, and
Sophia’s voice carried into the sitting room. “Please thank your mother again for allowing me to accompany you this evening.”
“We were pleased to have you, Sophia.” Apparently, her best friend had walked her to the door. “Will your aunt be well enough to attend Lady Wexbert’s at-home tomorrow?”
“I’m uncertain. She could be laid up for several days.”
“Then you must join us. Mama will insist.”
Regina allowed herself a brief smile. Seeing Sophia’s desire for a normal life being fulfilled lightened Regina’s burden for a moment. The front door closed and the lock tumbled. A bit later, her youngest sister swept into the room.
“Good. You waited to retire for bed.” Her cheeks were rosy and she sounded slightly breathless. “I kept watch for Mr. Vistoire all evening, but he never made an appearance.”
Evangeline shifted on the sofa. “How was Lady Ellis’s ball?”
“Oh, you know what it is like. I barely sat the whole night.” Sophia flounced to a chair adjacent to the sofa and plopped onto it. “My feet are aching terribly.” She propped her ankle over her knee, removed her satin slipper, and kneaded the sole of her foot.
“Did you enjoy yourself, achy feet aside?” Regina asked.
“Very much.” Sophia’s smile revealed the dimple in her cheek. She was the most beautiful of the Darlington Angels, as Society had dubbed them. Her full dance card did not come as a surprise. “Lord Ingram partnered with me for two dances, and he hinted that he wishes to call on our uncle when he returns. Did we receive any word from Uncle Charles today?”
Typically, Sophia raced to collect the post when the carrier arrived, but Aunt Beatrice’s accident had caused quite a commotion that afternoon.
“I’m afraid not, dearest.”
“Oh.” The twinkle in her eyes dimmed and her shoulders drooped slightly. Regina’s sister needed Uncle Charles’s permission to marry since she had not reached her majority—unlike Regina, who might become a bride in a matter of hours if Crispin could procure a special license.
She cleared her throat, hesitant to share her news. “There has been a development this evening.”
Sophia’s head shot up. “Is Aunt Beatrice all right?”
“She is asleep and well.”
“Well enough to brandish a pistol and threaten a man,” Evangeline said.
Regina aimed a look at her that promised an unpleasant outcome if she continued this conversation.
Evangeline shrugged one shoulder. “I see no reason to misrepresent the truth.”
Regina supposed she wouldn’t. Her sister had never mastered the art of the white lie to protect one’s feelings. Regina could hardly expect her to hold her tongue now.
“I wanted to be gentle,” she said. “Not withhold the truth.”
Sophia rested her hands in her lap, so proper and refined these days. “There is no need to be gentle. Whatever you reveal will not send me running to my chambers in tears.”
Perhaps a couple of years ago her sister would have reacted in such a manner, but at nineteen, she was more mature than many young ladies her age. Regina wasn’t worried about her behavior. She didn’t want her sister to be hurt by the fact Regina could marry, and she had to wait.
Regina took a cleansing breath before continuing. “Xavier didn’t attend Lady Ellis’s ball, because he was at Wedmore House.”
Noting Evangeline’s raised brows, Regina opted to tell Sophia all that had transpired before Evangeline delivered the details with her characteristic lack of delicacy. At the end of Regina’s tale, Evangeline recounted her own encounter with Mr. Vistoire when she saw him to the door.
Sophia tipped her head to the side, studying Regina. “Will you follow through with the wedding?”
“I don’t see that I have a choice.”
“You always have a choice, Gigi,” Sophia said. “Aunt Beatrice will understand if you cry off. Can you marry someone you don’t trust?”
Regina settled on complete honesty. “No.”
“Then you must speak with him alone. Unless he tells you the truth, and you are satisfied with his answer, you cannot marry him.”
Evangeline nodded. “Sophia is correct. He needs to be honest with you.”
“And if he refuses?”
“You will persuade him,” Sophia said.
A smile eased across Regina’s face as an idea began to take hold in her mind. “Yes, yes I will.”
She would offer him exactly what he claimed to want and force him to admit he hadn’t come to Wedmore House to seduce her. He was looking for something, and she wouldn’t stop until he confessed what he wanted.
Nineteen
The next morning, Xavier arrived at Wedmore House a half-hour earlier than Regina’s aunt had commanded. The threat of Viscount Margrave’s unsavory associates had little to do with his arrival time. The men would have to stand in a line behind Farrin’s thugs for a turn to rough him up. Xavier’s main concern was for Regina’s state of mind.
Everything had happened too quickly last night, and he needed to speak with her alone before Lord Margrave arrived and the situation escalated. Xavier regretted his rash action last night. His claim that they were betrothed would tie her to him for the rest of their lives. His aim all along had been to marry her, but he hadn’t wanted to force her hand or use deceit. Nevertheless, he’d seen an opportunity and taken it, which made him feel like he was as rotten inside as Farrin.
He feared Regina would despise him forever, but a glimmer of hope fought to stay alight as he grabbed the serpent doorknocker at Wedmore House and knocked.
Sophia answered. Her usual expressive face remained impassive as she greeted him. “Good morning, Mr. Vistoire. Follow me, please.”
He frowned when she turned her back to him to lead him into the house. He discarded his hat and gloves on the entry table and followed her. She didn’t speak as they crossed the foyer en route to the arched doorway marking the start of the corridor. The swish of her slippers against the floor seemed exceptionally loud in the somber quiet. He had a tickle at the back of his throat that he tried to ease by swallowing, but when his cough broke free, it sounded like the bang of a gavel.
Sophia paused in front of the closed door he’d seen the day he helped bathe Cupid. If he was correct, Lord Wedmore’s study stood on the other side. His chance to possibly poke around and memorize the layout had arrived, and he didn’t give a damn.
His escort knocked, and Regina’s muffled command to enter filtered to the corridor. Sophia pushed open the door and stood aside so he could walk inside. His gaze locked on Regina sitting behind the desk. A small pistol lay on the surface. Wildly, he swung his head, searching the cluttered room for Viscount Margrave or Regina’s aunt.
“We are alone.” Regina slid the pistol across the battered desktop toward her and dropped it in a drawer. She smiled. “I took Aunt Beatrice’s firearm while she was sleeping. Rest assured, our meeting will not be interrupted by a pistol-wielding spinster.”
She was trying to lighten the mood, but the reminder of last night made his gut clench. “You could have been killed. What were you thinking by shielding me with your body?”
Sophia gasped and Regina’s friendly demeanor evaporated. “I wasn’t almost killed, Sophia. Mr. Vistoire is exaggerating. Please, allow us some privacy like we discussed.”
“Auntie is not getting her pistol back,” her sister said with a sharp nod.
Sophia didn’t wait for a response before pulling the door closed. Regina didn’t invite him to sit, so he stood, waiting for her to speak. She didn’t. She tugged open a side drawer, retrieved a book, and began reading. When she turned the page, irritation flared inside him, but he held his tongue. If she was looking for a quarrel to justify ending their sudden betrothal, he wouldn’t oblige her. He didn’t want to argue or their relationship to end with bad blood. He didn’t want it to end at all. If they could at least remain friends, he would be content.
Eventually, his feet began to burn fr
om standing at attention for so long, and the items in the room called out to him. Lord Wedmore’s study was like a small museum. Clay pots sat on the windowsill. Wood carved animals graced the shelves. A bowl of tarnished coins rested on a table along with a dented helmet that could have belonged to a gladiator at one time. A tapestry hung alongside a rusty set of shackles screwed into the stone wall.
“Would you like to look around?”
Regina’s voice startled him.
“No.” He cleared his throat. “No, thank you.”
“Are you sure? Uncle Charles wouldn’t mind. He is proud of his finds.”
“Does he deal in antiquities?”
“His hobby is antiquities. He donates his finds to the British Museum or keeps them, but I’ve never known him to part with an item for profit.”
Suddenly, he understood Farrin’s desire to get his hands on the map. It was likely ancient and valuable, and not for sale. It could be on display in this very room.
Regina closed her book and stood. “But I don’t want to bore you with Uncle Charles’s trinkets. You came here for me. Let’s get on with it, shall we?”
“I don’t take your meaning.”
“Oh, I think you do.” Her calculated smile as she rounded the desk and trailed her fingers over the battered surface caused his mouth to go dry. She was up to something.
“Evangeline and Sophia will keep Aunt Beatrice occupied, and I’ve not yet sent a message to Lord Margrave. You needn’t worry we will be interrupted.”
She leaned against the desk and arched her back, thrusting her breasts toward him. A pretty pink blush rose in her cheeks, but she boldly held his gaze.
“Sweet Mary Mother of God,” he said, his words running into each other as if they were one long one. “Are you trying to seduce me?”
“Of course not. You are here to seduce me, Mr. Vistoire. And I am ready to surrender.”
He frowned. “I don’t want your surrender.”
“You don’t?” She blinked as if she didn’t understand, but Regina possessed a shrewd mind. He didn’t believe her bewildered act for a moment.
Secrets to a Gentleman's Heart (Uncle Charlie's Angels Book 1) Page 15
