Chapter Seven

Alex almost missed the moment Evangeline slipped from the room.

He strode past his host, now weeping in his wife's arms, and out into the cavernous entrance hall after her. No footman lingered by the door but she heaved it open herself and slid out into the night.

If he waited for his hat and coat, he'd lose her.

"Miss Jones," he called as he closed the door behind him. "Miss Jones, wait."

She stood on the bottom step, about to step onto the street. "Did you see what Lord Stein did?" she asked without turning.

"I saw."

"Then you understand why I'd rather be alone. I'm afraid I've had enough of aristocrats for one evening."

"I can't allow you to walk home at this hour. We don't have to talk if you don't want but please permit me to see you home safe."

She leaned ever-so-slightly forward and, for a moment, he thought she was going to bolt. Instead, she turned to face him. "Do you have any idea how many times I've walked home alone at night? And in places a million times rougher than Belgravia."

"You're obviously upset."

"Am I?" Sparing him a final defiant glare, she walked away.

He followed three paces behind, making no effort to conceal his pursuit. After all, the object was to keep her safe, not scare her to death.

She skirted Green Park as she made her way to Piccadilly. A chill lingered in the air, a reminder that summer was long over. Mist gathered, a prelude to what would no doubt be a thick fog. As highhanded as he'd been, he was glad he'd followed her. London's fogs were unpredictable and sometimes fell with miraculous-seeming suddenness. He would have worried.

"Well, you win," she called back over her shoulder. "When is my humiliation at the SPR to be?"

"You don't think I'd let you off so easily, do you? The wager stands, tonight notwithstanding."

She slowed, permitting him to catch up. "What are you talking about? I summoned the spirit of Lord Stein's dead mother, something you expressly forbade."

"Stein doesn't count. He's an animal, not a person."

"Careful. I could take that logic and run wild with it."

Somehow he didn't think she would.

"Why ‘Early One Morning'?" he asked, referring to the song she'd sung.

"According to—" She stopped short of naming an accomplice. "According to certain sources, his mother used to sing it to him when he was a boy."

"Only that song?"

"Of course not. There were a few. Why?"

Her choice of song told him volumes about who she was. "Early One Morning," despite its sprightly tune, was about an unfaithful man. Stein's treatment of his wife bothered her because it outraged her sense of justice. Of fairness. She had her own peculiar moral code, and he admired that about her.

"What's the matter?" he asked, ignoring her question completely. "You don't seem pleased. Do you tire of our wager already?"

She kept walking, her head down so that he couldn't see her face.

"You could always forfeit. Take the money. A clever, resourceful woman like you could do so much with five hundred pounds." He couldn't really spare that much, but he could lay his hands on it easily. It wasn't enough to save the dukedom on its own. Whether he kept it or gave it to Evangeline, he was still going to have to marry one of Ellis's heiresses.

His gut twisted at the thought, but it was the only viable long-term solution.

He couldn't think about that now. There was still time before he'd need to bite that particular bullet, and he knew how he wanted to spend it and with whom. Evangeline still hadn't said anything, which was concerning.

"Is something the matter? Something other than Stein's behavior, I mean."

She stopped walking and peered into his face. "Harcastle, are you being kind?"

"I'm being fair. I assure you, I am never kind."

She studied him through the gloom. "No, this definitely feels like kindness. But since you tell me that's impossible, I suppose you have an ulterior motive."

"For asking after your wellbeing? Why shouldn't I feel an interest in you after—?"

Before he could finish, she pivoted on her heels and marched away across the street.

"Evangeline, wait!"

"Not unless you promise not to say what I think you were going to say. And stop calling me Evangeline."

"If you're worried I'm being kind because I want to sleep with you—"

She stopped again so abruptly that he nearly careened into her back. "Kindly lower your voice."

"It's true, if you must know. I do want to take you to bed."

Her eyes widened. "Then I'm sorry, but you're going to be very disappointed."

"That's not all, though. I realized tonight that I also happen to like you. Although, to be honest, I'm not sure why."

"Is that supposed to be charming?"

"You lie for a living, you take people's money under false pretenses, you rarely smile, and you have all the warmth of the Thames in midwinter. Yet I'm fond of you."

"Oh really?" She lifted her chin, rising to the bait magnificently as always. "Well, you're arrogant, you have no understanding of the real world or how real people live. And you have the gall to call me cold? I've seen hotter stalagmites."

He wanted to kiss her. No woman had ever inspired even a tenth of the lust that she did. He didn't care that they were on the edge of Soho or that it was closing time and they were about to be surrounded by drunks. He wanted to hold her hard against him until all her spikes and sharp edges melted away and she was consumed by desire the way he was.

The combative light faded from her eyes and her expression turned soft. She knew what he was thinking.

"It's late," she said, and he knew that she wouldn't take things further. At least not tonight.

Several minutes later, they turned into her street. The shop beneath her lodgings had seen better days, but the building must have been handsome back in Soho's glory days. As they reached the front door, she turned, about to bid him good night.

"Before I go, I need to know if I owe you an apology for yesterday."

In the shadows he couldn't be sure, but he thought she might be blushing. "No, of course not, but we mustn't let it happen again. I'm sure you agree."

He nodded even though he most emphatically did not agree. She might not be ready to admit it but they were on a collision course. It was only a matter of time before the sparks between them burst into flames.

"I'm glad you feel the same way."

"Good night, Evangeline."

He'd taken perhaps two steps when her hand caught his arm. "Harcastle, wait. After tonight, we mustn't talk about this again. The subject must remain completely out of bounds."

He bowed. "Of course."

"But, just so you know, so that there are no misunderstandings, what you did yesterday, what we did… well, you looked beautiful, that's all."

Without a word more, she fled upstairs. Confounded and unspeakably aroused, he began the long walk home.

∞∞∞

Evie woke at dawn after a restless night. Pale light filtered through the threadbare cotton curtains. Soon the knockerupper would be round, tapping on downstairs windows and shooting dried peas at the upper stories to wake those who had paid her sixpence for the alarm. Mags was already awake, staring at the ceiling.

Twelfth Night opened at the Dovecote in two days' time and she was nervous.

"Are you all right?" Evie asked.

Mags sighed and pushed a flaxen curl away from her face. "I've never played such a large role before."

"You'll be wonderful."

Together they'd practiced Mags's lines countless times. She made a beautifully coy Olivia as she catalogued her beauty for Viola: " Item, two lips, indifferent red. Item, two gray eyes with lids to them. " The audience were going to fall in love with her right along with Count Orsino. Evie had butchered all the responses. Her attempt at the famous willow cabin speech must have had Shakespeare spinning in his grave like a mouse stuck in the mangle.

"It's not only about speaking the lines," Mags said. "It's about charisma. A great actress possesses a certain something that captures an audience. I won't know if I have it until after the performance." She turned over and shuffled closer. "Let's not talk about me anymore. How was last night?"

Evie pulled a face. "Not good."

"Did Stein heckle you again?"

"I wish that were all. Turns out he has wandering hands. His wife was sitting a few feet away."

"Dirty old git."

"I put him in his place." Evie smiled at the memory. "With the help of his dead mother." Her work might be disreputable and dishonest, but it also allowed her to rob Stein of a little power. How often could a girl of her class say that about an aristocrat?

Mags crowed with laughter. "I'd give anything to have seen that. I never get to see you work anymore."

"You can tonight if you like. Captain's having one of his get-togethers. I know you don't like him but you'll come, won't you?"

Mags nodded. "With Chase."

The wealthy Mr. Chase had first noticed Mags when she appeared in the chorus of Medea . All it had taken was a quick word from him to the Dovecote's owner Mr. Hall and Mags had been told the part of Olivia was hers if she entertained Mr. Chase in her spare time. She'd fulfilled her part of the bargain but she rarely talked about how doing so made her feel.

Chase was young and handsome, which Evie imagined must make it easier to bed him than if he were eighty with bad breath and hair sticking out of his ears, but the decision had been imposed upon Mags. If she wanted to progress in her chosen career, she had no choice at all. An actress was always racing against time.

Evie thought about the photograph hidden in the bottom of her dresser drawer. Until the day she'd posed, no man had seen her naked breasts. Captain had guarded her virtue like a miser hoarding gold, then he'd put that picture in Harcastle's way. Wild and impulsive as her actions in the carriage had been, she now wondered if she'd been manipulated and not by Harcastle.

"Is the duke attending?" Mags knew about the wager.

"Of course. It's his big chance to expose me in front of an audience."

"You are being careful, aren't you?"

How to respond when the simple answer was no? No, I'm not being careful. I'm deliberately walking into danger and I don't know why .

"As careful as ever," she replied, but she'd hesitated too long and her words rang false.

Mags drew her into the crook of her arm. They'd only known each other a year but since they'd moved into this little room, they'd grown close. Evie worried what would happen if she had to run. She'd warned Mags more than once that she might need to disappear without a word one day if one of her scams went wrong.

"I worry about you," Mags said. "When I first met you I thought what a perfect little prude you were, but I know better now. There's a recklessness in you. Don't let that duke hurt you just because you've got some silly idea you deserve it."

Evie murmured a response, feigning a return of sleepiness. She couldn't promise to be careful. In her mind, she was on the edge of a cliff as waves crashed against jagged rocks beneath. Spellbound by the sea's beauty, she couldn't make herself take the necessary step back to safety.

All she wanted was to leap forward and revel in the exhilaration of her fall.