She laughed as she held out a hand for his hat and gloves, which she also passed on to Tibby. The maid scurried away, leaving them alone. For all her sass with Evangeline, Tibby did not trifle with the Duke of Allingham. No one did.
“Not exactly,” Evangeline said as she linked arms with her father. “I only wished to speak to you, and what a happy coincidence that you were coming in as my company had just departed. Would you like tea in the parlor or should we go to your study?”
He narrowed his gaze at her. “The parlor is fine if a set is already prepared there. What is it you want, Evangeline?”
“Want? Only to speak to you.” They entered the room she had just inhabited with Henry, and she released her father’s arm as she went to the sideboard and poured him a cup of tea. She sweetened it and then shot him a naughty look before she splashed a hint of whisky in the brew.
His expression softened a bit. “Just as I like it, eh?”
“It’s the holiday season—why not celebrate with a little indulgence?” she replied, sitting on the chaise as he settled into a chair across from her. “Were you at the club?”
“Yes, and of course the whole discourse devolved into politics.” He shook his head. “I went to play billiards, not listen to ramblings. Next time I’ll just invite someone here.”
Evangeline nodded to placate him, but this was the perfect opening. “Perhaps Lord Killam. He is always good company.”
Her father shrugged one shoulder. “Good enough. He certainly wishes to impress me.”
“It’s funny you mention him.” He lifted his brows and she ignored the unspoken fact that she had mentioned the viscount first. “For his younger son Henry was here calling today.”
“Ah, yes. The scientist.” Allingham chuckled. “How it sticks in Killam’s craw that his boy is in what he considers a trade. He was going on and on about it after the ball Saturday last. Couldn’t trip over himself fast enough to tell me he didn’t approve.”
“He considers Henry’s research a trade?” Evangeline said, wrinkling her brow. “Many of rank have interest in the stars. It’s all the rage, isn’t it?”
“Perhaps, but that paper he published embarrassed Killam.”
Evangeline nodded. Now the pieces of the puzzle were coming together. Why Henry had been so upset that day in the park. Why Henry had mentioned his paper.
“What does the viscount intend to do about it?” Evangeline asked.
Her father shrugged. “I know the boy has always been a particular favorite of yours, but why all the sudden interest, Evangeline?”
She leaned back. “A particular favorite?” she repeated. “Whatever do you mean by that?”
“You two put your heads together any time he’s here,” Allingham said as he got up and crossed back to the sideboard, where he splashed more whisky in his half-drunk tea. “And you said he was here, calling on you. You could have a duke, you know. Or an earl or a marquess…”
She waved her hand to interrupt him. “Oh, Father, you tell me this constantly. Don’t change the subject.”
“What was the subject?” He stared into his tea. “Oh yes, Killam’s youngest. Well, he muttered about cutting him off to end the foolishness. I suppose he will do so if he thinks it will keep his own status from being devalued by, God forbid, science.”
Evangeline caught her breath as her father droned on. Henry’s position was being threatened and her heart hurt for him instantly. He loved his work—anyone who read that paper he’d written in his society’s journal could not doubt his true passion for it. And his father threatened him, his very existence, over it. No wonder he was so distracted and upset.
“—Henry would have to marry an heiress, I suppose,” her father said, drawing her attention back. “Perhaps one of your friends could save him. After all, you are constantly working hard to repair all those little birds with broken wings.”
Evangeline rose to her feet. Henry marrying an heiress would certainly solve his problems. There were hardly any heiresses as well off as herself. Her dowry would keep him safe and them both in comfort for the rest of their lives. And of course, that had been her plan. To trade on his liking her in order to obtain her independence. It seemed she might have a different card to play now. Her fortune.
And yet that felt less…comforting.
Why? Why did it matter if she tempted Henry to wed her through her wiles or her fortune? What was the difference?
She didn’t know. But there certainly was one.
“Why do you look so dour, Evangeline?” her father asked. “Do you need a nip of whisky in your own tea?”
She forced a smile. “I think not, though I do appreciate the offer. I was just thinking of some arrangements for your gathering in two nights. You know there is much to plan.”
“Well, save me from those details,” he said with a shudder. “When I marry you off, I think I shall hire a secretary to do these duties you so admirably perform. Certainly I cannot bear them. Good afternoon, my dear. I’m off to deal with the books.”
He patted her hand as he wandered out of the room, teacup in hand. Evangeline flopped back onto the settee with a grunt and stared up at the ceiling.
Married her off. That was the fourth time he’d made a mention of such a thing. It put her situation in stark relief. She had to push aside any odd discomfort she had with the idea that Henry might wish to use her for her position as much as she intended to use him for his. That would only make it easier.
And she did still know he liked her. So there was nothing wrong with manipulating that fact first, before she turned to her ability to save him with her fortune.
Chapter 6
Henry stood at the edge of the ballroom, watching the people spin by to the time of the music. It would have felt like another normal, forced appearance in the heart of Society but for two things. First, that his father was here, glowering any time he caught a glimpse of him. Though they had not done more than say a cursory good evening, but the viscount’s message was clear: Henry was still to give up his work. One way or another.
His stomach flipped, and he turned away from his father and found himself looking at the second circumstance that made tonight unlike any other ball or gathering.
Evangeline stood at the opposite side of the ballroom floor, peering through the bobbing couples and watching…him. He’d tried to convince himself that wasn’t true, that he was seeing things that didn’t exist and reading the wrong thing into the situation because he was under such pressure from his father.
And yet, he kept finding evidence that he was, indeed, in her sights, despite the fact they had hardly said more to each other than a quick welcome at the receiving line. Evangeline had hostess duties to perform, after all. Ones she was so very good at. He loved watching her mingle, laugh, smile with her guests. Make them each feel warm and welcomed in her father’s home.
He certainly always had, thanks to her.
She spoke for a moment with her companions, an earl and his wife, then began to move around the perimeter of the dancefloor. Step by step, she came closer, her gaze never leaving his. Her movements graceful and lithe and careful. Evangeline was always careful, like every single motion was planned. Perhaps it was. The woman had always been the epitome of control. Could a man take that control? Make her tremble? Make her come undone?