“That is what I want. But my mama will never approve,” Miss Lesley continued. “I must choose, and by the end of this little Christmas season. The very thought of Cousin Edward makes me want to ruin myself like Aunt Dahlia, so he’ll have nothing to do with me.”
Evangeline lifted her chin. Perhaps this gauzy dream life of spinsterhood wasn’t something she could have, but that didn’t mean Miss Lesley should be trapped. If Evangeline could help her…
“Why not do it then?”
Miss Lesley shook her head. “Do what?”
“Ruin yourself,” Evangeline repeated. She looked around the room as her mind spun on the problem. “It would have to be light ruination. To maintain your standing on some level. It all has to be done very carefully, in a controlled fashion.” She rubbed her chin. “A bespoke ruination, if you like."
Miss Lesley stared at her. “Do you really think so?”
“Absolutely.”
Miss Leslie drew her away from the edge of the ballroom floor and the crowd still engaged in the game of Snapdragon. “Pray, tell me more.”
Evangeline shrugged, for it all seemed rather obvious to her as the entire scenario played out in her mind. “If you truly do not want to fall victim to the machinations of your parents, you must do a little machinating of your own.”
“How?” Miss Leslie asked, her eyes wide.
Evangeline drew a long breath as she pondered the question. Then the answer hit her like a punch to the chest, and she smiled. “We must simply think like the men, mustn’t we, when they want to find a biddable bride.” She clapped her hands together as the plan snapped in place, easy as a child’s wooden puzzle. “And who is a biddable bride, at least in their minds? A wallflower.”
“A wallflower,” Miss Leslie repeated. “A masculine wallflower.”
“Exactly,” Evangeline insisted with a grin, and reached out to catch Thomasina’s arm. “And I know just where they are.”
Miss Leslie didn’t resist as Evangeline drew her from the ballroom and down through the long, twisting halls of the manor. At last they reached a door that was partially ajar, and Evangeline pushed it wider so they could see inside.
“The library,” Miss Leslie said in the hushed tones of reverence such a place afforded.
Evangeline looked up at the massive bookshelves that reached almost to the high ceiling of the room. She gave a contented sigh and then shook off her reaction to focus on matters at hand. “And just as I promised, here are the wallflowers.”
There were three gentlemen in the room at present. Two sat on opposite ends of a long settee, reading. The third stood at the window, staring out of a telescope into the night sky. As he turned toward the door and the intruders who had invaded the privacy of the men, Evangeline caught her breath. Lost it entirely as he smiled at her.
Miss Leslie’s gaze followed Evangeline’s and her grip tightened on her arm. “Who is that?”
Evangeline glanced at her new friend from the corner of her eye. “Do you not know Henry Killam?” she said, her tone a bit sharper than she’d meant to make it.
“Might he do? He seems quite a bluestocking sort himself,” Miss Lesley said, her tone now full of regard of Evangeline’s plan. A plan that suddenly felt a little ill-thought.
“Well…” Evangeline hesitated. “He is a thorough, scientific sort of fellow, who never does anything by halves, so that would be an advantage in your predicament, specifically…”
Evangeline swallowed as her attention shifted back to Henry at the window. Miss Lesley spoke of his obvious intellect, but she must have also noticed how handsome Henry was. Not as showy as the dukes, perhaps, more plainly dressed. Not as puffed out like a peacock. But his figure spoke of a lean strength. A grace. He had a very nice face with interesting angles.
His hair was a bit too long, of course, and always looked as though he’d just run his hand through it. And then there were his eyes. Hidden behind spectacles, but still lovely green depths that reminded one of pale fields in the spring and…
Her teeth were clenched and she had to force herself to unclench them. “Do you know, I don’t think Henry will do at all for your purposes, not at all,” she heard herself say.
“No?” Thomasina said with a bit of disappointment lacing her tone.
“No. Because he’s…because he’s not…” Evangeline stammered and stuttered as she tried to think of one reason Henry Killam was not a good choice for her new friend’s endeavor. Before she could, her gaze was caught by a fourth person she hadn’t realized was in the room with them. A handsome gentleman, fast asleep on another settee across the room.
“Simon!” she burst out as she all but leapt toward him, crossing halfway to the alcove in that one long step and drawing the brief attention of the other men before they went back to reading almost as if she wasn’t there at all. She motioned to him with one hand. “Oh, yes. Simon Cathcart ought to do quite nicely.”
Miss Lesley stared at him and her face twisted in disbelief. “Really? He looks rather too indolent. And too…too everything.”
She thought she saw Miss Lesley’s gaze flicker back toward Henry, and she motioned her closer to Cathcart instead.
“Hmmm, yes,” she said, fighting for as many reasons as she could to turn her new friend’s attention to the sleeping man before her. She ticked them off on her fingers, waxing poetic about his days as a soldier, his lack of opinions, anything that jumped to mind about him just so that the attention would stay where it belonged.
And if she embellished, well, what harm was there? The more she thought about it, the more Cathcart seemed the better fit for Miss Lesley! Better than Henry, for heaven’s sake. Evangeline was doing her a favor turning her away toward a far more appropriate match for the job she wanted done.
Miss Lesley looked down at Cathcart over the edge of the spectacles she had pulled from her pocket at some point during Evangeline’s poetic recitation of the gentleman’s better qualities.
“I suppose if I were going to all the ugly trouble of being ruined, I might want something beautiful to look at,” Miss Lesley said at last.
Relief flooded Evangeline. “Exactly, he is imminently suitable for the purpose. Uncomplicated, simple Simon.” She glared at the man still sleeping on the couch. He was not helping. She closed the remaining distance to him and nudged him with her foot. “Aren’t you, Simon?”
Cathcart opened his eyes with a grin that had probably melted a dozen hearts, but had never done a thing for Evangeline. “Of course I am. Is that you, then, Evie, old girl?”
Evangeline let out her breath and glared at him. God’s teeth, she’d forgotten what a shameless tease the man could be. Of course, Miss Lesley might like that about him. Cathcart was fun, in his own way. “It is. Good evening, Simon. Do get up, dear man. Miss Lesley has a proposition for you.”
She glanced away as she said it, her interest brought again to Henry at the window. He was frowning now as he gazed up at the stars. Like something had troubled him. She found herself wondering what it was.
To her left, Simon said something and she forced her attention back to her friends. Miss Lesley looked a bit uncomfortable. She was shifting, in fact, and Simon just looked confused. She started as she realized the man had been lamenting treaties, of all things. Gracious, did she have to do everything? “Miss Lesley desires to be ruined,” she said bluntly.