“A gentleman craves what he must wait for,” Evangeline said with a shrug. “I didn’t make the rules. I simply play by them.”
She didn’t allow Tibby a chance to argue, but opened the door to the parlor with a wide smile. Henry was standing at the fireplace that was brightly decorated with holly and ivy branches for the holiday. He turned as she entered.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Killam,” she said, coming toward him.
“Lady Evangeline,” he returned with a slight bow and a quick glance at Tibby. Evangeline barely kept herself from sighing. It was so very irritating to require a maid wherever one went. Made it very difficult to seduce a man.
She let her gaze flit over the very man she was trying to seduce. His hair was a little too long and he’d obviously been running his fingers through it, for it had settled in a wild manner. His spectacles were on the bridge of his nose and behind them his dark green gaze followed her as she moved to the sideboard and the tea set that had been placed there.
“You take only milk, don’t you?” she asked.
His brows lifted. “You recall that detail, do you?”
“After the number of times you have joined us here, of course,” she said, and turned with his cup. They moved to the settee together and sat, just a cushion between them. He sipped his tea, then set it aside on the table behind him.
“Your father is so important, he must get, what…ten to twenty callers a week? And then the suppers and other gatherings he holds…a conservative guess would be another thousand people through those front doors. Not counting balls. You must have two to three thousand guests at this house each year, at minimum. So yes, it surprises me that you would recall how I like my tea.”
She laughed, and for a moment all her machinations faded and there was only Henry, making calculations in his head because he couldn’t help himself. “There may be three thousand guests to this house per annum, my dear Mr. Killam, but none are you. You make an impression.”
He stared at her, his gaze holding hers for a beat. Two. His pupils had dilated a fraction and she saw the hint of longing there in his stare. Wanting. She’d felt it from other men, in truth, she’d occasionally felt it toward other men. But this was different. This was something warmer and more specific, and she couldn’t help but shift in her seat as an unexpected tingle moved through her.
“Tibby, I left my book up in my chamber,” she said, glancing back over her shoulder. “And I thought Mr. Killam might have an interest. Why don’t you go look for it?”
Tibby’s eyes went wide and she glanced back at the door. “My lady—”
“I’m not certain where it is,” Evangeline said, glaring with meaning at her servant. “Start in my bedroom. You know the one. It has a blue cover. If it’s not there, try my sitting room and then the library.”
Tibby’s jaw set, but it was clear she’d gotten the message. She bobbed out a brief curtsey. “Yes, my lady.”
Her maid left and Evangeline let out a deep sigh. “At last, we are free,” she muttered.
Henry swallowed hard. “I suppose we are.”
“Have I shocked you, sending away my maid?” she asked with as light a tone as she could muster when she was now surprisingly nervous. She got up and paced to the door where she turned and faced him. “Would you be even more shocked if I did…this?” She leaned against the door and slowly shut it, pressing her back to the cool surface as she stared at him.
He stood and once again his throat worked as he swallowed. “We are…friends, aren’t we?” he choked out. “I suppose there is no harm in friends being alone.”
“Not at all,” she purred, taking a step toward him slowly. “I’m so glad you came, Henry.”
She said the words, designed to make his cheeks brighten, which of course they did. But she was surprised to find she truly meant them with all her heart. She was glad he’d come. Glad he was here with her. What that meant and why it was so abjectly terrifying was not a subject she intended to explore further. Especially not when Henry had taken a long step around the settee and was now in arm’s reach of her, watching her with an expression of surprise.
Her plan was working. And she couldn’t stop now.
Henry had always been good at figures and hypotheses and discovering the truth of a matter in a scientific way. Relationships hadn’t ever been his strong suit. He had a small group of friends and occasionally danced at a ball when it was necessary, but connection with other people wasn’t a skill he had spent a good deal of time cultivating.
Today, though, he recognized a shocking fact in one explosive moment and it set everything in his world on its head. Evangeline was flirting with him. Evangeline.
Was she? It seemed outrageous that it could be so. He drew a breath and decided to address the matter as he would in a scientific endeavor.
The hypothesis: that Evangeline was flirting.
Now to analyze the evidence. First, she was looking at him in a different way. Staring into his eyes, leaning forward, smiling more. One could dismiss that as friendly, but her pupils were dilated like an animal’s would be in a state of sexual arousal. He had a sneaking feeling his were the same. But then, he had always liked Evangeline in a more than friendly way.
Point one for the hypothesis.
The second bit of evidence was how she was talking. She had behaved as though he stood out in the crowd of thousands who traipsed through her father’s door each year. Which meant she was either lying, which would be an attempt to make him feel special, or she was telling the truth and that meant he somehow was special to her.
Point two for the hypothesis.
“Henry, what are you doing?”
“Thinking,” he muttered.
She tilted her head back and laughed. It was a rich, throaty sound that filled the small parlor with music and made it feel lighter. He found himself smiling along with her.
“Your mind is so remarkable,” she said, inching a little closer on the settee. Her fingers wiggled across the cushion between them, closing the gap. Together they watched as she glided them over his own hand.
She was touching him. Oh, she’d touched him before, certainly. Shaken his hand, rested a palm on his arm as she laughed when he said something foolish to garner her attention, they’d danced a handful of times in the many years their fathers had been acquainted.
But this…this felt so different. Neither of them wore gloves. Her fingers felt heavy on the top of his hand. Warm. And when he looked at her, her lips were parted, almost in surprise.
Point three for the hypothesis. Evangeline was flirting with him. He felt he could make a strong argument for that if pressed. Like her hand pressed into his and sent shockwaves of awareness through his body. Settling in his blood. Heating the length of him that was suddenly and uncomfortably reacting to her proximity and the soft glaze to her stare.
He jumped to his feet and paced away to the window where he stared out at the garden behind the house. He was having a natural, physical reaction to a woman. That was science. If he thought of something else, anything else, that would cut off the reaction.
Why couldn’t he think of anything else besides the slight honeysuckle smell to her skin and the way it felt against his own?