Page 20 of Buon Natale, My Wicked Rogue
So far, it had been a wonderful affair. A delicious infatuation.
She had learned little about Evan, however. He had lost his father five years ago, so like her, he’d lost a father figure recently. But he had a loving uncle, the Duke of Holsworthy. Evan was his uncle’s heir, and one day, he would inherit the title. Evan had found the life of a wealthy nobleman tedious, and so he did some work for the government, though he wouldn’t specify what that work was. He said it was too boring for conversation. The last personal thing she had learned about Evan was that he had had the same valet since his late adolescence. The man’s name was Oliver, and he was a short, stout fellow with brown hair and brown eyes and possessed a clever sense of humor.
But that frustrated her. She loved learning about his life in England.
She loved listening to him.
She wanted to know more about the man behind the glib charm. But as she stared at him, wishing he’d talk more about himself, his eyes grew guarded, as though he’d drawn a curtain between himself and her. He did this only when he began asking that one question.
He rubbed his hand over his jaw, over the faint beginnings of his late-day stubble there. “But you are such a serious-minded woman.”
“Am I?” She bristled at the statement that seemed like an accusation.
“You’re very intelligent. More than that, you are shrewd.”
She moved away from him and pulled the edges of her pelisse together.
“What?” he asked. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“The way you said that, as though it is a crime to be intelligent and shrewd about business matters.” She drew her brows together sharply. “You are beginning to sound like my late husband. He never approved of my helping his father manage the business.”
“So, you’ve told me. Your father-in-law approved of you very much from what you’ve told me.”
“Yes, he valued me in that way. Yes, he confided in me about business matters. He trusted me. He loved me as a daughter, and I loved him as the father I never knew. You already know this. Why pester me about it like this?”
He twisted his mouth as though he’d just sucked on a persimmon.
She saw his chest move with his deep inhalation and then exhalation. “Why pester me like this, Evan?”
“I just don’t understand. If you loved that family and that business so much, why would you leave it?”
“Now wait, you’re putting words into my mouth. I didn’t love the entire family the way I loved my father-in-law. He had my loyalty, not necessarily the family.”
“But if you wanted an adventure and fun, as you say, why not select a lover from among your fellow Boston merchants?”
Unable to comprehend the sudden change in him, she scoffed and turned away. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. She blinked rapidly and swallowed hard, forcing the emotional weakness down. “Listen to yourself,” she said, struggling to compose herself. Then, a surge of ire made her whirl to face him. “You sound almost angry. Are you angry that I came to England? Do you wish that I had a lover back in Boston? Perhaps I should leave today and book a passage back to America as soon as possible.”
He winced. Did he turn a shade paler? “No!”
His exclamation bore such emotion that she startled. But what emotion was it? His eyes blazed. Was that anger?
He came closer to her. “I am sorry, love. I just want to know about your past. I want to know what motivates you.” He placed an arm over her shoulder lightly, tentatively. “You are the strongest-minded woman I’ve ever known. It is different. It is very exciting to me. But I admit that I don’t always understand you.”
She felt herself softening toward him, despite herself. She didn’t want to be at odds with him. Their time together was limited. Yes, he acted strangely at times, but it wasn’t as though she would have to live with those aspects of him permanently. She wasn’t here to snare a husband.
She was here to enjoy herself.
As though he’d felt her body relax, he pulled her closer. “I promise, love, no more questions today.”
Today? Would the questions start again tomorrow?
Later, Evan sat in the drawing room, drinking brandy and staring into the fire. The clock had recently chimed two in the morning. Days of being near Angela, of holding her and kissing her, were taking a toll on his body and his restraint.
However, he didn’t want to rush into anything, not with her. He’d never felt this kind of hesitancy with a woman. He wanted their coming together to be special, as foolish and mawkish as that sounded. But it was all different with Angela.
She deserved things to be special.
But by now, she probably thought he was insane for asking all those dogged questions. Soon, he was going to have to get her to answer the real reason she’d come to England. His superior, Mr. Abney, would be coming to Brighton for Evan’s report.
