Evangeline nodded good night to her maid—who gave her a sympathetic smile in return—and waited for the door to close, then removed the binding ribbon and ran her fingers through the tight braid in her hair. Shaking loose the plaited strands, she pulled her fingers through them a few more times before climbing onto her bed. Who could sleep with their hair bound up in such a manner? She’d been forced to do so until now, just as Jane had been forced to braid it as instructed, but Evangeline refused to endure it any longer. Every night Jane pulled Evangeline’s hair into the braid that almost kept her eyes from closing. Every night she suffered for the sake of her hair.
But not tonight.
It was a small rebellion. Only Jane would know. If Evangeline laid the ribbon on her pillow, even if her mother woke her in the morning, she would think it had come loose in the night. Yesterday Evangeline had tasted a table full of ices, and tonight she would sleep with unbound hair. Truly, she was a hoyden. She chuckled as she carefully placed the ribbon Jane had used on the edge of her pillow.
She was fortunate that tightly bound hair was her current problem, really. When she’d been to visit her cousins, she’d had to work to keep the shock from her face at Victoria’s new short length hair. Apparently the ends of her hair had been singed in the flames. She was still beautiful, and the style seemed to suit her temperament, but Evangeline quite preferred the longer length of her own hair.
The repercussions of that blasted fire on her cousins’ lives were unending. Shorter hair was the least of their worries now with the news of their father promising Victoria to Mr. Brice for his bravery. Or should he be called Lord Hardaway now? How quickly things had changed for everyone involved. Brice had tried to refuse the courtesy title, according to Evangeline’s mother, until his own father forced his hand.
Evangeline shook her head and drew her fingers over her sore scalp. There was nothing to be done for any of it. She’d attempted to speak with Isabelle on the subject, although that had done little good. Isabelle wasn’t speaking to her sister, and Evangeline couldn’t blame either of them. Sisterly love was a delicate thing. She would know.
Just then, a scraping sound on the other side of the room drew her attention. Her window slid open. An intruder! Her heart pounded in her chest. She’d heard stories of the dangers of London, but she’d always thought their home was safe. What should she do? She had to do something.
Evangeline picked up the nearest weapon she could find to defend herself against the threat climbing into her bedchamber—her silver-backed hairbrush. She shifted to her knees on the edge of the bed, holding the hairbrush up in preparation to beat the thief senseless. The only sound was her heart pounding in her ears. Time seemed to slow as she watched one Hessian boot drop over the windowsill, followed by the large form of a man. Rather nice boots for a common thief, weren’t they?
“Your home is surprisingly easy to break into,” he said. “You should have that seen to.”
She froze, the brush still held high in her hand, blinking into the shadowed side of the room. It lay too far beyond the reach of her candle for her to see the intruder properly.
“A hairbrush?” he asked. “This is how you defend yourself? Really, Evie.”
“It was all I could find.” She tried to shake some sense into her addled mind. Ash was standing in her bedchamber. “What are you doing here?”
“There wasn’t any entertainment tonight,” he replied as he shook his coat back into place on his shoulders.
“If you came here to be entertained, I may yet have to beat you with this hairbrush.”
He chuckled and dropped into a chair. “No need to brush me to death. I was passing by, and I wanted to inform you of my plans.”
“Your plans,” she repeated. “You scaled the side of my home to inform me of plans?”
“I was passing by.”
“You mentioned that part.” She was staring at him with the faint notion that everything about this would make sense if she only looked a bit closer. It didn’t work.
“Haven’t you ever had a thought to go somewhere you shouldn’t?”
“I suppose.”
“I wanted to come here—to see you.” He lounged back in the chair as if it was made for him and surveyed his surroundings. “You have an interesting decorating style, Evie. One would think you were quite concerned with fashion by the fashion plates and…do you have three wardrobes?”
“Everything was delivered here for my use.” She shifted from her knees and moved off the bed to stand. “You wanted to see me?”
“I did break into your home,” Ash conceded with a small nod.
“So you did,” she prompted, and said no more in hope that he would explain what he was about.
“You look better than I’d imagined,” he said after a moment’s silence.
“You imagined me?”
He grinned as he watched her. “Not exactly like this, but…”
She looked down, realizing only then that she was dressed for bed in just her night rail, not even a robe. Of course, she hadn’t been expecting a man to crawl through her window. She crossed her arms over her breasts in an attempt at decency. “If I had known you would visit me, I would have remained dressed.”
“If you find this discomforting, I’m glad you don’t know how I imagined you,” he mused.
Heat rushed through her body as her heart began to race. She took a step away from him, but bumped into the edge of her bed.
“Evie,” he said, standing from the chair. “I didn’t climb in your window to take advantage of you. There’s no need to be fearful.” Closing the gap between them in only a few paces, he placed his hands on her shoulders and slowly moved them down her arms. “You don’t have to hide from me.”
“I’m not afraid of you. I’m afraid of me.” She was known in her family for making terrible decisions. She couldn’t be trusted, especially when he was looking at her like that and making her limbs turn to noodles.
“You have my word that I won’t touch you,” he reassured her as he looked down into her upturned face.
“Ash?”
“Hmm?”
“You’re touching me now.”
“That would appear to be true,” he said as if noticing his own grasp on her shoulders for the first time. “Well, I am a swindler by trade, but I’m also a gentleman.”
“That’s unfortunate.” Her hand flew to cover her mouth as her eyes went wide with horror. She never spoke the thoughts that ran through her mind. What would he think of her?
He chuckled and pulled her hand from her lips, wrapping her fingers within his. She couldn’t look away. There was no judgment in his gaze, only something dark and hungry that matched the emotions swirling through her body. He bent his head and placed a kiss on her hand.
“See? Quite the gentleman.”
“Quite,” she whispered. He was standing close enough to unbalance her if he hadn’t been holding her hand within his. The heat of his body warmed the air around her as she looked up into his eyes. “I could be wrong, because I don’t have vast amounts of experience on the subject, but I don’t think an honorable gentleman would be standing in my bedchamber in the middle of the night.”
“Do you want me to leave?” he asked with a raised brow as he lowered her hand to her side with a gentle touch.
A moment passed before she spoke. No, she didn’t want him to leave. She didn’t ever want him to leave. “You said you wished to tell me of your plans.”
“I did. Of course when I had that thought in my carriage, I didn’t know how difficult it would be to talk of plans and other mundane minutiae with you standing here looking as you do.” He lifted a hand to her hair and let it fall through his fingers.
Her eyes drifted closed. After a lifetime of elaborate styles tugging at her scalp, his gentle touch had her leaning in to him for more.
“And this certainly isn’t helping my concentration.”
She opened her eyes to look at him. “Do you want me to stand across the room?”
“No.” He continued to trail his hand through her hair.
“I could move away if it would help…”
“Could you?” he asked.
“No. I should. But somehow…”
“I like you like this, with your hair hanging in every direction and no adornment. Do you like it?”
“Mmm-hmm,” she murmured in reply as he continued to slide his fingers through her hair.
“That lady you portray in every ballroom isn’t you. This is you. This is the true Evangeline—thoughtful, delicate, and quietly bold.”
She’d never considered herself to be bold. “Do you think so?”
“I think you want much more than you allow of yourself or will even admit,” he said, watching her.
“You tempt me to want more,” she admitted. He’d already made her realize there was happiness to be found in knowing the flavor of ice she truly enjoyed, and how lovely it was to laugh aloud. “Do I tempt you to do the same?”
“You have no idea.” His voice was deep, gravelly, and more than a little suggestive.
She flicked her hand out and hit him on the chest. “That wasn’t how I meant that at all.”
He caught her hand and held it close. “And yet it is no less true. You tempt me beyond reason. You tempt me to want something more.”
His heart beat beneath her hand.
“Ash, this is dangerous—whatever is happening here…”
“I know.” He grinned the wicked grin of a swindler about to steal the prize. “Say that you enjoy it as much as I do, Evie. Admit that you like breaking your rules with me.”
“They aren’t my rules,” she said, suddenly fearful.
“Then why follow them?”
She swallowed and looked up at him. “I make poor decisions on my own.”
“I disagree,” he said, still holding her close. He toyed with the hair that fell over her shoulder. “You made the perfect choice yesterday.”
“I ate six bowls of syrupy sweetness to discover one small detail.”
“Did you enjoy them?” he asked.
She grimaced, hating to admit the truth. It was unladylike. “Unfortunately, I did.”
“Then you made the best decision available to you at the time.” His deep voice rumbled through her as he spoke, calming her and setting her nerves on edge at the same time.
“I haven’t thrown you from my bedchamber. I’m quite certain that is a poor decision.”
“That’s a matter of opinion,” he said with a grin. “What is your opinion? What do you want, Evie?”
You, her heart screamed, but her mouth refused to form the word. Her gaze dropped from the depths of his eyes to his lips. He was so close, and yet he only touched her hair and held her hand to his chest. It would be so easy to rise to her toes and show him what she wanted. And yet it wasn’t easy at all.
“Meet me tomorrow night at Vauxhall Gardens,” he said without preamble.
“What?” she asked, trying to follow the quick change of subject. “I couldn’t possibly.”
“Your aunt and uncle are attending. I’ll be among their party. Meet me there.”
“It would be scandalous. Surely Victoria isn’t planning to be there. The fire. Perhaps Isabelle…” Her voice trailed off as she tried to put the pieces of the invitation together in her mind.
“Do you want to go, Evie?”
“It would be improper,” she responded, but even she could hear that her heart wasn’t in it. “My mother would never approve,” she tried again and failed once more.
“Do you want to go?”
“I have heard it’s lovely,” she mused.
“Do you want to see it for yourself? Experience it for yourself?”
Evangeline licked her lips and gave him a small nod.
His eyes lit up at her agreement. “Then I will see you at Vauxhall tomorrow night.”
“I shouldn’t,” she said with a shake of her head.
“Yes, you should.” He tilted her chin up to meet her gaze. “Evie, you want to attend. You want to taste life. You want to see the fireworks. You don’t have to hide—not from me.”
She nodded. Was that what she’d been doing—hiding?
“Perhaps I’ll even kiss you again if I can make you ask for it. You think I haven’t noticed that you’ve been staring at my mouth for the past ten minutes?”
“I have not…” She began to disagree, but it would have been a lie and he knew it.
“Say that you want me to kiss you, Evie.”
“I would never…” she began, but fell silent.
“Tell me you want me. Say the words and I’ll kiss you.”
“I…”
“Say it,” he implored.
Evangeline’s lips parted, but she said nothing.
“Say, ‘I want your lips on mine, Ash.’ That’s all you have to do. I could show you so many things, Evie. Do you want me to? Say the words.”
Her breathing came out harsh as her heart pounded in her chest. How was he making her so unsettled simply with words, and why couldn’t she utter anything in return?
“I could bring you so much pleasure, Evie. Do you want me to touch you? To truly touch you? If you asked me, I would fit your breasts into the palms of my hands just like this.” His hand hung in the air over her breast, close enough that she could feel the heat of his skin through her night rail. “Then I would lower my mouth to take your nipple between my teeth, tugging at your polished exterior until the real Evie pulled me closer. I would take your breast into my mouth and with my tongue…” He sighed, dropping his hand away from her. “But you have to tell me you want it.”
“Ash,” she whispered, already missing the heat of him close to her skin.
“There’s a world out there that you could experience. All you have to do is stop hiding and tell me what you want.”
It wasn’t that simple, was it? She opened her mouth, unsure how to speak of her own desires. She never talked that way, not like Ash was able to do. But the truth was, she did want him to kiss her. She wanted everything about this man. That was also the trouble. She couldn’t be trusted to speak—not just now. “I…”
He grinned and brushed a strand of hair from her face, placing a kiss on the top of her head as he did. “You’re almost there. Just a few more words. Perhaps you need more encouragement.”
“No.” She took two steps backward until her heels bumped the wall. “I-I’m quite…”
“Evie, has anyone ever spoken to you this way?” He took slow steps to close the gap between them.
“No,” she breathed.
“Do you like it when I do?” He grinned down at her as if he could hear all the thoughts she was too afraid to voice aloud. “I think you do. Do you want me to continue?”
“Do I have to say that as well?” she asked.
“No. I’ve learned in my line of work that it’s sometimes necessary to give someone a taste of what they want before they’ll pay the price.”
“Is that what you’re doing to me? Is this a taste of what’s to come?” Heaven help her, she hoped it was.
“Only if you want it. That’s my price.” He shifted her hair from her shoulder as he spoke, letting it fall down her back.
“That seems…” Whispers of his touch brushed down the side of her neck as he moved her hair. She worked not to lean into his palm and feel the full force of his hand on her skin. “…reasonable.”
“I thought so as well.” He shifted even closer to her, leaning his arm on the wall above her head and surrounding her without the benefit of his embrace to steady her. “If you tell me you want me to kiss you, I’ll kiss you here.” He spoke the words against the sensitive skin beneath her ear before moving down her neck, not touching her, but close enough that she could feel the warmth of his lips.
She splayed her hands on the wall behind her to keep from tipping sideways. He wasn’t even touching her, and still she struggled to breathe.
“I would kiss my way down your neck to just here where I can see your pulse beating rather fast. Is it beating fast because you want me to kiss you, Evie?” he asked against her skin. “You know my terms. Say the words. This is only the beginning. I could show you a lifetime of pleasure if you want me to.”
“A—a lifetime?” Her voice came out thick, the words heavy on her tongue.
He lifted his head from her neck and looked at her. He seemed as surprised by his words as she had been. He hadn’t meant anything by it. She knew that. He had always been about to walk out her door. And she didn’t want one misplaced word to stop what he was doing right now.
“You don’t have to explain,” she almost begged. “I understand.”
“So, you are able to speak. This would lead one to believe you were simply enjoying the thought of what I might do to you too much to stop me.”
“I was not,” she lied.
“Then you don’t want me to kiss you.” He pushed from the wall and turned away from her.
“Ash!” she exclaimed a bit too loudly, grabbing a fistful of his coat and pulling him back toward her. She rose to her toes, prepared to kiss him and be done with his games, when she saw the gloating grin on his face. The man knew precisely what he was doing to her. He’d done just as he’d said—given her a taste of what she could have, and now she did want it. The devilish salesman.
But before she could make any further move toward him, a knock sounded at her door. Evangeline jumped, and Ash was already moving toward the open window.
“Just a minute,” she called.
Looking to the window, she met Ash’s gaze for just a second, but in that second was the promise of what would happen tomorrow night.
“Vauxhall Gardens,” he whispered and she nodded.
“Evangeline, did I hear you yelling something about ashes?” her mother called from the hall.
“Yes. The wind outside, you know. Ashes blew from the fireplace.”
“I’ll send for a maid.”
“No need, I’ve just swept every ash from the room.” She grimaced at the truth of her statement as she watched him disappear into the night. “All is fine. Good night.”
“Very well, but do try not to bellow in such a manner. It’s quite unseemly.”
Evangeline raced to the window when she heard her mother’s retreating footsteps, looking out into the black of night. He was gone. Sinking into the chair Ash had lounged in only a few minutes ago, she touched the pulse at her neck where he’d spoken his last words. Unseemly. Unladylike. She’d spent years in training to not be something. All Ash asked was for her to be. He’d accused her of hiding, and perhaps he was right.
Tomorrow night she would go to Vauxhall Gardens with her aunt and uncle, because she wanted to do so. She would enjoy her evening because she wanted to, and then she would tell Ash everything she wanted him to hear—beginning with asking for his kiss.
* * *
He spent a great deal of his time waiting beneath trees for Evie to arrive places. It wasn’t that Ash minded, because a tree always provided one a convenient place to lean, but he would rather spend that time with Evie than the tree. The rough bark of the trunk pulled at the coat he’d worn to guard against the night chill. What was he doing? He should be wooing Lord Knottsby’s guests into investing at least a small amount in steam—that was why he was here. He didn’t need much from any one gentleman present, but he couldn’t only target Rightworth or it would look suspicious.
St. James had somehow managed an invitation for the two of them to join the Knottsbys’ party at Vauxhall Gardens. He’d also asked that Ash not involve Knottsby himself. Of course there had been no explanation—there never was with St. James. But there were other gentlemen for Ash to focus his efforts upon. And the small gathering would make that task much easier. Evie being here, on the other hand, would only make his true task more difficult. He knew that fact, and yet…
“If you continue to skulk about out here in the dark, the other guests will become suspicious,” St. James said in a low voice as he stepped out of the thatched roof pavilion.
“She isn’t here,” Ash grumbled. He shot one more glance up the path before joining St. James.
“Nor should she be,” his friend hissed. In his dark gray attire, it sounded as if the night itself had spoken. “Have you considered how this will end?”
Ash sighed and ran a hand over his weary eyes. “Not well.”
“She should either be used as a pawn in your scheme, or she shouldn’t be involved at all. There was never a chance of it ending well between you.”
“I’m aware.” He knew he and Evie were not destined for a happy ending. That knowledge, along with the threat she posed to his plans, should be enough to keep him away from her, but it wasn’t. He’d known what an idiot he was when he scaled the side of her home last night, and he knew it now. But that knowledge didn’t keep him from looking up the path toward the iron bridge one last time before following St. James toward the open structure where their party was gathered.
“Lord Crosby, do have some champagne,” Lady Knottsby offered when they came into view. “We’re celebrating our daughter’s upcoming nuptials, you know.”
Ash accepted a glass of champagne and stepped into the pale light of the pavilion. Thousands of colored glass lanterns hung around the garden, making the trees look alive with fairies. Warm light of every color spilled onto the stone floor where they gathered, aided by several lanterns that had been placed on the table at the rear of the structure. Refreshments were set out there as well, giving the gathering an intimate overtone. It would have been a lovely party, if Evie had found the courage to come. As it was, he was left to focus on his work and chat with the hostess. He hid his sigh behind his glass as he took a drink.
St. James waved away the offer of drink as he always did, instead lacing his fingers behind his back. “I hope your family is well after the fire last week.”
“Oh, quite,” Lady Knottsby replied as she took a fresh glass from the footman who circled the gazebo, offering champagne and arrack punch. The remnants of beautiful youth clung to Lady Knottsby’s cheekbones, and she tossed Ash and St. James a smile before lifting the glass to her lips.
“One never expects such tragedy to strike.” Something dark and unspoken passed over St. James’s usually stoic face. The man had never intended a fire to break out when he sent Brice to the jewelry store on Bond Street. Ash knew that without a doubt. But one couldn’t offer sympathies too heavy-handedly in such a situation.
“Terrible circumstances—that fire,” Lady Knottsby said with a shake of her blond head. A pout lingered about her lips for a second before her face lit up with glee. “But those flames led to quite the happy event for our family. The soon-to-be bride will be here shortly. She wanted to look her best to see her fiancé, you know. We came along without her. Isabelle was quite ready to be off.” Lady Knottsby indicated her other daughter with a wave of her hand, sloshing champagne to the floor in the process.
At the mention of her name, Isabelle turned around. She barely spared a glance for Ash or her own mother. Instead, her gaze locked on St. James. Her eyes held a desperation that most wouldn’t notice, but Ash had carved a living from looks like that. The desperate would pay any price for a bit of hope, and he was a purveyor of dreams.
“Would you excuse me a moment?” his friend asked, moving across the pavilion.
Interesting. It seemed St. James was indeed playing the part of hope this evening. Ash watched him join Isabelle. St. James was as secretive and difficult to read as ever, but Isabelle wasn’t. Her eyes lit up as he moved across the room in her direction, as though she’d just spotted her oldest childhood acquaintance. Even now she was laughing at something he’d said. St. James knew how to jest? Who could have guessed it?
“Lord Crosby, are you enjoying all that London has to offer?” her ladyship asked, pulling his attention away from the urgent whispers and laughter from the other side of the gazebo.
“I believe I am,” Ash said in a rare moment of complete honesty. “This is the longest stay I’ve ever had in the city.”
“I do hope you aren’t planning to leave too soon. It would be a shame for society to lose such a fine gentleman as yourself.” She tipped forward a bit when she moved to tap his arm with her fan, spilling more champagne on the floor.
“I have no plans to leave just yet,” he said, eyeing the woman’s husband across the gazebo. The man was so consumed in his own conversation that he hadn’t noticed his wife had become quite foxed.
“Do you have an interest in any of the ladies this season?” She took a small step closer to him and lowered her voice to say, “You’re quite handsome to be unattached, you know.”
“Unfortunately it is business that brings me to town, my lady.” He walked a fine line. In his experience, ladies beyond their limits for alcohol could be easily offended by a lack of interest. One second she could be doing nothing but batting lashes, and the next she would be raising the alarm to her husband. He shot a glance toward the man once more, but he didn’t seem in the habit of looking in his wife’s direction.
“Mmmm, then perhaps someone with a bit more experience in life is more to your taste?” She grabbed another glass of champagne and lifted it to her lips. “Everyone should have companionship, Lord Crosby.”
She was almost correct. Someone like her who needed such things should have companionship—her husband’s companionship. Ash didn’t live such a life. Never stay. Never become attached. He took a sip of his champagne, searching for the right way to proceed.
On occasion he had used women like her to aid him in whatever he was selling at the time—within reason, of course. He didn’t have to agree to all a woman desired to gain her assistance. A few well-placed words of encouragement and she would help with his scheme. After all, ladies had a great deal of influence over how their husbands’ funds were spent—even ladies desperate for those same men’s attention. But when he looked at Lady Knottsby, all he could see was Evie’s aunt. St. James was right—he’d well and truly mucked up this job. “I believe I’m otherwise spoken for.”
“Oh? Lucky lady.”
“As are you.” With a slight tip of his glass, he indicated Lord Knottsby across the pavilion. “Your husband boasts of your beauty to all who will listen.”
“He does?” Her eyes went round as she searched for the man in question.
There it was—hope. There were many less desirable aspects of Ash’s work, but he’d always enjoyed the look in someone’s eyes as they wondered if their lot in life might finally change. “How could he not? Your beauty lights the gardens more than lanterns ever could.”
She batted her lashes at him and listed sideways a step. “Lord Crosby, you flirt.”
“Then I’m in good company.” The woman was indeed a flirt, but he could see why. It came from the same desperation that he’d seen in her daughter’s eyes only a minute ago. Lady Knottsby didn’t truly want him. She wanted what she clearly didn’t possess—the admiration of her own husband.
She lifted the glass to her lips and took a drink, her eyes dancing over to where her husband stood. When the man became aware of her gaze and looked in their direction, Lady Knottsby smiled. Hope was a beautiful thing. She turned back to Ash and opened her mouth to continue their conversation. But when a twig crunched and movement caught his eye, his attention snapped to the path outside.
Moonlight shone off pale skin and the lanterns lit tiny pins in her hair, making Evie look like she was made of the night sky. He couldn’t turn away. She was chatting with another lady as she moved down the path. Ash didn’t notice the other woman, beyond noting it was the woman from the fire. His eyes were trained only on Evie and how she was gliding in his direction.
“Lord Crosby?” Lady Knottsby leaned to the side to gain his attention, almost tipping over the pavilion railing with the movement.
Ash blinked at her, disoriented as if just waking from a dream.
“I daresay you weren’t listening to a word I said,” she remarked, pouting. “What has captured your attention?”
He watched as Evie rounded the tree he’d leaned against only a few minutes ago, her fingers trailing the leaves of a low-hanging branch. A shy smile appeared on her face and grew wide with wonder, no doubt over the decorations and the beauty of the night. He imagined that caged birds would have the same look when allowed to take flight. He pulled his gaze back to the lady’s aunt, realizing too late that the look on Evie’s face was reflected on his own. “I’ve only just seen…”
She turned. “Otherwise spoken for, are you?”
“So it would seem,” he grumbled, knowing the truth of his thoughts about her niece had already been revealed.
Lady Knottsby cackled with champagne-infused laughter. “The business you’re in town for is becoming quite interesting, Lord Crosby.”
“You have no idea, my lady. No idea at all.”