Page 47 of A Scandalous Proposal

Still holding his aching head, Evan managed a brief smile. "You shall ever have it."

Brent patted him on the shoulder and walked out.

Friends, Evan mused as he sank back on his pillows, once more exhausted, so long as he never had to watch Brent with Emily. Brent's bride-to-be. Evan's beloved.

He took a deep breath and winced as needles danced from his shoulder down his arm. Though perhaps his injuries were worth the suffering for the simple fact that they relieved him of playing the doting fiance. Even better, his injury would surely delay the date of his own nuptials. He tried to suppress a guilty relief.

As for Brent's wedding, only one thing was certain. Whatever excuse he must generate, Evan meant to retreat to High-grove and stay there until that event was safely over.

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Ten days later Evan sat propped on a sofa in the library at Highgrove. The jolting torture of the journey from London sent him retreating into the oblivion of laudanum for most of the first two days after his arrival. Today he'd recovered enough to insist on leaving his bed.

He felt better just being up. Here, in this dearly familiar spot, he could peruse his books and estate ledgers, go through the dispatches from London, and in blessed solitude, glance up at Emily's landscape he'd brought with him to hang above the mantel.

In the garden beyond the window, he'd had the gardeners plant lavender. Despite the coldness of the spring, the herbs seemed to be taking hold. By midsummer, the stiff gray-green stalks should put forth their scented wands.

By then, he should have shed his bandages, be walking without a stick, perhaps seeing out of the eye still swollen shut.

By then she would be married.

From a bowl on his desk he lifted a sprig of the lavender he'd had cut, the evergreen leaves being almost as fragrant as the flowers, his gardener promised. Its odor as he rubbed it between his fingers recalled her image vividly: glossy dark locks in tumbled disarray, violet eyes, mouth with its sensuous full lower lip promising the passion he'd found in her arms, her body wrapped in fluttering tourmaline silk and the scent of lavender....

"Evan?"

As he opened his eye, the tall brunette of his imagining was replaced by a slender blonde in a jade-green pelisse.

"Andrea? What are you doing here? I thought I'd convinced you and Mama not to leave London. There's nothing wrong, is there? Mama's not—"

"Everything is fine. Are you?" She walked over, bent to kiss his cheek and let her hand linger there. “The fever is gone—excellent. May I?'' She indicated a chair.

"Please, sit. What brings you to me, then?"

She laughed. She'd always had a pleasing laugh, like the gentle gurgle of a brook over smooth stones. He tried to work up more than tepid appreciation and, with another pang of guilt, failed.

"Something quite important for me to dare breaching your citadel," she teased with a gesture that encompassed the room. Her glance rose briefly to the landscape over the mantel, then returned to Evan's face.

"I suppose I should ring for tea and observe the pleasantries, but I'm much too agitated for that. You'll forgive me omitting them, will you not, my friend? Always, for as long as I can remember, best of my friends."

For calm, serene Andrea she seemed unusually perturbed, he thought with a shaft of foreboding. At the same time, a protective affection arose from its slumber.

"Of course, Andy. What is upsetting you?"

"I hope it will not upset you also. At least, not too much. Oh, bother, I should just spit it out." She took a deep breath. "Evan, I wish to end our engagement."

"End?" Of all the things she might have said, that was perhaps most unexpected. "Why, Andrea?"

"The simple truth is I've fallen in love. Oh, 'tis not a brilliant match, but his family is well respected, his fortune acceptable and, quite frankly, even if none of those things were true, I should still wish to marry him. You see, I love him quite ferociously, and the wonder is, he loves me, too."

She laughed again, a merry trill that was joy set to music. Her blue eyes sparkling, her whole face glowing, her smile brilliant, she looked—exactly like a woman in love.

His vague fear that she might have suspected something and come to bring him to task for it died a peaceful death.

"Tell me about him—this man who's captured your heart."

"You've met him, Evan—Giles Winstead, Captain Winstead, and he's wonderful! Oh, he was a bit stiff at first, but we had Richard and the army to talk about, and soon...soon we became the best of friends."

He had to smile. Her words were tumbling over each other so quickly he needed to attend closely to capture them. Never since the accident that lamed her had he seen her so excited—or so lovely.

'"Twas comfortable speaking with him, as if I'd known him all my life, and yet there was something...oh, exciting, almost frightening about it, too. I thought at first 'twas his lack of an arm—but after a while, I hardly noticed that any longer, and the shuddery feeling just grew stronger. Then, when he kissed me—"

"He kissed you?" Evan interrupted. "I should hope he intends to marry you."

"Oh, that was much later." Andrea giggled. "He most definitely will marry me, as soon as he knows for sure our engagement is over. Which I told him it would be. Though I also warned him I intend to marry him and no other, whether you release me or not. And I will, even if we must...flee the country, or something."

Her expression growing serious, she took Evan's good hand. "I didn't think that would be necessary, though. You will release me, will you not, Evan?"

"I will do whatever you wish, Andy. You know I want you happy."

She bent and kissed his hand. "Dear Evan! I've used you abominably, I know. If others call me a heartless jilt, 'tis no less than the truth. I knew from the beginning we shared friendship and nothing more, that you offered for me only out of duty. I should never have accepted. 'Tis humiliating to admit it,'' she continued, a faint blush staining her cheeks, “but I was afraid. Afraid of going into society on my own-poor Andrea, Richard's crippled little sister. Who would wish to marry such a one? Afraid of ending up old and alone. But if I'd not accepted you, if Giles and I had not both been so sure my future was settled, he would never have let himself befriend me, nor I him. I would never have fallen in love with the one man who means the world to me now."

"Of course I release you, little one. I wish you both every happiness."

She seized his neck and hugged him fiercely. "Thank you, my friend. By the way, I've already written the notice officially announcing the break—it wants only your signature. And I must confess I intended to forge that were you not inclined to sign immediately."

''What a little hellcat love has made you," Evan said with a grin. "As it happens, you'll get to try out your criminal skills. At the moment I can't even feel the fingers of my right hand, much less hold a pen."

Andrea's bright eyes dimmed. '"Tis no better, then? I'm sorry. Lord Blackwell told us a little of what you did. I'm so proud of you, Evan. You're just as much a hero as Richard."

"Stuff and nonsense." Despite his denial, her praise warmed a bleak spot somewhere in his heart.

"It's settled, then? I shall stay the night only—I want to get this announcement printed before week's end. Not until he reads the break is official will Giles make a move, he vows. Such a principled darling! Oh—will it make you uncomfortable if he comes to ask for my hand? My cousin's a virtual stranger, so with Richard gone I consider you more my guardian than any other."

"Not a bit. Send him to Highgrove. I shall look forward to furthering my acquaintance with the man who has put such a sparkle in your eye and such joy in your step."

"Do you know, I hardly notice my limp now, when before to have to cross a floor in front of strangers put me in agonies! I think you and Giles shall get on famously. However—" she shook a finger at him "—mind you agree on the settlements straightaway. I want the banns called the Sunday he returns and the wedding as soon as possible." She gave Evan a mischievous grin. "Kissing is so lovely I can't wait to explore what comes after."

He laughed, the first time he'd felt genuinely amused in so long he didn't even mind his blasted shoulder screaming protests at the movement. "Minx. I see we'd better get you wed before we have a scandal on our hands."

"You will come back to London for the wedding, won't you? I couldn't imagine having anyone else stand with me. Please?" She raised imploring eyes.

London. Emily. Emily and Brent. An ache shuddered through him. But he couldn't deny her this. "Of course, Andy. You must tell that soldier he'd best treat you as the princess you are, or he'll answer to me!"

As she rose to leave, her glance went again to the painting over the mantel. After staring a moment, she walked to the hall. Hand on the doorknob, she paused.

"I'll see you at tea. And Evan..."

"Yes?"

"Love is so amazing, so truly wonderful a gift. Should you be fortunate enough to find it, my dearest friend...let nothing and no one keep you from it."

Chapter 20

Emily looked down at the note, her name inscribed upon it in wobbly script as if the writer had had great difficulty forming the letters. Though she'd been warned it was coming, still her hands trembled and her heart beat faster as she unfolded the page and began to read:

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