a boat, my double-compartmented stagecoach —"
"Yes, Andrew." She smiled, touched her tongue to her fingertips, and smoothed what remained of his russet brows. "I'm sure it will be a valuable contribution indeed, if you survive the experimentation stage." She took his arm. "Do you fancy some tea? It has just gone five o'clock."
He looked up at the sky, thick and gray and swollen with cloud, and shivered, suddenly realizing how cold and raw the day was. "Tea sounds wonderful."
"And an early bedtime?" she murmured, suggestively running her hand up his chest.
His eyes gave her all the answer she needed.
Walking slowly so that Freckles could keep up, they made their way back to the house. The smell of damp earth and vegetation hung over the heath and Freckles even managed to flush a pheasant from a tangle of twisted brambles. It was only as they entered the house that Celsie remembered she had a visitor. Horrified by her lapse of manners, she reached into her pocket to withdraw her guest's card . . .
Just as her cousin came around the corner.
Both women stopped in their tracks, Celsie in shock, Eva with a pleasant smile, as though their last meeting had not been violent, upsetting . . . memorable in the most unfortunate sort of way. Beneath her fingers, Celsie felt Andrew's arm stiffen as his greenish-amber eyes hardened and went cold.
"E-Eva!" Celsie managed, with a nervous smile. "It is a —"
"Pleasure to see me?" her cousin finished with a rueful smile, gazing out at them from beneath the brim of an oversized hat that only emphasized the extraordinary beauty of her features, the mysteriousness of her bearing. "No need to pretend, my dear cousin." She glanced at Andrew, who had turned away, refusing to look at her, refusing, even, to honor her with a bow. "And you, my lord. Has marriage robbed you of your civility?"
"You are the last female on earth deserving of civility," he ground out, and then, bowing to Celsie and not even sparing a nod for Eva, he stalked from the room.
"My, my," breathed Eva, raising her brows. "Not exactly the forgiving sort, is he?"
Celsie, noting Eva's pallor, her brittle demeanor, and the haunted shadows beneath her slanting green eyes, decided to ignore that remark. Something was wrong here. "Come, Eva. Let me offer you some refreshment. Surely you have travelled some distance . . ."
"From France. I arrived just this morning and" — her voice went flat and hard — "thanks to your diabolical brother-in-law , will not be returning."
"Oh dear, what has Lucien done now?"
"I would rather not discuss it in front of the servants." Eva drew her cloak more tightly around herself, hoping Celsie would not see beneath her casual facade, her mask of uncaring aloofness, to the hurt and fear she was hiding just beneath. Andrew's reaction had made her feel awkward and uncomfortable, though she knew it was justified. But what was her cousin feeling? Why, she and Celsie had all but grown up together. She had taught Celsie how to fence. How to shoot. How to make her way in a man's world. Celsie had idolized her. Once.
But that was before the robbery.
Eva doubted Celsie idolized her now. She doubted she even liked her.
"Come, then. Let us take tea in the parlor."
There, the younger woman quickly poured hot, steaming brew for them both. Eva lifted her cup, her stomach roiling as Celsie offered her a plate of cheese biscuits. She shook her head and, paling, bit back a shudder of nausea.
"Eva, forgive me for prying, but are you in some sort of trouble?"
Eva gave a sharp bark of laughter. It was a brittle sound, even to her own ears. She set down her cup in its saucer before she could spill it. "Me? Trouble?" She was in more trouble than she knew what to do with. "Oh, no, Celsie. I am here to make some for the man who has all but ruined my life."
"Lucien? He all but ruins everyone's lives, but I can assure you,
"Yes, Andrew." She smiled, touched her tongue to her fingertips, and smoothed what remained of his russet brows. "I'm sure it will be a valuable contribution indeed, if you survive the experimentation stage." She took his arm. "Do you fancy some tea? It has just gone five o'clock."
He looked up at the sky, thick and gray and swollen with cloud, and shivered, suddenly realizing how cold and raw the day was. "Tea sounds wonderful."
"And an early bedtime?" she murmured, suggestively running her hand up his chest.
His eyes gave her all the answer she needed.
Walking slowly so that Freckles could keep up, they made their way back to the house. The smell of damp earth and vegetation hung over the heath and Freckles even managed to flush a pheasant from a tangle of twisted brambles. It was only as they entered the house that Celsie remembered she had a visitor. Horrified by her lapse of manners, she reached into her pocket to withdraw her guest's card . . .
Just as her cousin came around the corner.
Both women stopped in their tracks, Celsie in shock, Eva with a pleasant smile, as though their last meeting had not been violent, upsetting . . . memorable in the most unfortunate sort of way. Beneath her fingers, Celsie felt Andrew's arm stiffen as his greenish-amber eyes hardened and went cold.
"E-Eva!" Celsie managed, with a nervous smile. "It is a —"
"Pleasure to see me?" her cousin finished with a rueful smile, gazing out at them from beneath the brim of an oversized hat that only emphasized the extraordinary beauty of her features, the mysteriousness of her bearing. "No need to pretend, my dear cousin." She glanced at Andrew, who had turned away, refusing to look at her, refusing, even, to honor her with a bow. "And you, my lord. Has marriage robbed you of your civility?"
"You are the last female on earth deserving of civility," he ground out, and then, bowing to Celsie and not even sparing a nod for Eva, he stalked from the room.
"My, my," breathed Eva, raising her brows. "Not exactly the forgiving sort, is he?"
Celsie, noting Eva's pallor, her brittle demeanor, and the haunted shadows beneath her slanting green eyes, decided to ignore that remark. Something was wrong here. "Come, Eva. Let me offer you some refreshment. Surely you have travelled some distance . . ."
"From France. I arrived just this morning and" — her voice went flat and hard — "thanks to your diabolical brother-in-law , will not be returning."
"Oh dear, what has Lucien done now?"
"I would rather not discuss it in front of the servants." Eva drew her cloak more tightly around herself, hoping Celsie would not see beneath her casual facade, her mask of uncaring aloofness, to the hurt and fear she was hiding just beneath. Andrew's reaction had made her feel awkward and uncomfortable, though she knew it was justified. But what was her cousin feeling? Why, she and Celsie had all but grown up together. She had taught Celsie how to fence. How to shoot. How to make her way in a man's world. Celsie had idolized her. Once.
But that was before the robbery.
Eva doubted Celsie idolized her now. She doubted she even liked her.
"Come, then. Let us take tea in the parlor."
There, the younger woman quickly poured hot, steaming brew for them both. Eva lifted her cup, her stomach roiling as Celsie offered her a plate of cheese biscuits. She shook her head and, paling, bit back a shudder of nausea.
"Eva, forgive me for prying, but are you in some sort of trouble?"
Eva gave a sharp bark of laughter. It was a brittle sound, even to her own ears. She set down her cup in its saucer before she could spill it. "Me? Trouble?" She was in more trouble than she knew what to do with. "Oh, no, Celsie. I am here to make some for the man who has all but ruined my life."
"Lucien? He all but ruins everyone's lives, but I can assure you,
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