Page 16 of Sinfully Daring

“Anyway, enough gossip and tittle-tattle. We must go and dress or Jules will throw a fit. You know how he cannot abide tardiness in anyone but himself.”

Rosamund laughed, relieved to change the subject, and hurried after her mama to ready herself for the ball. As she climbed the stairs, she could not help but reflect that Lord Hargreaves was right, they ought not seek each other’s company out so often, and only ever with others present. She saw too late that she was more than a little fond of the man, and that would not do. To interfere in another’s marriage, no matter the circumstances, was beyond the pale. To harbour feelings for someone else’s husband—oh, no. That was an appalling situation that could only make her miserable, and if anyone else knew—if Hargreaves knew—Rosamund went hot and cold at the idea.

Hurrying to her room, Rosamund greeted her maid and readied herself for the evening, with the determination that she would act precisely as she ought to do. She would dance and converse with her friends, and keep an eye out for a man who might be everything to her that her father was to her mother.

A good, strong, decent, kind, loyal, unmarried man who would never let her down.

1st July 1842, Peregrine House, Grosvenor Square, London.

“Papa?”

Evie’s father looked up from his desk as she spoke. A nervous sense of foreboding skittered down her spine as she stood in the open doorway, the sense that she was in trouble looming over her like the villain in a Gothic novel.

“You wanted to see me?” she managed, aware her voice quavered somewhat.

“I did, yes, love. Come in and close the door.”

Evie did as he asked and walked into the room, her heart thudding unpleasantly. Don’t let this be about Louis, she prayed silently, though somehow she’d known this day would come, eventually.

“Sit down,” her father said as he got up and moved around to the front of his desk.

He leaned back upon it, looking down on her. Love and warmth shone in his eyes as always and Evie told herself she was silly to be so anxious. He was her darling Papa and would never hurt her. Yet the sensation remained.

“We must talk, I think.”

“Oh?” she said, her voice unnaturally high, betraying her nerves.

He nodded, his expression grave. “I never explained why we left so suddenly, did I? Yet I believe you know. I very nearly dismissed Neil when I discovered he had been your messenger to the Comte de Villen.”

Evie felt the blush steal up over her chest, her throat, her cheeks burning. “Papa, no,” she said, as her stomach roiled with misery. “It was not his fault. I—”

“I know. You should never have put him in such a position,” her father said firmly. “If anyone had found out, you’d be ruined. You understand that?”

“Lo—” Evie began before snapping her mouth shut. “He would have married me.”

“We shall get to that,” her father said, his voice dark. “I will not ask you to explain yourself, or demand for how long this ill-advised friendship has been going on. That your mother has seen fit to allow it at all has been a source of contention between us these past weeks. She naturally has a romantic streak and sees in Villen a likeness to me and our situation.”

Evie dared a glance at him, hope flickering in her heart that this might not be so bad as she’d feared.

“It’s not the same, Evie, love,” he whispered. “Bedwin didn’t want me to marry your mother, partly because of the inequality of our positions. There is no denying your mother’s status in society was damaged by marrying me. That is not the case here. It’s true that I was a devil with women and hard living, but the comte goes far beyond anything I ever did. My biggest crime was being born in the workhouse. I was a gambler and libertine, yes, but I worked hard for what I have. Honest work.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, breathing hard. Her fingers gripped the edges of the chair so tightly it was painful.

“I have done some investigating these past months. I sent men to France to see what they could discover about the comte, which, to begin with, was very little apart from the obvious. Though I must tell you now, I have known for some time that Villen and his brother made the money to finance their club as jewel thieves, breaking into people’s houses to relieve them of their valuables. They told me that themselves some years ago.”

Evie’s eyes grew wide, and she remembered then how easily Louis had climbed into her bedroom to deliver her birthday present. Oh.

“Rouge et Noir is an exclusive club where dukes and princes may mingle freely with artists and bohemian types—if they can afford it. There is a deal of mystery about what else goes on there, however. So much so that it cannot be anything good, but that is a minor point. If it were only the club and the stealing, perhaps I could turn a blind eye, but it is not.”

He paused, watching her reaction and Evie forced herself to wait when she wanted to demand what more he had found out that was so very damning.

“The Comte de Villen has a half-brother, as we all know, but there is another man closely associated with him. They are not of the same blood, but consider themselves family from what we could gather.” He paused, his expression one of sympathy. “Why do you think it was so hard to gain this information, Evie?”

“Because there is nothing to discover, perhaps?” Evie countered, knowing that was not it but feeling the need to defend Louis, even though she suspected that everything she had feared about a future with him was true, and far worse than she’d imagined.

“Because everyone is too damned terrified to speak about him, because Wulfric de Vere is the king of the Parisian underworld and the comte’s protégé. So who do you think put him there?”

Evie swallowed, hearing the words but not making sense of them. “Underworld?” she repeated, imagining Hades and pomegranate seeds before scolding herself for being fanciful. Except she could too easily imagine Louis as Hades, a wickedly beautiful god, tempting her, daring her to live in the darkness with him.