Page 18 of Evie and Louis: The Story so Far

Meet me in the library at midnight tonight with the monstrous dress. For God’s sake, make sure no one sees you.

―Excerpt of a note from Louis César de Montluc, Comte de Villen to Miss Evie Knight (daughter of Lady Helena and Mr Gabriel Knight)

–slipped under her door.

Chapter 11

The Mistletoe Dare

Dearest Evie,

Yes, I am coming to Beverwyck for Christmas! I thought Papa would never agree to it, for he likes us all to be together for the holidays. Mama persuaded him, though, bless her. She’s such a darling. Though I shall miss them both terribly, I won’t miss my brothers—the beasts. They’re forever underfoot, the great lummoxes. Oh, I am so excited to get away from Scotland and have some fun!

―Excerpt of a letter from Lady Georgina Anderson (daughter of Gordon and Ruth Anderson, Earl and Countess of Morven) to Miss Evie Knight (daughter of Lady Helena and Mr Gabriel Knight).

7th December 1840, Beverwyck, London.

Once Georgie had bathed and changed, eaten two large slices of cake, and washed it down with several cups of tea, she felt much more herself, though a headache nagged at her temples still. The journey had been long and fatiguing, and she promised herself a good night’s sleep and a lie in tomorrow. She sent Meg off with strict instructions to have a nap before she did anything else, aware she would suffer the consequences if her maid did not get some rest before she needed to get ready for dinner later. Meg had a clever hand for hair and was the only one who seemed able to contain Georgie’s riot of thick, dark curls with any success. However, she could be ruthless and a little vindictive with hairpins, particularly if she was in a bad mood.

Meg had informed her that several guests had arrived, including Evie Knight, one of Georgie’s best friends. She had not seen Evie since the spring and was looking forward to catching up with her. Not least, she was on pins to set eyes on the mysterious Louis César de Montluc, the Comte de Villen, about whom she’d heard so much. His illegitimate half-brother, Nicolas Alexandre Demarteau, had married the duke and duchess’s eldest daughter, Eliza, causing a terrific stir among the ton. The duke and duchess had disregarded this, welcoming Nic into the family and, along with him, the comte.

Evie had confided how she had befriended Louis César, a circumstance which Georgie found both scandalous and intriguing. That Evie, an unmarried lady only just turned eighteen, had for the past two years apparently been a friend and confidante to a man many years her senior, seemed astonishing. Georgie could not help but wonder why Lady Helena had allowed it, but then she was a sensible woman and presumably she knew best. Whenever anyone but Evie wrote and mentioned the Frenchman, though, all they could speak of was how dreadfully beautiful he was, how deliciously seductive. Phrases like fallen angel, and the handsomest man in the country, perhaps even the world, were repeated often, yet Evie never mentioned him in such a way, insisting they were friends and nothing more. It was all most enthralling.

Still the 7th of December 1840, Beverwyck, London.

Evie laughed as she looked down at the note, slipped under her door.

Evie, you little twit. I would never lie to you. Surely you know that.

Meet me in the library at midnight tonight with the monstrous dress. For God’s sake, make sure no one sees you.

Really, Louis César was foolish if he thought he could make her believe she was a great beauty. She had enough examples of feminine perfection among her friends and family to know what men considered beautiful. Even gorgeous Georgie did not meet the ton’s exacting requirements, simply because she was too tall, whereas Evie was too short, and plain, and plump.

Evie had to admit she had improved a great deal over the past months, but she had a weakness for sweet things, and she did not have the stature to carry off the extra pounds that seemed to accumulate with startling ease. The fact had never much bothered her before, though. She had always been at ease in her own skin. Until recently. Though Evie made light of it, the words of the sought-after modiste, Madame Blanchet’s, about her weight had undermined her confidence and made her unhappy. So much so that she’d even taken the wretched woman’s advice and begun following the lowering diet she had recommended. According to Madame, if she stuck to it, the weight would fall off her in no time. What she didn’t say was that the diet would make feel Evie wretched and light-headed, but she had lost eight pounds so far, so perhaps it was worth it. She wondered if Louis César would notice the change in her.

It had been months since she’d seen him, and then only once or twice during the summer, and she worried he was avoiding her. They corresponded regularly, at least twice a week, but she had noticed his letters changing. They were always amusing and full of news and gossip, but he did not confide in her as much as he once had, and that troubled her. He had no close friends that she knew of and, since his brother had married, he spent more time alone than was good for him. It had been a tremendous relief to her when he had finally given in and accepted the duchess’s invitation to come for Christmas, for Evie could not bear the thought of him spending the festive season all by himself. Well, whatever the problem was, she would discover it over the coming weeks. Somehow, she had to find what made poor, dear Louis so unhappy, and fix it.

Chapter 12

The Mistletoe Dare

Still the 7th of December 1840, Beverwyck, London.

“Evie!” Georgie squealed with delight at the sight of her friend and ran down the last few steps to haul her into an embrace

“Georgie!” Evie’s muffled voice exclaimed from Georgie’s generous bosom. “Can’t breathe!”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Georgie let her go, and returned a sheepish grin.

Evie laughed, a little breathless, and then hugged Georgie again. “It’s lovely to see you. My, but you look well, so….”

“Big?” Georgie suggested sourly. She ought to be used to towering over all the other delicate young ladies by now, but though she loved all her friends dearly, they made her feel like an Amazon. They were all so petite and ladylike, and she… wasn’t.

“I was going to say beautiful,” Evie scolded, and then gave a wistful sigh. “And I’d happily steal a couple of extra inches from you, so don’t go lamenting them on my account.”

“You, my lovely Evie, are small and perfectly formed,” Georgie said firmly. Evie might not have been a classical beauty, but her goodness shone from her, and she had the most startling green eyes, thickly lashed and so expressive. Evie gave her usual snort of amusement, her response to any kind of compliment about her appearance, and Georgie shook her head. “You are, you know. Any man would be lucky to have you.”

Evie shrugged and took her arm. “Yes, but would I be lucky to have them? That’s the trouble. Oh, Georgie, I know it’s dreadful of me to say so, but it’s so hard to find anyone of interest. It’s not like I’m short of offers, but I know most of them are in love with my enormous dowry, not with me. They just seem so false, and you know I cannot abide people who say one thing and mean another.”