Page 20 of Evie and Louis: The Story so Far

Evie hesitated at the top of the stairs as she heard muffled voices from below. Footmen spoke in hushed tones before walking off and going about their business. She held her breath, cursing to herself as her stomach rumbled ominously. Drat the thing, if her stomach made a racket and got her caught, that would just be typical of her luck. She’d barely eaten a thing at dinner, which had been utter misery as she’d watched all the mouth-watering courses come and go, but she was determined to do her best. Louis had promised to fix the horrid pink gown she was wearing, or burn it, but if she were just a few pounds lighter, it would make the job much easier, surely?

Evie waited until she was certain the servants had carried on their way, then picked up her skirts and ran down the steps, the material billowing and rustling as she went. She could not help but grin as she ran through the darkened corridors and rooms on the way to the library. There were stunningly beautiful women of all ages who would go to extreme lengths to be alone with Louis César and here she was, plain little Evie Knight, meeting him in private. Of course, there was nothing the least bit romantic in their meeting, but it amused her to imagine their reaction should any of those women discover it. Not that they ever would. No one must ever know, for it would be a shocking scandal and then poor Louis would have to marry her. That would never do, though she wished she could find a nice, kind woman who would love and care for him as he deserved. She had tried, but no one ever seemed to be quite right. Yet, anyway. But surely there must be someone for him. Georgie, for example, was very kind and loving, and the sight of Louis had certainly made an impression on her. Evie remembered her friend’s stunned expression with amusement.

She quickened her steps as she reached the library door and, with one last furtive look over her shoulder, she slipped inside.

It was dark, apart from the warm glow cast from the hearth, where a fire burned low.

“Louis?” she whispered. As there was no answer, she moved towards the fire to wait for him. A few minutes later, the ornate grandfather clock that stood in the entrance hall chimed the hour as the door opened silently and a tall figure entered the room.

“Louis!” Evie exclaimed, and ran to him, hugging him tight.

“Evie, you little wretch,” he said with a sigh as his arms closed around her. “You nearly did that earlier in front of everyone and set them all talking.”

“I know, I am sorry,” she said sheepishly. “Only it’s been months and months, and I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too, ma petite.” He hugged her briefly before letting her go. “Now, let us have a proper look at this offensive gown and see what we can do with it.”

Evie waited, holding onto a chair as she felt a little lightheaded. She was curious to know what on earth he had in mind for the ugly gown she was wearing. Louis crouched by the fire to light a taper and then went and lit the lamps. When he was satisfied there was enough light, he turned back to her. As they had done earlier, his brows drew together. Well, it was an ugly gown.

“Evie? Are you certain you are quite well?” he asked, moving closer to her.

“Yes, of course,” she said, impatient to know his opinion of her horrid pink dress. “Now, what do you think of it? Isn’t it vile?”

She turned in a circle to give him a good look and gasped as the room tilted.

“Evie!”

Strong arms caught her around the waist, and Louis hauled her against his muscular, warm body. Evie gasped in shock, still too dazed to respond, as he lifted her as though she weighed nothing, which was certainly not true.

“I—” she said, disorientated and giddy. She put her hands to her temples and closed her eyes, too weak to protest as Louis carried her and laid her carefully down upon a settee.

“Merde! What the devil have you been up to, you little fool?” he demanded, his voice hard and angrier than she had ever heard it.

“Nothing!” she protested, not understanding what she’d done to deserve such a scold.

“Rien!” he retorted, shaking his head. “That is a lie. You barely ate a mouthful at dinner, and don’t tell me otherwise, for I was watching. You’ve lost weight, far too much, and you’re so pale. Mon Dieu, Evie, what were you thinking?”

Evie’s eyes prickled with embarrassment and humiliation at his words. “W-Why shouldn’t I try to lose weight? Everyone else does it and Madame Blanchet said—”

“Madame Blanchet? She told you to starve yourself? Well the wretched woman can go to the devil, and so I shall tell her,” he raged, his eyes sparking blue fire.

“Oh, no! No, Louis, you must not,” she said, reaching out to clasp his arm. “Think of the scandal. It’s not at all appropriate.”

His expression was rather daunting as he turned on her, for she had never seen him angry with her. “And since when do you give a damn about propriety? You are here alone with a man who could ruin you, and do you care?”

Evie put her chin up. “You would never hurt me.”

“So much you know,” he said savagely, tugging his arm free and walking away from her. He stood staring down at the fire, his shoulders rigid.

“Louis?” she said, uncertain now, never having encountered her friend in this kind of mood before. There was a long silence, followed by a muttered curse. Louis ran a hand through his hair and then turned back to her.

“I am sorry, Evie,” he said, his voice low. “I beg you will forgive me. I ought never have spoken to you so harshly.”

“It was nothing, please, let us forget it…” she began, but Louis crossed the floor and knelt beside her, taking her hand.

“Non! It is not nothing, and neither is that dreadful woman making you feel anything less than beautiful nothing. She has no right to make you unhappy, and neither do I. My only defence is that it makes me furious to see you make yourself ill, and for what? To look like another dull little debutante, just like all the others, when the world already has its fill of those.”

Evie felt her eyes burn again and looked away, embarrassed. She had long been accustomed to being the plain, plump one among a bevy of beautiful women, but to have to discuss it with Louis… How mortifying. Yet, he was her dearest friend, and who else would she speak to?