Page 37 of Evie and Louis: The Story so Far

“Délicieux,” he said softly.

Evie grinned.

Chapter 18

The Mistletoe Dare

25th December 1840, Beverwyck, London.

Georgie surveyed the parlour. The hour was growing late, and everyone was too full to move after the most splendid Christmas dinner imaginable. Jules had given up on being sociable an hour ago and was stretched out in an armchair, snoring softly. His sister Lottie had fallen asleep against her husband, Cass’s shoulder, while he sketched Evie and the comte. They were both intent on a game of whist, their concentration absolute. The children had been allowed to stay up late, far too excited and full of sweetmeats to go to bed yet… except for one-year-old Octavia, who snuggled in the duchess’s arms, blinking sleepily, determined not to miss anything. Her papa looked on fondly and reached out, stroking the baby’s soft cheek and murmuring something that made Aunt Prue smile up at him with adoration shining in her eyes.

Evie grasped Louis’ hand and tugged him into the dark alcove, pressing a finger to his lips to silence his exclamation.

“Shhh,” she whispered, as his blue eyes widened in surprise. She heard his breath catch, no doubt shocked by her behaviour again, but she grinned up at him. “Look.” She mouthed the word and pointed to the scene in the grand hallway as Georgie ran up to Rochford.

Louis’ hand tightened upon hers as they saw Georgie pull the duke’s head down for a kiss and then stole a mistletoe berry from the bough. They watched the scene in silence until both parties had left. Rochford walking slowly away, with a wide, dazed smile upon his lips.

“She completed her dare,” Evie said, delighted. “I knew she liked him.”

“That was her dare?” Louis asked softly.

Evie looked up to see his eyes glinting in the darkness. “Yes. To kiss a man under the mistletoe. She’s wanted Rochford from the start, but she’s afraid of him, too. I can’t say that I blame her, either. He’s rather daunting.”

“Do you have a dare, Evie?”

Evie shook her head, blushing. “I was too afraid to take one, isn’t that ridiculous? I rather despise myself for it. I’m so spineless, Louis. I wish I were braver, but I’m not.”

Louis scowled, shaking his head. “You’re nothing of the sort. You’re brave enough to rake me over the coals when I’m in the wrong, and there aren’t many who would do that.”

“Because I trust you,” she said, giving him a wry smile. “I find other people harder to navigate and the idea of everyone looking at me makes me feel queasy.”

She pulled a face and Louis chuckled.

“Not everyone wants to be the centre of attention, at least not all the time. Though I think you enjoyed your time as belle of the ball.”

She snorted at the idea she’d been the belle. “Hardly that,” she protested. “But yes, I had fun. I’ve never danced so much in my life.”

“And you’re not… disappointed?” he asked. “About Rochford.”

“Disappointed?” she repeated, puzzled, and then laughed. “You think I was hoping to be his duchess? Good heavens, you’re as daft as Georgie. Do you know she was jealous because I danced with him? As if that was ever in the cards.”

He shrugged, looking away from her. “He’s a duke. You’d have status and wealth—”

“And a man who speaks in grunts and a castle in the middle of nowhere,” she cut in, shaking her head. “I think he’s a good man, and that perhaps Georgie is strong enough to stand up to him when he’s being difficult. She also loves living in the wilds, and stomping miles through mud and rain is her idea of fun. I’d rather read a good book tucked up by the fire with a cup of chocolate in my hand.”

Louis gave a soft laugh and reached out, tucking a loose curl behind her ear. “And you need society. You need people around you and noise and bustle so you can arrange everyone and everything just as you like.”

“Heavens, you make me sound like a despot,” she said indignantly. “It seems I must make many more New Year’s resolutions than I had bargained for.”

“What ones were you planning on making?” he asked.

Evie considered, growing aware that they really ought not linger in the alcove alone. If it were any other man, he might get the wrong idea, but Louis knew her too well to mistake her intentions.

“To have more fun,” she said sheepishly. It wasn’t a very noble aspiration after all, when one should probably resolve to do more work for charity, or to improve one’s mind, or at least eat less cake.

“I should like to help with that,” he said gravely.

Evie nodded, equally serious. “I hope you will.”