Page 54 of Evie and Louis: The Story so Far

Louis smiled as Evie let out a huff of frustration.

“Oh, drat it. Another dead end. I felt certain this was the right way. We shall be here all day at this rate.” She glared at the thick green hedge in consternation and turned back to him with a swish of skirts and petticoats.

“Tant pis,” Louis murmured, not minding the idea in the least.

“You’re not helping much,” she said, giving him a sideways glance.

Louis shrugged. “But you are doing admirably, ma petite.”

“No, I’m not,” she laughed. “We’re horribly lost.”

“Alas, such a dreadful fate to be lost in a labyrinth with me.”

Evie’s expression was one of amusement now as she took his proffered arm. “You’re fishing for compliments,” she observed.

“You know me too well,” he replied with a mournful sigh. “But if I do not fish, they never surface of their own accord.”

She made a muffled sound of outrage that made him smile. “Silly creature. You’ve leagues of women ready to pour the butter boat over your head. You know full well the reason you like my company is that I don’t treat you like some earthbound deity.”

“This is true, but a fellow becomes accustomed to such meaningless flattery, and so when it is entirely absent, one becomes… anxious. I am a restless fellow, truly. If I do not have constant reassurance, I fret, fearing my worth and my company do not bring you pleasure.”

She darted him a curious glance, for despite his teasing manner there had been too much truth in those words, and she’d heard it.

“I believe you are still fishing, but I shall reassure you all the same, for you are my favourite person in the world outside of my family, Louis. Surely you know that much?”

He smiled at her, wondering why such a heartfelt compliment only made his chest tight.

“As you are mine.”

They walked on in silence, the labyrinth leading them in ever decreasing circles. Evie was quiet and Louis watched her, aware something troubled her.

“Are you going to tell me what is worrying you, love?”

Her brow furrowed a little, and she pursed her lips. Louis tried not to stare, but she had a delectable mouth, a perfect cupid’s bow and a full lower lip, soft and kissable, and he was going out of his bloody mind. Here they were, alone, in a romantic setting, and he was too terrified of scaring her off and ruining everything to make a move. Putain.

They reached another dead end, and instead of turning, Louis stopped. He reached out and gently lifted her chin, forcing her to look at him.

“Evie,” he said softly. “Unburden yourself.”

She licked her lips as she considered, and desire shafted through Louis, the need to take her in his arms so fierce it made his skin ache.

“It’s silly,” she said, looking adorably flustered. “You’ll laugh.”

Louis frowned. “I certainly will not. I would never laugh at anything that causes you a moment’s disquiet.”

Evie let go of his arm and tangled her fingers together nervously. “Well,” she said. “Last night at the ball….”

Some instinct told Louis he would not want to laugh at what came next. He might want to do murder, or to destroy something, or more likely someone, but he would not laugh.

“I went for a walk about the hotel with Mr Cooper—it was all quite proper as lots of other people were doing likewise,” she hurried on, probably sensing the change in his manner, for it was all he could do to keep his expression impassive.

Mr Cooper. Louis brought to mind the image of one of Evie’s many suitors. A pleasant enough young man, a year or two her senior. Then he imagined the pleasant fellow’s imminent demise.

“Am I to take it Mr Cooper took liberties?” Louis asked, his voice a growl, though how he’d got the words out at all he wasn’t certain.

“Oh, no. Not really,” Evie said, blithely unaware of the havoc she was wreaking with her words. “Only, we turned a corner and for a moment no one was about and so… and so he… kissed me.”

So, this was what hell felt like, Louis thought wildly. Not only had it not been him kissing Evie, now he was reduced to the position of her confidant, forced to listen to a description of the advances of some panting boy. Dieu ait pitié. Had he really been so wicked in the past that he must now be punished so severely?