How to Plan a Wedding for a Royal Spy (8 page)

“Are you sure?” Evie whispered to him. “I know how you detest that sort of outing. And we have so much work to do.”

Michael gave her such a sweet smile that Evie remembered why she was going to marry him. She wasn't madly in love with him, but no man had ever treated her with such courtesy and consideration. That surely counted a great deal more than passion, or the quivery feeling one got behind the knees when a certain person walked into the room.

But even as Michael assured her that he was agreeable to the change in plans, Evie felt Will's gaze pulling at her, so familiar and strong that it frightened her. Reluctantly, she met it head-on, expecting to see sardonic amusement over this morning's domestic tempest in a teapot.

But it wasn't amusement or even mockery she discerned in his gaze. His expression was intent as he studied her, and when his gaze flicked over to Michael, it darkened with something that looked surprisingly like resentment. Or was it jealousy?

That, she told herself as she rose to her feet, simply couldn't be true.

Evie hurried through the entrance hall as she pulled on her gloves. She was woefully late since she'd been dragging her feet upstairs in the vain hope that the riding party would leave without her. In fact, she'd almost worked up the courage to defy her mother's orders when Eden had rushed in, determined not to leave without her.

“I know you don't want to see Will,” her sister had said, “but you can't hide away forever. The war is over and we'll be running into him on a regular basis, so you'd better get used to it. Besides, Mamma will raise a horrid fuss and that benefits no one, especially Michael.”

That annoying logic had punctured Evie's resistance. Drawing her mother's fire onto Michael's head was hardly fair, given the noble gesture he'd already made to deflect her ill temper.

Smiling absently at the footman holding the door open, Evie rushed outside but was forced to pause under the portico until her vision adjusted to the bright morning sunshine. The effect was always intensified by the glare off her spectacles' lenses, and it took a few moments until the motes dancing in front of her eyes began to clear.

“About time.” Eden grinned at her from atop Castor, her bay gelding. “I thought we were going to have to send out a search party.”

“They wouldn't have had to search very hard, would they?” Evie replied tartly as she descended the shallow marble steps.

Castor shook his head, obviously eager to be off. Eden settled him with an easy touch, totally in control of the large horse. She looked enchanting, as usual, in her forest-green riding habit and dashing feathered cap.

It always amazed Evie that her sister rode so confidently given the fact she refused to wear spectacles. Evie's heart leapt to her throat every time her twin took a hedge or soared over a ditch, but Eden never seemed to falter. She'd developed strategies over the years to compensate for her poor eyesight, one of which had been to find and train Castor until he was uncannily attuned to his mistress. It was the only thing that kept Evie from blurting out hysterical warnings every time her sister galloped out in her bold, fearless style.

She glanced around the small group on the gravel drive, mounted and ready for their expedition. Michael smiled down at her from one of the gentler horses from Maywood's stables, while Captain Gilbride allowed his gigantic black stallion to prance around the forecourt. Lord Deerling and Sir Reginald Baskerton, two of Eden's most persistent suitors, had joined them as well, flanking Eden as they vied for her attention.

But Will was missing, as was a groom with Evie's horse.

“Where's Pollux?” she asked, referring to her gelding. She didn't enquire after Will, since she had no intention of displaying any interest in him.

“Lady Reese thought you might be more comfortable riding in Will's curricle,” Gilbride answered. “Capital idea, as I told your dear mamma. That way you can also bring the picnic basket. I must admit to already feeling rather peckish, despite this morning's excellent breakfast.”

When that comment earned him an incredulous stare from Eden, Gilbride simply gave her a dazzling grin in return. The big Scotsman's smile could disarm any female, but right now Evie had to resist the impulse to throw her hat at him. Logic told her that it wasn't his fault she had to ride with Will—that was entirely Mamma's doing. Then again, Gilbride
had
been the one to suggest this morning's dreary little outing, so perhaps she needn't feel guilty for wanting to bash him over the head.

“I am, of course, pleased to be of assistance, Captain Gilbride,” she said. “I had thought to ride today, but Lord knows we don't want you missing a meal. You might faint from hunger and fall off your horse.”

Gilbride's eyes widened at her retort, which instantly made Evie feel better. Her riposte had been terribly ill-mannered, but she would be sure to say extra prayers at church on Sunday to make up for it.

“I'm sorry, darling,” Eden said, trying not to laugh. “I tried to dissuade Mamma, but she was adamant that it would be
more fun
for you.”

“I must remember to thank her,” Evie responded dryly.

Oh well, at least she could use the opportunity to apologize to Will. And since they would be in an open-air carriage, surrounded by the riders, things couldn't get too intimate. Eden would try to stick close and no doubt Michael would ride next to the carriage whenever the width of the laneway allowed. Really, there was no reason for her heart to thump so erratically or for her palms to feel damp inside her tightly fitted gloves.

But a moment later, when Will's curricle appeared beneath the stone arch leading from the stables, Evie knew there was more than a little cause for concern.

He drove a beautifully matched pair of grays, expertly wheeling them in a neat circle to the front of the house. As she might have expected, he handled the rig with skill and confidence, his impressive masculine form on full display since the warm September day obviated the need for a caped driving coat. His perfectly cut, form-fitting blue coat showcased his broad shoulders, and his biscuit-colored breeches clung like a second skin to his long, muscular legs. He rested one booted foot against the gently curving dashboard, smiling down at her as he brought the horses to a smooth stop.

“Your carriage awaits, my lady,” he said, sweeping off his hat with an uncharacteristic flourish. His smile widened into a grin as roguish as one of Captain Gilbride's.

Though she'd been immune to the Scotsman's attempt to charm her, Will succeeded in raising a flutter of nerves in her belly. Evie realized, with no small degree of dismay, that no other man's smile—not even Michael's—held anything like the same power.

As she struggled to respond to this unfamiliar, debonair version of Will, his smile faded into a puzzled expression. “Evie, are you all right?”

“Um, yes, of course,” she said.

Trying not to appear as flustered as she felt, she gathered her skirts and reached for Will's outstretched hand. But Michael had dismounted and rushed over to help her.

“Please, take my hand, Evelyn,” he said in a kind voice at odds with the nasty look he directed at Will.

Will regarded Michael as if he were a lower order of species. Evie was sure his father, the Duke of York, could not have looked more arrogant than he did glaring down his nose at the other man. It almost appeared as if the two were marking their territory, for lack of a better term, and
she
was apparently the territory.

She turned her nose up at Will's outstretched hand in favor of accepting Michael's assistance. She gave her well-mannered beau a warm smile—partly to compensate for the instinctive, disloyal response that Will had so easily called forth from some idiotically feminine part of her.

“I hope you'll ride next to the curricle,” she said to Michael, ignoring the clearly annoyed male sitting next to her. “Perhaps we can discuss a bit of business instead of wasting the entire afternoon in frivolous pursuits.”

“If there's anyone who's earned an afternoon of frivolity, it's you,” Michael replied in an earnest manner. “But I'm happy to keep you company. If, that is, Captain Endicott doesn't mind.”

“I don't mind at all,” Will replied with a rasp that sounded rather like a snarl. “If you can keep up,
that is.
”

He sprang the horses, enveloping Michael in a cloud of dust. Evie grabbed the side of the carriage, then twisted around to see her beau sneezing into his handkerchief. Eden and her escorts were already cantering in the carriage's wake, while Captain Gilbride politely waited for Michael to recover and mount his horse.

“That was rude,” she said sternly to Will. “You almost knocked poor Michael off his feet.”

His brawny shoulders lifted in an easy shrug. “He was annoying me.”

“Well,
you're
annoying
me.
”

He again flashed her that simultaneously disturbing and appealing rogue's grin. “No, I'm not. I can always tell when you're truly annoyed.”

She refused to dignify such a ridiculous statement, staring straight ahead as she adjusted her hat that had been knocked askew by their sudden start. Aside from the fact that Will
was
acting in an abominably rude fashion, Evie couldn't deny she felt just a tiny bit flattered. Men never brangled over her, and she had to admit it was rather fun.

Until she remembered how Will had chosen
not
to fight for her, all those years ago. In fact, he'd let her slip out of his life with barely a whimper.

The sun chose that moment to slip behind a cloud, and Evie shivered with a sudden chill. At least she hoped it was a chill, because the idea that Will still had the power to make her feel somehow lacking was a thoroughly depressing thought.

He glanced over. “Are you cold? I have a lap blanket under the seat. Would you like me to pull it out for you?”

“Of course not,” she said. “It's a lovely warm day, and the sun will be out from behind that cloud in a moment.” She glanced over her shoulder at the riders. “I do think you should slow down, though. The others are having trouble catching up.”

He shrugged. “As you wish.” His fingers moved slightly on the traces, but it seemed to have no discernible effect on the horses.

She resisted the impulse to shake her head at him, knowing he would do exactly as he pleased. There had never been much point in arguing with Will—she
always
capitulated in the end—so she turned her attention to the landscape around her as they bowled down the winding drive from Maywood Manor to the main road. To the west lay the tenant farms, their fields lush and golden with ripening grains. The home woods ran to the east and the south, and a wide turn soon brought the curricle under a magnificent stand of oaks that marched along the drive to the gatehouse.

It was all so blessedly familiar as, she had to admit, was the presence of the man next to her. And it was all too easy to mentally slip back to the days when she and Will had spent hours driving together in his little gig, so happy in each other's company.

He'd loved to tell stories back then, inventing tall tales about a boy named Ethelred Bracegirdle who'd run away from home, traveling to Egypt and the Orient to seek his fortune. Though ridiculous, most of the stories were so funny that Evie usually ended up collapsed with laughter. Only later, when Will had joined the army and left his old life behind, did she realize that those tales were the expression of his own longing for adventure.

She stifled a self-pitying sigh as she remembered how much she'd loved their times together, regardless of the disappointments that had come later.

As he slowed to pass the gatehouse and turn through the old stone gates into the narrow country lane, she had a vivid flash of the day he'd taught her to drive on this very lane. It had been in a little pony cart on a mild September day such as this. Though Evie had only been twelve, it was the day she'd started to fall in love with Will, as ridiculous as it was to say now. But as his hands had closed over hers, helping her to guide the pony, she'd felt an internal jolt she could still remember. And when he'd looked down at her, his silvery-blue eyes warm with affection and laughter, Evie had been lost. Since then, there'd never been another man who evoked the same feeling in her—a bright joy that seemed to spring from glorious, carefree days, and a summer that never ended.

Back then he'd been only a boy, but now he was a man—and a powerful, intensely attractive one at that. His big, Corinthian's body crowded her on the seat, and even though they drove under an open sky, the intimacy threatened to smother her.

She sucked in a deep breath to ease the constriction in her chest. God only knew the havoc Will would play on her emotions—on her life—if she let her guard down with him. Even worse, to allow an attraction to him again would be a terrible betrayal of Michael, a man who had gifted her with a renewed sense of purpose in life. What could she ever truly hope for from Will except heartache and disappointment?

“What's wrong, Evie?” he asked in a quiet voice.

She startled. “Nothing. Why do you ask?”

“I remember that particular sigh. It means you're not happy about something.”

She sat up straighter, trying to put some distance between them. The blasted man was impossibly large, and the Lord knew she wasn't exactly a tiny thing. Between the two of them and the excess material of her riding habit, it was a miracle they were even able to fit into the curricle.

“I'm fine.” She flashed him what she hoped was a nonchalant smile. “I hardly think you know me very well, given the passage of time since we were children. I've grown up, Will.”

He glanced down at her, his gaze lingering on her face and then moving to her bosom. “You certainly have.”

Her mind blanked, struggling to find an appropriate reply. Unfortunately, there didn't seem to be one.

Cautiously, she peered up at him. She hadn't been sure before, but now it did seem clear that Will was flirting with her. Not that she was adept at flirtation, or even in recognizing the signs. In fact, she was monumentally bad at it. But she surely wasn't mistaking the heat in Will's eyes that had made them darken like smoke curling up from a blue flame.

When his lips tilted up in an amused smile, she realized her mouth was hanging open. She snapped it shut and jerked her head forward. “Will, you should keep your eyes on your pair. This road is quite bad after all the rains we've had this summer.”

His low laugh did things to her nerves and insides that defied description. It was beginning to dawn on Evie that what she'd felt for Will as a girl—as powerful as that had been—had lacked a full awareness of his potent physical attractions.