At the end of dinner, the ladies repaired to the drawing room, leaving the men to their brandy and cheroots. Lady Lockwood and Lady Cranston chattered eagerly with each other on one sofa, while Grace and Charlotte sat on either side of Evie on the opposite sofa, reminiscing about their school days at Miss Wolcott's.

"But your mother," she heard Lady Lockwood say, and somehow she knew the viscountess was not referring to Lady Cranston's long-dead mother, and she certainly couldn't mean Grace and Charlotte's mother, since Lady Lockwood was their mother.

The fact that Lady Lockwood was also glaring at Evie was a bit of a tell.

"What about her, my lady?"

"She's still courting scandal, isn't she? It's as if she thinks your brother's elevation to an earldom allows her to continue behaving in ways that do not reflect well on her family, but especially you."

"Oh, you mean people expect me to be exactly like her?" Evie suppressed a sigh of aggravation. She'd been hearing this for years.

"That's why I don't understand why she's refused Lord Gareth's offer of marriage," Lady Cranston said in a near whisper, as if she thought Evie wouldn't hear her. Or even as if she weren't there. "Indeed, I know not why he would even offer marriage to her. The young Lord Kingsley I can understand—he's drowning in the River Tick and can't be any more particular than she persists in being. But—"

"I can easily understand why she would refuse Kingsley," Charlotte declared. "Why don't you tell her, Mother? Of how I was almost tricked into marrying him?"

Lady Lockwood rapidly stirred her tea. "I had no idea he'd also offered marriage to Miss Benedict. I will readily concede he is not the most ideal prospect for any young woman, even a spinster at her last prayers."

Evie frantically stirred her own tea. It gave her hands something to do besides throwing it into Lady Lockwood's face.

That face was now fixed on Evie's. "But, my dear, why should you refuse Lord Gareth Armstrong? He may be a second son, and even if you don't love him..."

Oh, but that was the problem. Evie was fairly sure she did. Gareth, however...

"...he's a tormented soul. His heart has been broken, and perhaps he sees you as the one to heal it."

Evie stopped stirring. "Whatever do you mean, my lady? I had no idea about that."

"Tell her, Charlotte. Ethan told you, didn't he?"

"I don't think it's our story to tell, Mother."

"Oh, bother." Lady Lockwood set her teaspoon in the saucer, still pinning Evie with her gimlet gaze. "Lord Gareth was in love with a widow, Lady Ruth Hale, who was going to take Charlotte with her as a companion on a sojourn to the Continent. But then she was killed in a terrible shooting accident at Kingsley Hall in Wiltshire, where they stayed en route to their ship in Bristol. So tragic." She picked up her spoon again, shifting her gaze to Charlotte. "I know I've said this before, but I could have sworn the two of you were going to leave from London."

Evie was almost too stunned to hear another word. That he was already in love with a woman, even if she was now deceased, would certainly explain a great deal about why he didn't love Evie. But if he had been in love, then what was he doing at Madame Delphine's that night, starting things with Evie that he had yet to finish?

"I think he hoped to marry her," Lady Lockwood went on. "And that was why he was also at Kingsley Hall that dreadful day. He was hoping to propose marriage to her and stop her from leaving England. But then the late Earl of Kingsley had to let his pistol go off in front of her while he was toying with it, and it struck her in the heart. So, so tragic."

Evie's mind was awhirl as she recalled that fateful evening at Madame Delphine's. Lady Ruth Hale was the older sister of Lady Flora Benedict, who was married to Evie's own first cousin, Gerald. Flora was the one who'd taken Evie to Madame Delphine's, where she'd encountered Gareth, who'd morosely told her, I've lost someone.

Lady Ruth Hale? She'd died little more than a month ago. She would've been very much alive on That Fateful and Scandalous Night That Changed Evie's Life Forever. Had she also been there at Madame Delphine's?

Or maybe you've just found someone, Evie had said coquettishly, thanks to the mask.

I found her, but at the same time, I lost her. She's gone to someone else, he'd replied.

Yes, Lady Ruth must have been there, too—but not to meet her sister.

Evie finally ventured a sip of her tea. By now it was hopelessly tepid.

Lady Cranston, meanwhile, made a shushing noise. "Here come the gentlemen!"

Here came the gentlemen—Lord Ashdown, Lord Lockwood, Lord Ethan, and Lord Gareth.

Lady Lockwood promptly changed the subject. "Oh, I do hope we shall have fair weather for our journey to Yorkshire, don't you, Lady Cranston? We've had so much rain lately. Do you gentlemen not agree?"

Without even looking at Evie, Gareth said, "More rain would certainly be a good enough reason for me to delay my own journey."

Her heart in her throat, Evie said, "Then have you decided where you shall go on the morrow? To the north or back to London?"

For a moment she thought he didn't hear her. Or that he did, but chose to ignore her. The entire drawing room was silent. Everyone seemed to be holding their breath, waiting for Gareth to declare his intentions, as if the fate of the world hinged on his chosen destination.

He slowly turned to face her, his hands folded behind him as he stood with his back to the fireplace. At least he wasn't frowning. Indeed, he looked rather amused as he surveyed her.

"I realized that now I've left London, it wouldn't make sense for me to go back so soon, and after coming this far, seemingly for nothing now." Despite the twinkle in his green eyes—or maybe that was just a reflection of the candlelight—she thought she detected the merest hint of accusation in his tone. "I thought of continuing to FramptonCastle, thinking I might commiserate with my heartbroken brother, but since he originally went there to shoot grouse with Lord Frampton, and it seems that Lord Frampton will now be occupied with other diversions..." Gareth cleared his throat, and now he no longer looked amused and sounded accusing—he looked and sounded accusing. "...my brother might just take it into his head to shoot something other than grouse. I should hate to find myself in his unpredictable line of fire. He prides himself on being unpredictable."

Evie's gaze did not waver, and she struggled to keep her tone light. "He may even decide to leave FramptonCastle at once, as his host will be diverted elsewhere."

"Indeed," Gareth said with a nod. "So perhaps I shall join the Bellingham house party in Yorkshire. Lady Bellingham did send me an invitation."

"And she does have an eligible daughter," Lady Lockwood piped in.

"Oh, but Marcella," protested Lady Cranston, "I told you I was hoping she might become my companion, since Miss Benedict will no longer oblige me."

Evie was still staring at Gareth, who looked totally amused again. "You never mentioned an invitation to Bellingham Hall."

"Perhaps I thought it would be rude, if you never received one yourself," he replied.

Evie hadn't. Over the years, she'd seldom received invitations to house parties, because of her mother's notoriety. And of course it had always hurt.

But not as keenly as it did now. She'd refused his offer of marriage, and all because she wanted to marry for love, when common sense told her such a thing never happened to anyone she knew.

Well, save for her brother. And Grace and Charlotte. And the Duchess of Halstead. And—

She had to remind herself that neither Lady Cranston nor Lady Lockwood had married for love. And her mother, who was well on her way to having almost as many husbands as Henry VIII had wives, had never married for love, either.

Instead, it had always been to improve her social situation, for what earthly good it did.

And now, because Evie decided to stay put at Ashdown Park and wait for her brother, Gareth was about to pay court to Lady Bellingham's daughter who, if she had more sense than Evie, would eagerly accept his suit, love or no love, and avoid at all costs becoming Lady Cranston's companion.

Her only recourse at this point was to pray for rain, torrential enough that if he wished to continue north, he'd have no choice but to go by ark—if he could build one in time.

She'd never prayed for rain before. In England, there was no need to do so. Nonetheless, just to be on the safe side, when she retired that evening, she knelt at her bedside and asked the Almighty to make it rain. Not enough to require that ark, but enough that the Lockwoods and Lady Cranston, being older, more wary people, would prevail upon Gareth to wait a day or two.

She lay wide awake that night, staring into the darkness, straining her ears for the merest little plop against the window pane, but all she heard, if such a thing could be heard, was silence. Not even the wind blew. Several times she got out of bed to peer out the window. To her chagrin, the moon was full and glowing brightly, with not so much as a wisp of cloud to obscure any one of the hundreds of stars twinkling in a sky of deepest, darkest blue.

The beautiful, moonlit night promised a day perfect for traveling north. There was nothing to keep Gareth here.

Evie didn't know when she finally fell asleep, only that she did at some point, and she awakened to a blaze of glorious sunshine and the sinking knowledge that he'd left her here and she had no one to blame but herself. He'd readily offered her marriage upon learning he'd compromised her, but it proved to be not enough for her. She wanted to marry for love.

And now she wondered if she'd made another terrible mistake.

The clock on the mantel told her it was late morning. He was long gone by now. She tugged on the bell pull, and at length a maidservant came to take her request for a breakfast tray. If breakfast had been served downstairs in the dining room, it would have been hours ago.

The maidservant bobbed a little curtsey and was about to slip back out the door when Evie sat upright and said, "Wait."

The maidservant paused, and waited.

"Did Lady Cranston leave already? And Lord and Lady Lockwood?"

"'Most everyone 'ere last night 'as left already, Miss Benedict. First Lord and Lady Ethan goin' to Bristol to board a ship, and all the others goin' to Yorkshire."

"Then it's just me and Lord and Lady Ashdown."

The maidservant smirked and lowered her voice. "They went back to bed once everyone else left. They do that a lot. They go back to bed at all odd hours o' the day, e'en though they spend all night there."

This was more than Evie wanted to know. "I'll have that breakfast tray, and afterward I might go out for a walk, since the weather is so fine."

Suddenly she regretted staying here, and wished to be far, far away from this huge mausoleum of a house. She had a fairly good idea of why Lord and Lady Ashdown had returned to bed. She'd never felt more in the way.

After breaking her fast, she dressed and commenced walking through the garden, past the summer's last roses, the stalks of gladioli and foxglove and larkspur, the brilliant carpets of marigolds and pansies soaking up this maddeningly rare sunshine while they could. Birds flitted, butterflies fluttered, and Evie fumed as she headed for the small lake that shimmered in the distance, as if it were only a mirage. It certainly resembled an oasis on an unseasonably hot day like this, what with the trees and shrubbery that surrounded it.

As she drew nearer, she thought she heard splashing. Perhaps one of those birds had dived toward the lake, skimming the surface just enough to make the splash and catch a fish.

She reached the water's edge, standing between a tree and a hawthorn bush as she surveyed the shining expanse of green water. She gasped as something emerged from the water on the opposite side. It was too big to be a fish. Could it be a monster similar to the one who supposedly lived in a Scottish loch? It was pale and slim and—

It was a man.

Wasn't it?

Evie held her breath at the realization that he was naked, standing in water waist deep as with both hands he slicked back his dark hair. Then he plunged into the water again and to her astonishment, began swimming toward her.

She watched the foamy fan of water spread out behind his kicking legs as he paddled closer to her side of the lake. He must not have seen her, surely, or he wouldn't be doing this, would he? Evie knew she should turn away and go back to the house, and tell somebody a strange man was swimming naked in the lake. Briefly it occurred to her that he might be one of the estate workers cooling off, but still—why didn't she turn and run?

He was no more than thirty feet from the shore when he suddenly rose up again, water sluicing down his slender, muscular body and glistening in the sunlight as he covered his face with his hands before pushing his hair back yet again.

But this time he wasn't standing waist deep. The water was past his knees, but not quite to the tops of his thighs. She couldn't take her eyes away from what she saw even if she wanted to.

Until he lowered his hands and stared straight back at her in astonishment.

Evie knew this was the part where she was supposed to turn and run. Yet she remained frozen in place, gaping back at him, unable to even scream. For one thing, this was yet another awkward encounter with Gareth, and she couldn't seem to have anything but awkward encounters with him. And for another thing, she didn't want to turn and run.

But she knew exactly what she wanted now.

She wanted him.