Twice the Temptation (7 page)

 
“I say, Connoll, these are exquisite. They must have cost you a few fair pounds.”

 
Connoll shook himself. “More than a few. The biggest expense, though, was getting them out of France before Bonaparte could seize them and barter the lot away for cannon shot.”

 
“And before Wellington could burn them and Paris to the ground. A bold move, Conn. And a brave one. You’ve saved some very significant pieces.”

 
“The bother of it all is that now I’ll have to open my own gallery or something. I’ve room for some of them at Rawley Park, but this is ridiculous. They can’t stay in the hallway. Winters nearly broke his neck on a Rembrandt this morning.”

 
“You could loan them to the British Museum. Anonymously, of course, since traipsing about France isn’t very popular at the moment—even for a just cause.”

 
A museum loan. He’d actually considered it, but hearing Ivey second the notion gave the idea more credence. “You know, I think I may do that.” Connoll cleared his throat, not particularly eager to hear Lewis’s surprise, but knowing he was expected to be curious. “Have we built enough anticipation? Because I’m getting a bit hungry, and if you’re not going to divulge anything, my frustration will sit better on a full stomach.”

 
“Very well.” Ivey drew a breath. “After you left London I met someone. A lady. We’ve seen quite a bit of one another over the past few weeks, though because her husband died just over a year ago I’ve been keeping her identity a secret—you know what damage courting too soon can do to a lady’s reputation.”

 
“Yes, I know. And?” Connoll prompted.

 
“Well, a few days ago I asked her to marry me. She said yes.”

 
Connoll made himself smile. “Well done, Ivey. Congratulations.” He lifted an eyebrow. “You are going to tell me her identity eventually, aren’t you? Sooner or later I’m bound to figure it out.”

 
The earl laughed. “I suppose it’s safe now. Daisy Applegate. Lady Applegate.”

 
“Soon to be Lady Ivey.” Connoll offered his hand. “I’ve met her. She’s lovely. And you two are well suited, I think. You’ve made a good match, Lewis.”

 
“Thank you. She makes me very happy.”

 
“I can see that.”

 
“Yes, well, now we must find a chit for you.”

 
With a snort Connoll headed back down the stairs. “They say a happily married man is the worst sort of matchmaker. You leave me be.”

 
“For the moment, then.”

 
Despite his protest, the image of a chit did cross his
thoughts, and it wasn’t Daisy Applegate, thank God, but a young lady with hazel eyes and a very high opinion of herself. A lady with whom he meant to dance tonight at Almack’s, whether she admitted to wanting to see him there or not.

 
A blast of warm air hit Connoll as he strolled into Almack’s main assembly room. Generally he would rather eat ants than spend an evening at Mayfair’s tamest venue, but he’d promised—or threatened, actually—to be there.

 
As he rounded a flock of debutantes, he spied Evangeline standing with her mother and a tall man who looked to be her father. His pulse stirred. Whatever the devil had happened to him during that carriage accident, Gilly Munroe had seized his attention and refused to let go.

 
“For heaven’s sake, John,” Lady Munroe was saying, her tone impatient, “with you skulking about, no gentlemen will approach Gilly. Please just go stand elsewhere and try to look interesting.”

 
“I’m on my way, Heloise. May I fetch you a lemonade?” the viscount returned mildly.

 
“No. Be sensible, will you? If you fetch us anything, you give gentlemen one less excuse to approach.”

 
Hm. The mother’s tirade explained several things about the daughter. Increasing his pace, Connoll reached the Munroes before the viscount could make himself scarce. “Good evening,” he drawled, keeping his gaze on the family’s patriarch despite the keen desire to look into sharp hazel eyes.

 
“My lord,” the viscountess returned when Gilly kept silent. “You are as good as your word, I see.”

 
“I do try.” He paused for a moment, but when no
introductions seemed to be forthcoming, he stuck out his hand. “Connoll Addison,” he said. “You must be Lord Munroe.”

 
The viscount shook his hand. “I am indeed,” he said warmly. “I was just on my way to…elsewhere.”

 
“It is stifling in here, isn’t it?” Connoll agreed. “I don’t blame you for wanting to escape. In fact, after I secure a place on your daughter’s dance card, I may just join you.”

 
When he finally turned his attention to Gilly, her expression had become an intriguing meld of annoyance and surprise. “I already told you that I won’t dance with you, my lord.”

 
He smiled, wishing for a moment that her parents weren’t present. “Change your mind, Evangeline.”

 
“I don’t wish to change my mind.”

 
“Very well. Then I shall keep you company for the entire evening.” He eyed her coolly. “That won’t prevent any other eligible men from approaching you, I hope.”

 
“You know it will. Why won’t you simply go away?”

 
“Gilly! You shouldn’t speak to a gentleman in that tone.”

 
“But he’s impossible, Mama. What am I to do? I can’t challenge him to a duel.”

 
“All you have to do is give me a dance, and I’ll leave you be for the remainder of the evening.”

 
She glared at him for a moment. “Very well.” Her jaw tight, she pulled her dance card from her reticule and handed it to him.

 
Several spaces were already taken. Lord Redmond had reserved the only waltz of the evening, damn the old fool. Waltzes should be left for those who could enjoy them. Keeping his expression mildly amused, Connoll
selected a country dance toward the end of the evening and handed the card back to her.

 
Gilly gazed at his selection, then lifted her eyes to his. “Now you’ll have to wait about for two hours, and not in my vicinity.”

 
“Mm-hm. Excuse me. Lord Munroe, would you care to step outside for a cigar?”

 
The viscount lifted both eyebrows. “I would love to. My thanks, my lord.”

 
Evangeline had some interesting—and unflattering—ideas about men, and about him in particular. Lord Munroe could very likely be the key to why she held those ideas, and Connoll felt in the mood for some answers. With a nod at Gilly and her mother, he gestured for her father to lead the way outside. Bloody Almacks’s bloody patronesses didn’t allow a gentleman to smoke inside the bloody building. With no liquor served, either, he couldn’t imagine how it had become so popular.

 
“You and my Gilly seem to be having something of a disagreement,” the viscount commented as they stopped at the foot of the front steps.

 
Connoll handed him a cigar. “We’ve been in conflict since the moment we met,” he agreed.

 
With a deep sigh, Munroe breathed in the scent of the cigar. “Very nice,” he said. “Heloise doesn’t allow me to smoke—says it’s a smelly vice—so you have no idea how much I appreciate this.”

 
“If I couldn’t have a cigar on occasion, I think I would consider putting a pistol to my head.” With a swift grin Connoll lifted the glass lamp on the side of one of the waiting coaches and lit his cigar. Munroe followed suit.

 
“It’s not as tragic as that, lad, though…ah…very few things satisfy as well.”

 
Connoll could disagree with that, but since he’d just scheduled a dance with the man’s daughter, he kept his silence. “Why is it that I’ve never seen you in London before?” he asked instead.

 
“My wife doesn’t like me to be gone from Shropshire without her. Now that Gilly’s come of age and we can all journey to London together, well, we did.”

 
“You’re an indulgent husband, my lord. I doubt anything could keep me from London during the Season. For Parliament, if nothing else.”

 
“Ah, Parliament. If everything goes as I hope, I’ll file my intention to sit for next year’s session. I would like to do my duty by my country.” He sighed, taking another puff on his cigar. “Family does come first, however.”

 
“Of course. If I may say, you’ve raised a lovely daughter.”

 
A shadow crossed the viscount’s face. “Yes, thank you. Just like her mother, she is.” He cleared his throat. “You find her amenable, then?”

 
Connoll snorted. He couldn’t help himself. “Amenable? No. But forthright and witty. It’s refreshing, despite the blows to my pride. I’m…fawned over quite a bit, generally.”

 
“Hm. Interesting.”

 
“Why is that?”

 
“Oh, nothing. Just an old father musing to himself.” The viscount pulled out his pocket watch and clicked it open. “I should go see how they’re faring.”

 
From what Connoll had overheard, the viscountess didn’t want her husband anywhere near them. Obviously Munroe had some opinions about things, and just as clearly he had no intention of expressing them to a man he’d only just met. If an extended acquaintance
was what it took to enable him to decipher Evangeline, so be it. Whatever she’d done to him that morning didn’t seem to be waning.

 
“I’ll go with you,” he decided, crushing out his cigar on the carriage’s wheel rim. “I suppose I need to assess my competition.”

 
“You’re sincerely in pursuit of Gilly, then, are you?” her father asked. “With honorable intentions, I presume?”

 
“I wouldn’t be talking with you if they were otherwise, my lord.” A few days ago forming that sentence would have sent him screaming into the night. Perhaps Gilly was a witch. If he was under a spell, though, it was an odd one, since a love spell generally meant that the conjurer was attracted to the conjuree. Miss Munroe had several times looked at him as though she would like to throw him through the nearest window. He grinned, then quickly hid the expression. A better explanation was that he’d simply gone mad. “And to clarify, yes, my intentions are honorable.”

 
“Perhaps you should call me John, then.”

 
“Only if you call me Connoll.”

 
“Agreed, Connoll. I have to say, it’s pleasant to have another gentleman about for me to converse with. A household of females, you know, requires a certain restraint.”

 
Where the Munroe household was concerned, the level of restraint seemed extraordinary. He declined to comment on that, at least for the moment.

 
The sight of Gilly standing before Lord Redmond, though, set him back on his heels again. As he watched, she giggled behind her fan, then playfully cuffed the old man with the ivory-ribbed confection.Good God . Who was this chit? If that had been him standing
there, she would have attempted to remove his head with that fan.

 
“We’ve returned to see whether you require anything, my dears,” the viscount intoned, smiling at his wife.

 
“We’re quite well,” Lady Munroe said, her jaw clenching. “Lord Redmond, are you acquainted with Lord Rawley?”