Prologue
“And a gentleman should realize that a lady has a
mind of her own, for goodness’ sake.” Evelyn set down her
teacup with a clatter, surprised that the conversation she
and her friends had begun on the manners of men had become
so . . . earnest. She thought she’d accepted that all
males were impossible, but from the ruckus in her heart,
obviously she wasn’t happy about that fact.
Lucinda Barrett and Lady Georgiana Halley were
right in their witty criticisms, as they usually were, and
damn it all, she, too, was tired of being walked all over
by every cravat-wearing member of humanity. Proper
behavior for men. It almost seemed an oxymoron, but
clearly someone needed to do something about their
arrogant, self-involved ways.
Lucinda stood, going to the desk at the other
end of the room. “We should write these down,” she said,
pulling several sheets of paper from a drawer and returning
to hand them out. “The three of us wield a great deal of
influence, particularly with the so-called gentlemen to
whom these rules would apply.”
“And we would be doing other ladies a service,”
Georgiana said, her expression growing more thoughtful as
her own frustration eased.
“But a list won’t do anything for anyone but
ourselves.” Still skeptical at the enormity of such a
task, Evelyn took the pencil Lucinda handed her,
anyway. “If that.” “Oh, yes, it will – when we put our
rules into practice,” Georgiana argued. “I propose that we
each choose some man and teach him what he needs to know to
properly impress a lady.”
“Yes, by God.” Lucinda thumped her hand on the
table.
Evelyn looked from one of her friends to the
other. Her brother would likely scold her for wasting her
time in frivolity, but then he didn’t have to know.
Perhaps he would stay in India forever, and leave them with
one less scoundrel to reform. She smiled at the thought
and pulled her blank paper closer. Truth be told, it was
nice to feel as though she were doing something productive,
whatever small use anyone might make of a list.
Georgiana chuckled as she began writing. “We
could get our rules published. ‘Lessons in Love,’ by Three
Ladies of Distinction.”
Evelyn’s List
Never interrupt a lady when she’s speaking to you, as if
what you have to say is more important.
If you ask for an opinion, expect to receive one, and don’t
make fun of it
Gentlemanly behavior isn’t just opening doors; to make an
impression, you have to be concerned over a lady’s needs at
least as much as your own
Don’t assume, when a lady wants to take up a task or a
cause, that it’s just a “hobby”
Evelyn sat back and looked at what she’d
written, blowing on it to remove the excess pencil lead.
There. That should do it. Now all she needed was a
victim – or rather, a student. “This is fun.”
Chapter One
In law an infant, and
in years a boy,
In mind a slave to
every vicious joy,
From every sense of
shame and virtue wean’d,
In lies an adept, in
deceit a fiend;
Vers’d in hypocrisy,
while yet a child,
Fickle as wind, of
inclinations wild;
Woman his dupe, his
heedless friend a tool,
Old in the world,
though scarcely broke from school.
Damaetas, Lord Byron
One year later.
“I really wish you wouldn’t make such a fuss
about it,” Evelyn Ruddick said, taking a step away from her
brother. “Lucinda Barrett and I have been friends since we
came out together.”
Victor closed the distance between them again,
his tone clipped and annoyed. “Be friends at some other
soiree,” he returned. “Her father doesn’t even have a vote
in the House, and tonight I need you to chat with Lady
Gladstone.”
“I don’t like Lady Gladstone,” Evie murmured
back, stifling a curse when Victor clasped her arm,
preventing her from sidling away again. “She drinks
whiskey.”
“And her husband is an influential West Sussex
property owner. Putting up with a little inebriation is a
small price for a seat in the House of Commons.”
“You only say that because she won’t be
breathing on you. Victor, I came here tonight to dance,
and to chat with my fr–“
Her brother lowered his dark eyebrows. “You
came here tonight because I escorted you. And I only did
that so you would be able to assist me with my campaign.”
They both knew she’d lost the argument before
it began; she frequently had the suspicion that Victor
allowed her to debate him only so he could put her in her
place more often. “Oh, faddle. I liked it better when you
were in India.”
“Hm. So did I. Now go, before one of
Plimpton’s cronies gets to her first.”
Pasting a polite, friendly smile on her face,
Evelyn strolled past the fringes of the crowded dance floor
in search of her brother’s latest source of possible
votes. In all truth, Lady Gladstone’s choice of liquor
wasn’t all that troublesome. Thirty years younger than her
husband, the viscountess had worse habits than whiskey.
And Evelyn had already heard a rumor that one of the worst
was in attendance this evening.
Lady Gladstone sat amidst the scattering of
chairs arranged in a shallow alcove to one side of the
orchestra. Emerald green silk clung closer than paint to
her much-lauded curves as she lounged, her head tilted to
one side. indecent as the sight seemed in Lady Dalmere’s
conservative ballroom, the man who leaned over her
shoulder, his face so close to her ear that dark brown hair
brushed her burnished gold curls, was even more unsettling.
For a moment Evelyn contemplated pretending
that she hadn’t seen anything and walking away, but that
would only give Victor another chance to call her foolish
and empty-headed. So instead she stood there until she
began to feel like a voyeur, then cleared her throat when
she couldn’t stand it any longer. “Lady Gladstone?”
The viscountess lifted dark eyes to
her. “Saint, it seems we have company,” she tittered, her
voice a breathless giggle.
The form leaning over Lady Gladstone’s shoulder
straightened to his full height, and startling gray eyes
took their leisure sweeping the length of Evelyn to her
face. She couldn’t have stopped her blush if her life
depended on it.
All young ladies mindful of their reputations
made a point of staying well away from the tall, jaded, and
devilish handsome Marquis of St. Aubyn. If not for her
brother’s political ambitions, Victor wouldn’t have allowed
her anywhere near Lady Gladstone for exactly that reason.
“My lord,” she said belatedly, gathering her
wits enough to dip in a shallow curtsy, “good evening.”
He gazed at her for another moment, his wicked,
sensual mouth turning upward in the faintest of cynical
smiles. “It’s still too early to tell.” Then, without
another word, he turned on his heel and strolled away
toward the gaming rooms.
Evelyn let out the breath she’d been
holding. “That was rude,” she muttered, once he was out of
earshot.
Lady Gladstone chuckled again, her own cheeks
flushed – and not from the warm room, Evelyn decided. “My
dear Miss Whoever You Are,” the viscountess
murmured, “Saint doesn’t have to be good, because he’s so
very . . . very, bad.”
Well, that made no sense. She hadn’t barged
in, though, to debate the merits of poor behavior. “I am
Evelyn Ruddick, my lady,” she said, curtsying again. “We
attended the Bramhurst Christmas soiree together, and you
said I might call on you in London.”
“Oh, dear me, I am too generous, sometimes.
What was it you wanted from me, Miss . . . Ruddick?”
Evelyn hated this part, mostly because it
always entailed lying. And she detested lying. “Well,
first of all, I wanted to tell you that your gown is
absolutely the most splendid creation I have ever seen.”
The viscountess’s lounging curves became even
more pronounced. “How very sweet of you, dear.” Full lips
smiled. “I would be happy to recommend my dressmaker to
you. I’m certain you and I are of nearly the same age,
though your . . . bosom is less . . .”
Obvious, Evelyn finished silently, hiding her
scowl. “That would be most kind of you,” she said
instead. Though she would have rather swallowed a bug,
Evie went closer, taking the seat beside the
viscountess. “I had heard,” she continued in a more
conspiratorial tone, “that you are greatly responsible for
your husband’s political success. I . . . am somewhat at a
loss as to how to assist my brother, Victor, in the same
arena.”
Lady Gladstone’s distant expression warmed into
one of calm superiority. “Ah. Well, first, of course, you
must know the right people. That’s–“
”Where is he?” Round, soft face red as a beet
and his prominent eyes protruding even more than usual,
Lord Gladstone huffed toward them, planting his feet
squarely in front of his wife. “Where is that scoundrel?”
The viscountess straightened, obviously in a
belated attempt at innocence. “Whom are you looking for,
my love? I’ve been having a coze with Miss Ruddick, here,
but I’ll happily help you search.”
Wonderful, Evie thought, as the viscount’s eye-
popping gaze turned in her direction. All she needed was
to become involved in one of St. Aubyn’s infamous
scandals. Victor would never allow her out of the house
again – even if this was actually his fault.
“You know damned well who I’m looking for,
Fatima. You, girl, have you seen that scoun–“
”Evie! There you are!” With her usual
splendid timing Georgiana, Lady Dare, swooped up to their
group and grasped Evelyn’s hands. “You must come settle an
argument. Dare insists that he’s right, when we both know
that he never is.”
Evie settled for nodding at the Gladstones as
Georgie towed her to the safer, less scandal-ridden part of
the ballroom. “Thank goodness,” she exclaimed. “I thought
I was doomed.”
“What in the world were you doing with Lady
Gladstone?” Georgiana asked, releasing her.
She sighed. “Ask Victor.”
“Ah. Your brother’s trying to take Plimpton’s
seat in the House, isn’t he? I’d heard a rumor.”
“Yes, he is. It’s so . . . aggravating. He’s
spent most of the last five years out of the country, and
he still never even asks my opinion about anything or
anyone in London. He just sends me to chat with whomever
he deems most useful.”
Georgiana’s expression became more
thoughtful. “Hm. Well, siblings weren’t precisely what we
had in mind, but you might make Victor the object of your
lesson.”
“Absolutely not,” Evie answered,
shuddering. “I’m waiting for Lucinda to take her turn,
first. And besides, as close as you came to maiming Dare,
I’d probably end up murdering Victor.”
“If you say so. In my experience, though, the
object of your lesson may just choose you.”
“Ha. Not as long as I’m being charming and
empty-headed for Victor’s silly political friends. They
wouldn’t dare be anything but polite. Heavens, someone
might scowl at them.”
Lady Dare laughed and took Evie’s arm
again. “That’s quite enough of that. Come on and dance
with Tristan. You may even kick him, if you’d like.”
“But I like your Tristan,” Evelyn protested,
grinning and thankful for good, apolitical friends. “He
scowls from time to time.”
Georgiana’s smile softened. “Yes, he does,
doesn’t he?”
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