eagerly nodded their heads affirmatively. She noted that although Lydia retained a fixed smile on her face, she had slightly flinched more than once as Lord Trevlyn praised Patrick to the skies.
Lord Trevlyn continued. “Now what is this nonsense about Evleen being a governess? She will be no such thing. She is to be treated like one of the family, and when it’s time for the London Season, we shall all go, and that includes Evleen and Patrick. I want Patrick to enjoy the sights of London. As for our Evleen”—he cast a warning glance at his sister-in-law—”she shall have a Season, just like your daughters, madam. I shall see to it she has the proper clothes, jewels, furbelows, and whatever else that warms the hearts of young ladies.”
Evleen sat stunned. A London Season? She had not realized. Even in supposedly unenlightened Ireland, she had heard of the London Seasons, where young girls came “out” and had to exhibit the kind of decorum and elegant deportment which would crown a successful Season with marriage.
“But Lord Trevlyn, I cannot,” she protested.
“Whyever not?”
“In the first place, I’m twenty-four, which is much too old. Besides, I have not come ‘out’ and at this late date, I’d look ridiculous.”
“Nonsense. Everyone will know you’re from Ireland. No need for you to officially come “out” as they say.”
“But then, I don’t know if I can...” Evleen struggled to find the right words “…I mean, I’ve led a simple life in Ireland. I don’t know if I’m ready for the dances, the fancy manners, the elegant clothes—”
“The girl has a point,” interjected Mrs. Trevlyn. “In my opinion it would be cruel to foist her upon a society she knows nothing about. She simply doesn’t have the training.”
“Shouldn’t be a problem,” Lord Trevlyn firmly replied. “I trust, Lydia, you and your daughters will take Evleen to your collective bosoms, teach her everything she needs to know.”
Lydia started to protest but Lord Trevlyn raised his hand. “Enough. Evleen shall have a Season, and that’s final.”
Evleen could see further arguing would be futile. And now that she was thinking about it, really, what would it hurt? Visions of exciting London danced in her head. They had passed through that awesome city yesterday, just long enough for her to get a taste of how exciting life must be there. How she would love to go back, stay a while, and see all the sights, and no harm done. Perhaps she might even stumble across that rich and titled Englishman Mama wanted her to find.
Further conversation was cut short when Pierce announced the arrival of Montague, Earl of Eddington, his sister, Penelope, and his brother, Lord Thomas.
Chapter 10
“How I detest these affairs,” declared Montague as he, Penelope and Thomas waited in the entry hall to be announced.
Thomas snorted. “How my heart bleeds for you. I am all sympathy.”
Montague lowered his voice. “You know I cannot abide that dreary woman and her daughters.”
“Oh, come now,” said Penelope, looking lovely in a white bombazine dinner gown trimmed with blue lace, “I can see why you don’t like Charlotte and Bettina, but Amanda is not all that bad.”
“Granted, Amanda is a harmless enough creature, but that boring Bettina. That shallow Charlotte—”
“Whom you’re going to marry, and soon,” Penelope declared. “It’s time you made the best of it, Montague. It’s Papa’s wish.”
“Oh, I suppose.” Montague sighed, obviously resigning himself to a dull evening. “You say the Irish girl will be here?” At Thomas’s nod, he brightened. “Then we’ll soon see if she’s truly as beautiful as you say she is.”
Thomas glared at his brother, heartily wishing he had not even mentioned Evleen, but when he’d arrived home, his thoughts had been so full of her that he couldn’t help describing her in the most glowing terms. “Beautiful or no, Montague, you’re to keep your hands off.”
“There’s a strange bit of brotherly advice,” Montague declared triumphantly. “Could my stalwart younger brother actually be jealous? Damme, if I haven’t hit a vulnerable spot in his psyche.”
Thomas was long past the stage where anything his brother said could make him angry, though he did find himself slightly annoyed. He should not even be that, though. More than ever lately, he felt concern for his brother, who, with his drinking and debauching, was throwing his life away with both hands. “Leave my psyche out of this, Montague. Evleen O’Fallon is a fine woman, as you shall soon see. I have nothing but the utmost respect for her.”