before Thomas could retaliate, Pierce invited them into the drawing room.
Stunning. That was all Thomas could think when he saw Evleen. Even when she wore her simple Irish garb, he had known she was beautiful, yet he had hardly been prepared for this elegantly coiffed and gowned creature who returned his bow with a graceful curtsey. How striking was the charming contrast of her snow white skin against the deep orange of her low-cut dinner gown. Cappucine, he thought the ladies called it. Whatever the color, just looking at her caused a lurch of excitement within himself.
This was ridiculous. He must stop acting like a green school boy. Fresh in his mind was the conversation he’d just had with his father, still confined to his room with the gout.
“So you like and admire this young woman,” the Marquess commented, after Thomas’s detailed description of his journey.
“Very much so,” Thomas had answered. “I find her witty, intelligent, and charming.” had felt like adding, and intensely exciting, but thought better of it.
“Surely you have not forgotten Miss Bettina Trevlyn,” the Marquess reminded him, wincing from the pain of his gout.
“No, I have not, but bear in mind I have not yet proposed to Miss Trevlyn. However...” Thomas carefully formed the words to explain. “Marriage is not a consideration. Miss O’Fallon is betrothed to an Irishman named Timothy Murphy.”
His father nodded. “There you have it, then. Honor decrees—”
“I know about honor, Papa,” Thomas testily replied, in no mood for a lecture.
“Even Montague would not deign to dally with a married woman or one betrothed.”
“One of his few virtues.” A lie. Thomas knew differently, but his father had been disappointed enough without knowing the whole truth about Montague.
Thomas proceeded to inform his father how happy he was his journey to Ireland was over and how eager he was to get about the business of breeding Thoroughbreds. He found he was feigning part of his eagerness, though. To his growing chagrin, since the day he’d returned to that small cottage in County Claire, nearly every waking thought in his head had been of Evleen O’Fallon. How could he forget her bravery crossing the Irish Sea, deathly ill, yet still joking? Or, when he was trying to comfort her, how the wind caught her shining dark hair, lashing its softness against his face, taunting him, making him want to thrust his hands through its luxuriant softness. could he forget that moment at the Whispering Arch when their eyes had locked and deep in his belly he’d felt the hot stirrings of desire?
“Why if it isn’t Lord Thomas.”
Bettina Trevlyn’s shrill voice swiftly brought him back to cold reality. Seated on a rose-colored satin settee, she patted the cushion beside her. “Come, do sit down,” she said, her many curls bobbing. “I cannot wait to show you my newest pillow cover.”
Oh God.
Smiling pleasantly, Thomas settled himself beside Bettina. Evleen sat straight across, her dark, lively beauty contrasting with the pale blonde, washed-out appearance of the Trevlyn sisters. A rose among the thorns as far as he was concerned. At least he could surreptitiously feast his eyes upon her while being led, yet again, on another tedious journey through the land of needle-point. As he watched, Montague sat next to Evleen and engaged her in conversation. A long conversation, and then he led her into dinner where he managed, by a swift exchange of place cards, to sit next to her.
He might have known. Thomas knew the meaning of his brother’s every movement, every nuance of his voice, so no doubt existed. As the evening wore on, it became crystal clear that Montague was becoming increasingly infatuated with Miss Evleen O’Fallon.
* * *
“Not an altogether unpleasant evening,” Montague remarked as he, Thomas, and Penelope journeyed the short distance back to Northfield Hall in their curricle. “Fine dinner... a few hands of Whist... I was not as bored as I thought I would be.”
“Who cares if you were bored or not?” snapped Penelope. “Besides, I know you weren’t bored because you spent the evening ogling down the bodice of Miss O’Fallon’s gown. Don’t deny it, I saw you.”
“So what if I was? Besides being quite beautiful, the girl posses a magnificent bosom. So white, so soft, so full... umm, whah!” Montague brought a hand to his lips and made a kissing sound that so infuriated Thomas he balled his fists. But before he could act, Penelope swiftly rapped their brother’s knuckles with her fan. “Stop that this instant! How could