Evleen turned to look at him. “Some things are none of your business, little boy.”
“Fair enough,” Patrick answered equitably, sounding very grown up for an ten-year-old. “But I think I already know. You’re supposed to go with them to a rout tonight, and then next week, when your ball gown is made, you’re going with them to Lady Claremont’s ball, and you hope they’ll be nice.”
“Well said, Patrick,” commented Thomas.
Patrick asked, “Are you going, Lord Thomas?”
He shook his head. “Routs and balls hold little interest for me, although I always receive an invitation. But I consider them a waste of time.” He glanced at Evleen. “So will you, I’d wager, after you’ve attended a few, but for now you may as well savor the so-called delights of London.”
“You sound old and jaded.”
“That’s better than young and naive.”
She ignored the barb and inquired, “What exactly is a rout?”
“They are absolutely dreadful affairs. You’re in a for a rude awakening. In fact, it would almost be worth it to see you there, fighting for air, crushed in the crowd.” He smiled, thinking about it.
“Does that mean you’re coming?” she asked archly.
He looked back to see if Patrick was listening. Apparently he wasn’t. “Who knows? Perhaps I shall be there. You needn’t worry. At a rout you would not have to fear I would get you alone.”
Instantly she knew his meaning. “I don’t fear you, Lord Thomas, no matter where we are or what the circumstances.”
“Perhaps you should,” he said simply and turned his attention to driving the curricle.
Chapter 12
Misery sat on Evleen’s shoulders like a huge iron weight. She wished she could sink from sight when Lord Trevlyn called her into his study and chastised her for what he referred to as her “ill-thought-out escapade.”
“I cannot express to you how concerned I was.” He gazed at her with saddened eyes. “You’ll not do that again?”
She assured him she would not, feeling terrible that she’d caused this kindly old man such great distress. She explained that in Ireland she was accustomed to roaming about as she pleased, with nary a thought for the hour of the day or the need for a chaperone.
“Say no more, I understand.” Grateful to have his grandson back, Lord Trevlyn could not bring himself to be too harsh. “The incident is forgotten.” He glanced at the jeweled ormolu clock on the mantle. “Aren’t you ladies planning to attend a rout tonight? You had best get ready.”
“Must I go?”
Trevlyn’s shaggy white eyebrows raised in surprise. “You would rather not?”
“Isn’t it obvious I don’t fit in with your so-called cream of society? After today, I should not even try.”
“But, my dear, I promised your mother you would be treated like one of the family. Bear in mind, when Patrick becomes the Earl of Alberdsley, he’ll hold a position of high rank and prominence. I shall do all within my power to ensure he’s educated for the position and feels at home among the ton. As his sister, you must feel at home, too. Please, for Patrick’s sake won’t you give it a try? “ He gave her a warm smile of encouragement. “You can do it. You have the looks, the charm, the brains. You could be the most popular belle in London, if you cared to.”
“Me, a London belle?” Evleen asked, laughing. “I don’t think so. All I want right now is to look after Patrick.”
“Won’t you humor an old man?”
There was such a pleading in Lord Trevlyn’s eyes she could hold out no longer. “All right, I shall go to the rout. I can only hope I don’t commit another faux pas.”
* * *
“Mon Dieux,” muttered Celeste. Lips pursed in disapproval, she stepped back to view the result of her efforts to dress Evleen for the rout.
Evleen turned this way and that in front of her full-length mirror. How ugly, she thought, regarding the newly borrowed, dark brown dress with distaste. It fit well enough, and the simple style with its modest neckline could not be faulted, yet something was wrong. “Why is it I look so drab?” she asked.
“Mud is most definitely not your color,” replied Celeste.
Of course! That dark brown did look like mud. “It makes my skin look dull and lifeless.”
“Not like zee capucine.” Celeste frowned. “Too bad Miss Charlotte said she might want to wear it soon, herself. It would have been perfect for you.” Her frown deepened. “Before she wears it, hell will freeze.” She cast Evleen’s gown a look of aversion. “No