Laurel Ames - Tempted

Evan found a path that he must have taken as a boy. It had been kept open by some inveterate walker, and he felt a friendly sympathy for the unknown boy.

He sat down on a rock to rest and try to puzzle out the past, but the crucial memories eluded him. It seemed such a profitless task. He was what he was now. Why unearth memories that were likely to be painful?

He started at a movement among the new foliage, and almost dropped to a crouch before he remembered where he was. A lithe figure picked its way along the path. Not a boy though, but a girl, wearing a shawl and bonnet that looked old-fashioned even to a man who had been absent from England for years.

“Good morning, Judith,” he said quietly, so as not to startle her.

“I didn’t even see you there, you were so still.”

She sat down beside him, which spurred him to ask, “Do you often stop to rest here?”

“Not rest, just listen and think. The way through the wood is too short otherwise. I was just taking some bread to Mrs. Gorn. She’s quite alone now.”

“Isn’t that a job for Lady Mountjoy?”

She looked at him accusingly. “She would do it, if she could.”

“Sorry, that was a stupid thing for me to say.”

“Especially now that you know she is increasing. I saw your face when you guessed. You looked—well, satisfied, as though you had caught her out at something.”

“Did I?” Evan thought back over the previous agonizing evening. If his face was that easily read, they must all think him a cold, brooding fellow. “It had only solved a puzzle for me, about why she doesn’t want me to stay. Her irrational dislike for me makes sense in light of her pregnancy. Women do often act out-of-character when pregnant …don’t they?”

Judith hesitated, and Evan thought she was on the point of denying that her sister disliked him, but instead she asked, “Had you ever thought that perhaps that is the one time they are more truly themselves, when all that matters is the baby and providing for it?”

“I had not thought about it, but then I have not had much time to observe women, let alone wonder about them. You, for instance, are a complete mystery. I would have guessed you to be the type of person who likes horses, not hates them.”

“But I love them!” she said passionately, then looked away.

“But not to ride?”

“I drive tolerably well,” she said, clasping her hands in her lap.

He looked at the strong, competent hands laid against the faded material of her gown and inspiration hit him. “A riding habit. You need a new one, don’t you?”

“No, I don’t want one. What are you that you read my mind like that? It’s not fair.”

“That had to be it. You would love to ride, but you must have a riding habit to do it in. We will go into Exeter and buy you one.”

“We will not. What would people think of me? Men do not buy women clothes.”

“Not even their aunts?”

“I am not related to you by blood at all. It would be highly improper.”

“Improper for me to bring gifts to my family—all my family? You could help me pick out exactly what Helen and Angel would like. We’ll go before breakfast, if you can drive me.”

“I can’t. I have work to do.”

“What sort of work?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“You don’t strike me as the sort of person who would put your own interests before your family, even if it meant putting off your work.”

“No, of course not. I mean—”

“You were just using that as an excuse not to help me. Very well. I shall go myself. But I fully intend to buy you a riding habit, whether you want one or not. Of course, left to my own devices, I shall probably choose red, or make some other crucial blunder, but there you have it. I am a soldier and prone to blunder.” He got up decisively.

“No, you must not,” she said, jumping up.

“Not red?”

“No, you must not buy it at all.” She stamped her foot in frustration. “They will think I coerced you.”

“No one coerces me. Hasn’t Father told you how stubborn I am?”

“Time and again.”

“What else did he say about me?”

“Only that you were very unforgiving.”

“Me unforgiving? That’s a good one. Well, do you mean to come with me or no? For I am off now.”

“I will help you choose gifts for your father and the others, but you must not buy me anything.”

“Oh, well, half a loaf…Come then.” He held out his hand to her so commandingly that she took it, and he very nearly dragged her the rest of the way through the wood. She fetched it back when they came at last to the stable.

Before Judith fairly knew what had happened, they were on the road to Exeter, with not so much as her reticule about her, and Evan thrusting the reins upon her. She did not like being poor and resented being made to feel poor by someone she held in awe. She would rather have had her reticule, even if it was empty. But that was what she was like— a sham.

“We shall be late to breakfast,” Judith warned as Evan helped her carry the pile of packages from the stable to the house.

“I’m sure there’ll be something left for us. Then we will go riding and see if that habit looks as good with you on horseback as it did in the shop.”

Judith thanked him hastily and ran up the stairs with her plunder, leaving Evan to find the breakfast parlor on his own. The main hall ran from front to back; cross halls ran the length of the house. Evan opened several doors on the north end of the house before concluding that the shrouded ballroom, salons and drawing room were not much used. If they had been in use when he was a boy, he could only think that he had been barred from them, for nothing looked familiar. The south end of the house contained the library and dining room, what looked like a morning room full of sewing baskets and, finally, the breakfast parlor.

“Where the devil have you been?” Lord Mountjoy demanded of Evan as he sat down.

“Exeter, shopping. We have bought you some tobacco.”

“What nonsense! Haring off first thing in the morning to go shopping. I said I had things to discuss with you.”

“Oh, did you mean this morning?”

“Of course I meant this morning.”

“Could you please pass the ham?” Evan asked of Judith, who had just slipped in and seated herself.

“I want you in the library directly after we’ve eaten.”

“Sorry, I have an appointment,” Evan replied.

“A what? A what?” his father sputtered.

“Evan, it can wait—” Judith started to say.

“Judith has promised to show me the countryside.”

Lady Mountjoy frowned at her sister, and Angel increased her pout. Evan could not help noticing that Angel was dressed in a new muslin of the latest cut, and thought perhaps she was expecting a compliment.

“I should be available in an hour or two if that is convenient.”

“No, it is not! You be in the library in ten minutes—ten minutes!”

“No, I don’t think I can manage that. I suppose tomorrow will do as well.”

“No, it will not.” Lord Mountjoy threw down his fork and left the table. Evan merely cocked an eyebrow at his fuming exit.

“Now see what you have done.” Lady Mountjoy rose from the table and with a penetrating stare commanded her sisters to come with her. Angel went in a pet, but Judith sat gazing at her plate.

“We do make a spectacle, don’t we?” Evan asked of Judith.

“Evan, please have this meeting with him. We can go riding afterward. Besides, it will take me an hour to change.”

“I see,” he said suspiciously. She rose then, forcing him to do so, and he walked with her into the hall. She ran up the stairs, but turned to look back at him with an admonishing expression.