Chapter Eight
Dissatisfaction was a hard bedfellow. Gibb threw back the bedcovers in disgust, strode naked into his bathing chamber and thought about what he wanted to accomplish over the next few days. He had to vote in the House the following evening, check that Crowe and his sister had left the capital as he had demanded and also speak to Evangeline. The problem with the last part of his mental list was that he still wasn’t sure what he was going to say to her. Did he want to move their friendship forward? Did he want to risk spoiling what they had? At present they spoke freely to each other and neither seemed to have the need to temper what they said.
They embraced when they met and when they parted. He could tell by the way she stood, the way her body reacted, that she was as affected by him as he was her. His body hardened to the point of pain when he held her close.
But to take a step toward intimacy? Was it right? Was it fair? He knew there was no fail-safe method of avoiding an unwanted child other than abstinence, or playing, as he thought Evangeline might say.
Even then it could easily get out of hand. With a mistress, someone world-wise, precautions could be taken, and it could be a way of sating himself if nothing else. However, he was sure, by the way Evangeline had reacted to his erection the first time she’d felt it next to her, she was unspoiled and innocent and wasn’t someone prepared to be taken advantage of in such a way.
For the first time in years he felt uncomfortable at using a woman—any woman, not merely Evangeline—just to slake his desires, even if they knew and accepted it.
He had to decide if it was right to ask her to change that state of affairs. Especially when he had no promises he could give her about a future—except there was not one together.
No. I cannot do it.
So he suffered cold baths and frustration. Even though there were plenty of women prepared to help him out, in some indefinable way Gibb thought of that as cheating.
He flicked through the four-inch-high stack of invitations on his desk and wrinkled his nose at the perfume-scented ones, the coy ones and the downright blatant ones. By the time he’d sifted those out he was left with a handful of them he might perhaps be interested in.
A card game for the following evening, a request from his solicitor to visit at his earliest convenience, with regards to a house he wished to purchase that might be available at last, and a note from Lady Lisette Tonge, a friend of his late mother’s whom he kept in touch with, interested him most. He glanced at his secretary, who stood waiting for instructions.
“That lot can go in the bin.” He indicated the large pile. “Tell Dudley I will perhaps pop in, instruct my solicitor that he can set the purchase in motion and I will head to Lady Tonge’s after I’ve eaten. A note to say I will be with her at noon would be appropriate. It is, she always says, a good time to catch her at home and awake.”
Evans nodded and made some notations on a tablet. Gibb smiled. “That’s it, I think.” He waited until Evans had left and leaned back in his chair, deep in thought. Evidently talk had started. Whoever had decided to gossip about them had done it in such a way it was like casting a stone on a pond and discovering how the ripples spread out. Lady Tonge had said little in her note except she needed to speak with him about his activities and interesting information he might want to be apprised of. As she was not one to cry wolf, and always had her thumb on the pulse of ton activities, Gibb would go and see what she had to say.
For the first few days after the Vauxhall episode there had been very little bandied about with regards to the evening, other than that Gibb had seemed to be a very willing victim. Although Evangeline had been reluctant to be seen abroad with him, for she had said in earnest it would do him no good and set them both up for more unwanted speculation, she’d conceded she enjoyed his company and that their time together was not something she wanted to dismiss.
Neither did he, so increased gossip was inevitable. Not that anyone had come out and asked him why he’d offered to be Evangeline’s partner. Then people had begun to remember they’d been seen together on other occasions. That Gibb had helped her when Crowe had allegedly, or definitely, depending on who the gossip was, been a little too friendly. Plus, how Crowe had spouted to everyone about the way Gibb could hardly keep his hands off Evangeline who, according to Crowe, nigh on ate Gibb with her eyes. No one had yet questioned Gibb about his version of that, but even so, he felt like a man besieged. He hadn’t seen Evangeline for a couple of days—she’d been performing at a special ladies’ evening as promised for Mary, he’d been giving a speech in the House. She’d helped Eloise with a rushed order, he’d accompanied Henry to Tatts to buy a horse. Little things that had conspired to keep them apart.
However, ladies there were a plenty. One had even approached him between the aisles of Hatchards bookshop as he had searched for a specific book his housekeeper had wanted. He’d spoken to her so coldly he’d thought for a moment she might faint, before she’d turned on her heels and almost run away.
Gibb had picked up the book and walked toward the assistant, who had watched the interchange with interest, although had neither interfered nor commented. If the volume had not been something he’d needed to purchase, he would have walked out. However, he did his best to treat his staff in a fair and reasonable way. The lady he’d chosen the gift for had grown up on his estate, learned to read and write and was an avid reader of gothic novels. This book was a present for her birthday. Gibb had accepted he was thought as eccentric in the way he treated his staff and he wasn’t at all bothered. Happy staff meant a smoothly run estate.
He’d picked up his parcel, nodded and strode away, deep in thought. Tonight he had arranged supper at his home for Evangeline and himself. First, though, he had another long, boring city day to get through. What was he going to do once he’d visited Lisette Tonge?
London was slowly driving him mad.
* * * *
“My dear Gibb, I wanted to see you alone,” Lisette Tonge said with a smile. “I hear rumors, and your dear mama would want me to apprise you of them.” She spoke in her charming accent as she patted his cheek and accepted the kiss to her hand. “Such a gentleman. Your mama would be proud of that part of you.” Her tone intimated, ‘but not all’. “Ah, I miss a rake, though. Would you like to practice that?”
“It’s not me, I’m afraid. I’ll settle for the gentleman instead.” Gibb kissed her hand for the second time in as many minutes and ignored the rest. Would she ever get to the point of his visit? “However did Reginald cope with you?”
She grinned. “He knew me, and accepted me for what I am. Something everyone should remember and practice. We are who we are.”
“True.” Gibb thought of Hester. The anguish hovered but did not settle. Instead a sense of compassion for Hester’s unhappiness hit him. And the knowledge that whatever he had done would not have satisfied her. She had not had it in her to be happy.
Five minutes later, Gibb was settled in a chair with a cognac. Somewhat early to be drinking the fiery spirit, but he knew Lady Tonge’s habits.
“So,” Gibb said with a smile. “You have discussed Lady Arthur’s ball, Lady Attley’s ball, your grandchildren when they eventually appear, the weather, the price of candles and whether the latest on-dit regarding a perceived slight at Almack’s is true. None of which, I believe, is why I am here. Spill, my dear. What is on your mind?”
Lady Tonge smiled and shrugged. “Perhaps nothing. Look, feel free to tell me to mind my own business.”
“I would never be so crass,” Gibb protested, uneasily aware that on more than one occasion he had done that very thing to others.
“Then, you are a friend of La Belle Evangeline, aren’t you?” she said in a rush. “I don’t want chapter and verse, a simple yes or no will do.”
Trust Lisette to cut to the chase in such a way. “I know her,” he said cautiously as he wondered where the questioning was leading. “Why?”
“My dear Gibb, can you never answer a question without another one?” Lisette said with a quirk to her lips. “I also know her, and wish to ask you something. Oh, not personal, but if you do not know her there is no point.”
“Yes.”
“Yes what?” Lady Tonge asked in a puzzled voice.
“Yes, I can answer a question without asking another one.”
“Oh, you.” Lisette was silent for several seconds—a record, Gibb thought, for the garrulous Lisette Tonge—then buffed his shoulder and burst out laughing.
Gibb joined in. It sounded somewhat rusty, as if laughter was unknown to him, as it had been until Evangeline, but he thought he was getting better at it.
Eventually Lisette wiped her eyes. “I asked for that.”
“I’m afraid so,” Gibb said. “And I’m glad we are on good enough terms for us to be so comfortable together.”
“Pshaw,” She made a noise like a pot boiling. “I’ve dandled you on my knee, seen you go from petticoats to short coats and as you are now. If we can’t be informal, who can? And it is good to have someone I can be myself with. At my age those people get less and less.” Her eyes twinkled to show she didn’t care how old she was. “So, Evangeline?” she prompted. “Whilst I’m still breathing.”
Gibb burst out laughing. “I’ve not been prevaricating,” he pointed out. “Nevertheless, I will say that I am friends with Evangeline. Just platonic friends,” he stressed. “Neither of us are looking for more. You know I will not be responsible for another’s being.”
“You think not?”
“I know not,” he said. “So why do you ask? That,” he added with a grin, “was a question without being related to a question.”
Lisette shook her head in bewilderment. “Oh good, I think out of all that I got is that you are not friends who give each other succor, just friends.”
“That’s about it.”
“Then apart from all the gossip about you both, which I’m sure you have heard, and says you are intimate friends, I swear she reminds me of someone.” Lisette sat back in her chair and sipped her drink.
“You do?” That caught his interest. The hints about gossip were, he decided, something to mull over later. After all it was inevitable, whatever either he or Evangeline wanted. “Who?”
“That’s just it.” Lisette gave a very Gallic shrug. “I don’t know. It is so frustrating. We were at Vauxhall and saw your stunt and Crowe’s idiocy—I must say you coped with that in a manner that—yes, all right, stick to the point. I’ll say it for you. So, La Belle Evangeline. The way she stands, the tilt of her head, I don’t know, her silhouette. It reminds me of someone but I’ve scoured my mind and I cannot for the life of me remember who, nor if it is a male or a female. Does she have relatives here?”
It was Gibb’s turn to shrug. “I have no idea. She has never said and we don’t…don’t invite confidences as such.”
“Pity. If I can remember who I will let you know. All that apart, people are talking, Gibb, so beware, both of you. Mud sticks.”
* * * *
“I met with Lady Tonge today,” Gibb said as he and Evangeline sat side by side, on a comfortable chaise and cradled brandy goblets in their respective hands.
Evangeline hoped he didn’t notice the involuntary jerk she gave. “A lovely lady,” she said, proud of how her voice didn’t waver and she held her drink steady without it slopping over the rim. What was he doing meeting a lady old enough to be his mother?
“You know her?” Gibb asked.
She bit her lip and nodded. “She is also French.”
“True. She is also not one to gossip, but gave me some news that she thought we needed to hear.”
“Not Lord Crowe again?” Evangeline asked him. “I thought he was in the country.”
“He is safely ensconced in Cheshire,” Gibb confirmed. “This was more along the lines of the fact she is sure you remind her of someone.”
“Really?” Spots danced in front of Evangeline’s eyes and she swallowed several times to get rid of the nasty taste in her mouth. Was she going to learn something else she needed to know? Why had Lady Tonge not spoken to her again instead? “Who?”
“Ah, that is the rub, Lisette has no idea. Just someone, she said. Do you have relatives in England? Or the rest of the country? Lisette has never been abroad since she came here as a young bride, so it must be over here.”
“Not to my knowledge,” Evangeline said, aware she was being economical with the truth. However, after all, she didn’t know, did she? Evangeline hoped she didn’t look as dishonest as she felt. It was strictly true but… She really would have been no good as a spy. One look at her face and the thumbscrews would be out. Not for the first time she wondered if she should take Gibb into her confidence.
No, he does not want involvement. “I wonder who it is.”
“So does she. We might find out from her one day.”
How to reply? “That would be interesting. I might discover a cousin four times removed or something.”
“Would you like that?”
She considered how best to answer. “It is always nice to know you have family, I suppose, but how would they react to me or I to them? Are they prince or pauper? French, English or neither? Would they welcome me or turn me away? Perhaps I am best not knowing.”
“You don’t think that,” Gibb said. “Everyone wants to know who they are.”
“I do not know what I think,” Evangeline replied. “Except who I am at this moment. Anyway, it is immaterial. She has no idea, nor do I, so I will not spend any more time on the puzzle and move on.”
“Then you won’t mind if I eat the last piece of cheese,” Gibb said with a grin. “After all, it will go stale if we leave it.”
She laughed, as he had no doubt intended her to. “You and your cheese.” She passed him the plate with two wedges of cheese and an onion on it.
Gibb twitched his nose and stroked imaginary whiskers. “Squeak.”
Evangeline’s heart missed a beat. In this lighthearted mood, if he asked she would give him anything. She was too fond of him, too involved with him, and something would need to come to a head soon. As an unmarried female, she wasn’t totally ignorant of the facts of life, but knowing them and knowing how to act were two very different things. Now that she knew she was illegitimate, the thought of bringing a child up alone was not a pleasant one. She remembered the stigma of his birth status being thrown at a lad in the village they had both lived in. No child should have to go through those taunts if it were at all possible not to. Now she had almost saved enough to give up knife-throwing and set out on her quest to discover why her maman had wanted her to come to England and a child was not to be thought of. Even so, if Gibb pressured her to make love, she would be hard-pressed to say no.
“I best go,” she said as Gibb waved the brandy at her. “If I have any more I won’t want to.”
“You could stay,” he said in a voice that gave nothing away.
“I could but…” She bit her lip. “Gibb, I like you very much. You are the friend I never had. In all honesty, I do not know if I could cope with more. You, I think, do not want any more emotional entanglement and if we took the next step there would of course be some. So…?”
“So, stay as a friend,” he said. “Separate rooms if you desire. Or if you trust me, just to hold and be held. I would do no more unless you asked, I promise.”
The silence was overwhelming as he looked at her without speaking. The choice was hers. He always kept his promises.
At long last she sighed. “That sounds perfect. It is an age since I slept in anyone’s arms, and that was my maman.”
“I’m not your maman,” he pointed out with a smile. “Anything but.”
“No, but I trust you as I did her.”
“Then come with me.” Gibb stood up and held out his hand. Evangeline took it and let him pull her to her feet.
“Show me,” she said.