Genevieve hid a sigh. The safest choice was to avoid Mr. Evans as she had during his first few days. But now she recognized him as her burglar, she needed to watch him. And while Mr. Evans was with her, Lord Neville couldn’t pressure her.
Feeling tha
t her life whirled into chaos, she surreptitiously slipped the Harmsworth Jewel into her pinafore pocket and stood. Tonight when she was alone—no midnight swim, Mr. Evans had put paid to that pastime—she’d sew a pocket into her petticoat to hold the jewel.
She stepped around the desk. “Shall we go downstairs, Papa? Lord Neville will wonder where you’ve got to.” Speaking Lord Neville’s name made her want to gag.
“Of course, my dear, of course.” Her father bustled toward the door. Behind his back, Mr. Evans’s blue eyes met hers. He was remembering their kisses. Curse him, so was she.
Chapter Ten
Over the next two nights, the memory of Genevieve’s innocent kisses tormented Richard into sleeplessness, but his quarry had learned to be careful. Although the weather continued unseasonably hot, she didn’t sneak out again. Conscienceless—and optimistic—fellow he was, he kept his door ajar so he’d hear if she left.
As he joined the family after dinner, he was grimly aware that he was still far from dazzling her into surrendering the jewel. There she sat across the parlor on her window seat, stitching doggedly at her grotesquerie of an embroidery. Beside her, Hecuba occupied the space that Richard wanted to claim. At the table, the vicar and Fairbrother pored over a parchment. Sirius snoozed in the corner. Mrs. Warren knitted in her usual chair.
Fairbrother, more omnipresent than ever over the last days, noted Richard’s maneuverings toward Genevieve and rose to intervene. Until Mrs. Warren detained his lordship with a question. With ill-concealed reluctance, Fairbrother paused to reply, leaving Richard free to corner Genevieve. Mrs. Warren could teach Napoleon strategy.
“Your peonies still bloom, Miss Barrett,” he murmured, lounging against the window frame.
“Mr. Evans, for shame.” Her head jerked up and her cheeks turned pink. “My peonies are my business.”
He laughed softly. How delightful. She must stew on their kisses if his remark struck her as indecent. “I merely admired your needlework.”
She cast him a skeptical look. He couldn’t blame her. The elephant had whelped a litter of malformed puppies. Or perhaps jellyfish.
He scooped Hecuba into his arms as he sat. Predictably the cat’s rapturous welcome contrasted with her mistress’s wariness.
Genevieve stuck her needle into the linen with an emphasis that made him suppress an “ouch.” As she started to rise, he touched her arm. Nothing so blatant as grabbing her, but she stilled, trembling.
Oh, yes, she definitely remembered their kisses.
He released her. “I know you don’t want to talk to me—”
“Correct, Mr. Evans.” Her tone was repressive and temper set her lovely eyes sparkling.
He continued as though she hadn’t interrupted. “But if you don’t stay, Lord Neville will monopolize you.”
Although her manner didn’t thaw, she subsided onto the seat. “You imagine I prefer your company to his?”
“Don’t you?” To his chagrin, the only times she welcomed Richard’s presence was when Fairbrother was around. Being treated as the lesser of two evils wasn’t especially flattering.
She shot him a disgruntled look. “You’re insufferable.”
He smiled. An insult from her lush lips was more arousing than another woman’s fawning. If he wasn’t careful, he’d find himself besotted with Miss Genevieve Barrett. Which wasn’t his plan at all. This was meant to be a short adventure, followed by a serious hunt for a suitable wife. “Absolutely.”
“And conceited.”
He heard how hard she fought not to laugh. “Probably.”
“And lacking in principle.”
“Now that’s going too far.” His tone indicated that while he agreed, he’d never admit it.
“I don’t know why I bother with you.”
“I’m entertaining?” he said hopefully, stroking Hecuba. The other night, Genevieve had purred. Too fleetingly.
“No, that can’t be it,” she said flatly. She tugged the needle free and placed two more clumsy stitches into her sampler.