Her bugbear reclined against the mantel with an exaggerated languor that would make Genevieve laugh if she wasn’t so on edge. “Lud, the place will be more crowded than Tattersall’s on auction day.”
“My lord, we have no chamber befitting your dignity.” Genevieve glowered at Mr. Evans. He overdid the useless flower of fashion act. Especially when she knew that his beautifully cut coat concealed muscles that wouldn’t shame a stevedore. This morning, she’d fought like a demon when he’d caught her and he’d hardly broken a sweat. “We know to be on guard. Between Williams, my father, and Mr. Evans, we should be safe.”
Except she had a nasty feeling that Mr. Evans was the fox in this particular henhouse.
Lord Neville’s mouth turned down. “A geriatric retainer, an unworldly scholar, and a namby-pamby fop. Pardon me if I consider arrangements inadequate.”
Genevieve saw the fop’s barely contained smirk. Her father struggled to his feet with a sudden display of spirit. “I may be an unworldly scholar, my lord, but I protect my own.”
Lord Neville must have realized that he’d overstepped the mark. He bowed to the vicar, so briefly it was almost insulting, and again to Genevieve. “My counsel falls upon deaf ears. All I can say is that my offer of sanctuary remains.”
“Will you stay to dinner, your lordship?” the vicar asked.
Lord Neville still sulked over his failure to get her to Youngton Hall. “Not tonight.”
“Capital, my lord,” Mr. Evans said with purposely grating cheerfulness. “A man your age should beware the evening chill.”
Genevieve watched Lord Neville stifle a blistering response to this blatant piece of cheek. Only because she observed Mr. Evans so closely did she note the satisfied glint in his eyes. Of course he was satisfied—he’d managed to banish Lord Neville for the evening. Yet again she thought what a manipulative devil he was.
“I take my leave, then,” Lord Neville said grudgingly.
“Good evening, my lord.” The vicar remained unaware, Genevieve knew, of the dark currents swirling through the room. Currents of resentment and jealousy and mistrust. “Genevieve, perhaps you should see his lordship out?”
Protest would upset her father further. Since he’d learned that she’d refused Lord Neville’s proposal, the rift between them had deepened, but still she flinched from adding to his distress.
Mr. Evans stepped forward. “Let me show his lordship out.”
Ten minutes ago, she’d wanted to strangle him. How nonsensical now to want to hug him for saving her from a cozy chat with Lord Neville.
“I have something particular to say to Genevieve,” Lord Neville said.
“What’s all this fuss? I can’t abide all this fuss,” her father complained. “Genevieve, go with Lord Neville. I want Mr. Evans with me. He’s such a comfort.”
Reluctantly Genevieve nodded and moved toward the door. A glance back at Mr. Evans restored her failing courage. Something in his stance told her that he’d rush to her rescue if she stayed outside too long.
Since when had she started relying on Mr. Evans to save her?
As she’d expected, his lordship resumed the argument once they were alone. “I insist you come to Youngton Hall for your own protection.”
“The thieves
haven’t been violent.” She stepped as far back as the narrow space allowed. Since his lordship’s clumsy attempt at blackmail and his boorish proposal, she could hardly endure his company.
“Yet.” He paused. “You’re a stubborn chit.”
She shrugged, unmoved by the criticism. “I’m a self-willed woman. I have no wish to submit to a man’s guidance.”
It was a pointed reminder of what an unsuitable wife she’d make for a man of his station, not just in birth but behavior. The mulish angle of his jaw indicated that he disregarded her statement. “You can be schooled, my dear.”
“Like an unruly horse?”
Her mocking response raised no amusement. She’d long ago remarked that Lord Neville lacked a sense of humor. Mr. Evans possessed a highly developed sense of humor. A quality she dearly wished she didn’t find so attractive.
Lord Neville frowned. “Send Evans away. He means no good.”
That was, she suspected, the truth. “My father likes Mr. Evans.”
Lord Neville shook his head in disgust. “Your father lives in his own world. If he didn’t, he’d keep a better eye on you.”