Free London's Perfect Scoundrel by Suzanne Enoch Page A

with funds practically making him salivate. “Shall we take a vote? All in favor say aye.”
    The eager chorus of ayes was nauseating.
    “Well, St. Aubyn, what about you?” Rutledge asked. “Surely you have no objection to Miss Ruddick’s proposal. Aye or nay?”
    Saint remained in his relaxed slouch, deciding his own position. He could refuse; he didn’t need her meddling while he was trying to dispose of the place. Evelyn would be angry and stomp home and slight him at soirees for the remainder of his life. That was well and good, except for one thing—he’d never have her spread beneath him, moaning his name.
    He pursed his lips, gazing at the object of his interest. “I assume this little experiment will remain under my supervision?”
    Evelyn’s confident smile faltered just a little. No doubt she didn’t know what to do with a male who didn’t fall to his knees at the sight of her smile. “If you insist,” she hedged.
    “I do insist.”
    She lifted her chin, the fine blush of her cheeks deepening. “Then yes, my project may be placed under your supervision.”
    He gave her a slow smile. “Then my answer is aye.”

Chapter 6
    Though the day of my destiny’s over ,
    And the star of my fate hath declined ,
    Thy soft heart refused to discover
    The faults which so many could find .
    —Lord Byron, “Stanzas to Augusta”
    “E velyn!”
    Evie froze halfway out the front door of Ruddick House. Before she could decide whether to risk a dash out to the waiting coach or not, Victor stomped down the last flight of stairs. Crossing his arms and glowering, he came to a stop in front of her.
    “Good morning,” she said, favoring him with a bright smile.
    “I stopped by Aunt Houton’s yesterday,” he snapped. “She hasn’t seen you in over a week.”
    “That’s where—”
    “You missed the Tuesday West Sussex Ladies’ Tea.”
    “I didn’t mean—”
    “And you have failed to explain to me why you agreed to waltz with St. Aubyn.”
    “Victor, if you would—”
    “That’s it, isn’t it?” he went on, then took a slow breath. “Before I returned from India you could dowhatever you wished. Evie, once I’m voted into the House you can go back to shopping and soirees and whatever else gladdens your heart. Until that happens, please show some restraint and common sense.”
    She hid a frown. This was obviously not the moment to confess anything. Instead, evasiveness seemed the most logical defense. She decided to offer up the explanation she’d been working on for the past several days. “I am not trying to damage your campaign, Victor. I think you would make a splendid member of Parliament. I do have several commitments of my own, however. If I were to neglect them, it would reflect badly on both of us.”
    “Ah.” Her brother reached over her head, pulled the door from Langley’s surprised fingers, and shut it. “What ‘commitments,’ pray tell?”
    Drat . If she told him she was preparing to essentially take over the supervision of an orphanage where St. Aubyn was head of the board of trustees, he would lock her in her room. “Lady Dare and the Duchess of Wycliffe have taken an interest in education of the poor. They’ve asked me to help.”
    “You?”
    She tried to ignore the skepticism in his voice, as though he could never conceive of anyone asking her for assistance or advice if they had any choice in the matter. “Yes, me. I help you, too, if you’ll recall.”
    “That remains to be seen. And the waltz with St. Aubyn?”
    “He asked. I…feared if I refused him, the scene would have been worse than if I accepted.”
    She could see the reluctant agreement in his expression as he nodded. “You’re probably right. But stayaway from him, Evie; don’t give him the opportunity to ask you again.”
    “I won’t.”
    Victor took a step closer. “And remember that your ‘commitments’ are secondary at the moment. You can’t neglect your duties to this family—which means to me.