Free Surrender To A Scoundrel by Julianne MacLean Page B

think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you laugh.”
    “I laugh,” she told him. “Just not around you. I’ve not had the opportunity.”
    He eyed her carefully. “I would dearly love to change that. Please, come sailing with me.” He held his hands up, palms open. “I promise, I’ll be a gentleman. No hanky-panky. No flirting. No inappropriate thrills. I’ll teach you how to sail, nothing more.”
    She remembered what he’d said in the hotel, that life was just a series of moments, and though she still did not agree with the idea that consequences played no part, she gave in to the possibility that there might be some wisdom in what he was trying to show her—that one had to enjoy life day by day and seize opportunities when they presented themselves, because one never knew when it could all end.
    Just then, a number of guests from below emerged onto the deck, including Lord Breckinridge and Lord and Lady Radley.
    Evelyn stepped away from Martin. “Is it over?”
    “Yes,” Breckinridge replied, glancing with distrust at Martin as he offered his arm to her. “But most of us are heading over to the Esplanade for an evening stroll. You’ll join us, Mrs. Wheaton? We can walk to the Umbrella Tree.”
    The Umbrella Tree was a large weeping ash upon the Green, known to be a favorite place forcourting couples. It was presumptuous to make such a remark, and she suspected it was for Martin’s benefit, not hers. She also suspected Martin knew it.
    Nevertheless, her time with him was at an end, for they had been standing under the stars far too long. It was time for her to leave the ship with the others.
    “That would be lovely, thank you.” She accepted Breckinridge’s arm. “Good night, Lord Martin.”
    He bowed at the waist. “And to you, Mrs. Wheaton.”
    He made no more mention of his invitation to go sailing, and Evelyn breathed a sigh of relief, for she did not want the others to know, nor did she wish to continue resisting his plea, because he surely would have pressed until she had said yes, for it was not in his nature to back down from a challenge.
     
    “And do you enjoy croquet, Mrs. Wheaton?” Lord Breckinridge asked as he escorted Evelyn along the waterfront toward the Esplanade.
    Lord and Lady Radley were strolling in front of them barely talking, gazing off in opposite directions, while Martin was walking with his first mate, Lord Spencer, and some other ladies at a distance behind them.
    “Yes, I do. Very much.” She made an effort to sound enthusiastic.
    “Well, if you would be willing to join me in a game this week, I have a very fine set of balls.”
    Good Lord! Did he just say what she thought he said?
    “They were a gift from the Queen herself,” he added, his cheeks coloring sharply.
    Evelyn let a chuckle slip out, then covered her mouth with a hand, but it was no use. She couldn’t keep the laughter in.
    Lord Breckinridge stopped on the walk and frowned down at her. “Mrs. Wheaton, perhaps I should escort you back to your hotel. I fear there might have been too much champagne at the ball this evening.”
    “No.” She laughed, still trying to fight it. “Truly, I’m fine.”
    But this was not like her at all! She was usually so very composed.
    “I believe you will thank me for it tomorrow, as it will prevent you from further embarrassing yourself.” His shoulders were stiff and his voice low with annoyance.
    He turned and attempted to lead her in that direction, but she did not follow because his reproachful manner was grating upon her happy mood, especially after her most refreshing encounter with Martin, who always seemed to be lookingfor a reason to laugh and whose desire to have a good time was surely becoming contageous. He certainly would have laughed if he’d been here to learn about Breckinridge’s fine balls.
    “If you don’t mind,” she firmly said, “I would like to continue walking, as it’s a lovely evening. But if you would like to retire, I would