Tempted

“So am I,” Evan said, giving his head a shake and calming his horse.

“I didn’t mean to hit you so hard, but you caught me off guard.”

“I should hate to think what you are capable of when prepared for a kiss,” he said, feeling his cheek.

“You must not! You must never do that again.”

“And you must think me a beast. But war has a way of giving one a certain impatience with life.”

“Things done impatiently are usually done unwisely,” she said almost to herself.

“That has the ring of your sister about it.”

“I’m sure she has had reason to say it often enough.”

“I must agree with it, even knowing it comes from her. Can you forgive me?”

“If you promise never to do that again.”

“I promise I will never force myself on you again. But you do see what I mean about needing polish?” he asked with a grin.

“Why are you helping Ralph?” she demanded. “And do not continue with this nonsensical story about wanting to learn poetry.”

“Perhaps I am doing it to get in your sister’s good graces.”

“Even if that would work, why would you care what she thinks of you?”

“I should like her to be more at ease, for the babe’s sake if for no other reason.”

“What would you care about her baby, another half brother?” she taunted callously.

“The way you say that, so coldly…it gives me a chill. Do you imagine I went about putting infants to the sword? When you have been engaged in such a ghastly business as war, any baby, no matter whose, is a ray of hope, a promise that something will continue.”

She stopped ahead of him, saying nothing. He dropped the reins and walked around in front of her to discover tears on her cheeks. “What is it? I know, my rude talk. I am hopeless.”

“No, it’s not that,” she said, thinking how sweet it would be to have a baby and be allowed to keep it. “I have tried to imagine what it was like for you.” Her voice was rich with the wetness of the tears. “I would rather have been there…”

“In Spain?”

“Anywhere but here.”

“But it is fairly pleasant here.”

“I am talking foolishly. Please don’t regard it.” She brushed the tears away with her gloved hands. “Are the horses cool?”

“Yes.”

Judith let Evan lead the horses to the stable and retreated to her room to change. She had missed another chance to tell him, but it wasn’t the sort of thing one blurted out to a near stranger. The quandary was that the more she knew him, the better she liked him and the more difficult it was to tell him she had been ruined. Except for the rides she must not be alone with Evan again; it was as simple as that. If they became no closer, there would never be a need to reveal her guilty secret.

As promised, directly after lunch, Evan and Ralph tackled algebra for two hours. They were consigned to the breakfast parlor for this exercise, since Helen and Angel went to sew in the morning room, and Judith and Lord Mountjoy conducted business in the library during this part of the day. The post had been fetched by then, and there were always letters to be answered, after which Lord Mountjoy would retire to peruse the Times and perhaps catch a nap. Evan was well aware of the schedule and, intentionally or not, was always plotting how he could get to the newspaper before his father. No chance of it today. The post, which was deposited on the hall table, had been taken up by Judith on their return, and she had gone directly to the library to sort it in preparation for the afternoon work. Evan had not as yet discovered where she secreted the paper, but he would.

By dint of presenting each lesson as a useful means of solving a practical problem, Evan managed to hold Ralph’s interest. But nothing could alleviate for Evan the dullness of Chaucer. He had not thought Ralph would take him seriously enough to present British poetry from a historical perspective.

Within a day Ralph proved to be a welcome addition to the household in several ways. Not only did he now share the bite of Lord Mountjoy’s tongue, he brought a wealth of gossip from London to enthrall Angel and delight Judith in spite of her pursed lips. He also made a fourth for whist, which was the only game Lord Mountjoy countenanced of an evening. That is not to say the play was peaceful. Terry was hounded for his dullness, though Evan guessed this was from a surfeit of drink. Evan himself was constantly chastised for not attending, and Ralph for being cocky when he won.

Evan sensed there was trouble brewing with Terry but could not conceive how to stop it. It came to a head the next morning when Evan caught his brother returning from a night’s carousing, mounted on Evan’s Andalusian colt.

“He’s come to no harm,” Terry claimed.

“He might well have. You had no right to take him without asking. Surely you knew I meant to ride him myself this morning.”

“Why ask you, then? You would have refused. You never gave me anything. Now you have taken everything.” Terry’s broad gesture swept full circle to indicate Meremont.

“I never meant you any harm. I scarcely know you.”

“Is that my fault, cooped up here with Father while you were off in Spain, covering yourself with glory?”

“It was mud.”

“What?”

“Mud was the only thing I was ever covered with in Spain!” Evan shouted.

“You…” Terry lunged, but failed to connect with a blow, flailing away, rather, as his brother tried to hold him up. Finally Evan pushed him, and Terry, enraged at falling in the muck, grabbed a pitchfork and ran full tilt at him. Evan sidestepped and tripped him up.

“Give me that before you hurt someone,” he commanded as he wrested the pitchfork away from him.

By this time one of the stable boys had run to the house for help.

“I hate you!” Terry shouted. “You were supposed to be dead. You were supposed to die in Spain. Why did you come back? You ruined everything.”

Evan got him in a headlock, but Terry struggled desperately against his grip with the violence of the berserk as his air was slowly cut off. “Do you mean to kill me, too?” he gasped.

Evan let go his hold and took a step back. “I didn’t mean to kill Gregory. I felt very much toward him as you feel toward me now. He had everything, even Father’s love. And I had nothing. I did not mean to ruin everything for you.”

Terry’s resentful look was mixed with puzzlement and defeat. “It doesn’t matter. Father is probably right. I would only waste it all anyway.” He stared at a steaming pile of muck.

“What the devil is going on here?” demanded Lord Mountjoy as he burst through the doorway and pulled up short at sight of his filthy sons.

“Nothing, Father,” Evan said in that automatic singsong of his.

“Nothing! But what—? You don’t intend to tell me, do you?” He looked pointedly from one son to the other. “I thought not. Everything has to be a conspiracy against me. Well, I should be used to it by now. I don’t know why I worry…” Lord Mountjoy stomped out of the stable and toward the house, talking to himself.

Evan chuckled first. “Does he often do that?”

Terry snickered. “More and more of late.” He wiped his eyes on his sleeve. Evan went to him and put his arm about his shoulder, causing Terry to wince a little. “I hurt you, didn’t I? I’m sorry. Just tell me when you want to borrow the colt. You’re more important to me than him.”

“Do you mean it?”