London's Perfect Scoundrel by Suzanne Enoch Page A

however, left him in a particularly good humor.
    “You stupid sots,” the youngest boy complained. “I wanted to learn about Indians.”
    Saint stifled a scowl as he left the dormitory. The comment hadn’t been aimed at him, of course, because no one—not even infants—were allowed to speak that way to him. And this wasn’t about what little boys wanted, anyway. It was about what was best for him—and for Evelyn Ruddick.

Chapter 5
    Saint Peter sat by the celestial gate ,
    His keys were rusty, and the lock was dull ,
    So little trouble had been given of late ;
    Not that the place by any means was full .
    —Lord Byron, “The Vision of Judgment”
    “Y ou’re joking. Aren’t you?” Lucinda stopped beside the Barrett coach as her maid piled a half dozen boxes and parcels onto one of the plush seats.
    “Do I look as though I’m joking?” Evie returned, handing over her own parcel to be added to the stack. It was a sad commentary on the state of her nerves when she could only find one item to purchase on a shopping excursion.
    “Hm. I’ve never heard anything good—or rather, repeatable and good—said about St. Aubyn, but for him to publicly question your competence seems uncalled for. Your uncle is the Marquis of Houton, after all.”
    “I’m certain he doesn’t care a fig who my relations might be,” she said, wishing Luce would tell her something about St. Aubyn or his reputation that she didn’t already know.
    “No, he probably doesn’t care,” Lucinda admitted.“Oh, I heard that Luckings just received some new hats. Shall we?”
    Evelyn actually wanted to work on her proposal, but Victor was home today, and if he caught her holed up in the library on such a fine morning, she wasn’t certain she would be able to deflect his suspicions. “Absolutely.”
    They strolled down Bond Street toward the milliner’s, Lucinda chatting and smiling at acquaintances as they went, and pretending that she hadn’t noticed how distracted Evelyn seemed to be. That was one of the nicest things about Lucinda Barrett; calm and practical, she would patiently wait until a friend was ready to confess what a muck he or she had made of things, and then she would offer what was invariably sound and logical advice to correct the problem.
    Confessing that she’d allowed the Marquis of St. Aubyn to kiss her, however, would only make Evie feel more like an idiot than she already did. She doubted Lucinda would be able to say anything to alter her opinion. As for her proposal and her plans for the orphanage, she still intended to do something, kiss or not. For that task, though, she didn’t want to admit that she was already falling short of her own expectations.
    “Evie?”
    She shook herself. “I’m sorry. What were you saying?”
    “I was just asking whether your brother had decided on a political platform. Georgiana’s going to dinner with the Duke of Wycliffe tonight, and she offered to extol Victor’s virtues if you wanted her to.”
    “I’m not certain Victor has any virtues. And Georgie certainly doesn’t need to spend the small time she has with her cousin talking about my brother.”
    The space between Lucinda’s delicate eyebrows furrowed. “That’s considerate, but not terribly politically savvy of you, my dear.”
    Evie sighed. “I don’t want to be politically savvy—and especially not on someone else’s behalf. I want to be a part of something meaningful.”
    “Like the Heart of Hope Orphanage?”
    “Yes.”
    Lucinda stopped. “You know, I have an idea.” With a quick smile, she took Evelyn’s arm and turned them back in the direction of the coach. “You’re right; it’s not the Duke of Wycliffe you need. It’s the duchess.”
    “The duchess? What—”
    “She used to be a girls’ school headmistress. Who would know better about helping young people than a headmistress? And who would be more discreet about it than Emma Brakenridge?”
    Slowly hope began to push aside yesterday’s