One week after Lord Davenport spotted Lady Evelyn entering Prince Edward's residence, he and Philip received an invitation from the Warwicks to tea. He considered declining. But it had been some time since he exchanged over two words with his cousin. No small feat as they shared the same roof. So when Philip agreed to attend, Lord Davenport did, too. So that's how they came to be in the Warwick's solarium on a sunny warm day.

Lady Warwick, dressed in a lace-trimmed new silk gown, ladened with jewels, was beside herself to have Lord Davenport in her home. She wanted to call her guests' attention to every detail of an obscene spread full of every type of fruit and confectionery imaginable. Her sisters, Regina and Mary, standing next to her, could not stop giggling throughout.

Philip uttered trite compliments while Lord Davenport gave a curt nod as he took the chair they offered him.

Then he felt her.

By a prickle on the back of his neck, he knew she was there. He rose to his feet, then took his time to turn to face her. Yet, he couldn't prepare himself for this sudden rush of something indescribable. It was as if the air thickened, time stopped, and they were all suspended in place.

Evelyn had to wrench her extended hand away when Lord Davenport held onto her for several beats too long. She warned herself not to fall into the spell of his clear blue eyes. But how was that possible when he was so tall and spell-bindingly handsome? The way he stroked her knuckles with the pad of his thumb burned into her skin and sent shivers down her spine.

Not a bad imitation of virtue, Lord Davenport thought with a derisive curl of his lips when Evelyn scooted to the furthest seat away from him.

Tea was poured. The weather and new blooms were commented on. Lady Warwick prattled on while her sisters continued to giggle at Philip's attempts at polite responses.

Lord Davenport took no notice of any of them. He plucked a ripe pear from a fruit selection and took a large bite. Out of the corners of his eyes, he watched how the rose in Evelyn's cheeks extended down her long, elegant neck. She held her teacup at her bosom and licked her lower lip after each sip. Lord Davenport let the juices from the pear pool on his tongue.

He decided, then. "If I were to have her, even once, that'll do. I'll never think of her again."

After a while, a footman wheeled the withered frame of Lord Warwick in. Everyone set aside their tea and food things to rise to their feet. His weathered head lolling to one side, Lord Warwick appeared fast asleep beneath a bulky dressing gown and blanket. Then he opened his left eye, his good eye, to peer up at Lord Davenport.

"It's good to see you again, my lord!" the Earl said in a raspy voice. The old man gestured to his wasted body. "As you can see, I'm of no use to man nor beast these days."

Lord Davenport clasped Lord Warwick's ligneous hand. "We still have much need of your wisdom, my lord."

Evelyn watched in amazement as her tormentor affected such tenderness as he stooped down to listen to Lord Warwick's strained words. This side of him disarmed her. As she gawked at him, he glanced up and caught her stare. Cheeks aflame, Evelyn buried her face in her teacup and couldn't look up again.

Lady Warwick was doing her best to gain Lord Davenport's attention. "My lord, you ought to sit in the great--"

"For heaven's sake, madam!" Lord Warwick cried, sending spittle through the gaps in his teeth. He pushed aside the teacup his wife held out to him with a force that belied his feebleness. "Men are speaking! Now, Lord Davenport, how is his Grace, your father? Still in the country then?"

Lady Warwick darted a nervous glance at her handsome, extinguished guest.

Lord Davenport had retaken his seat. "Well enough, my lord." He picked up the pear he had set aside.

The old man remembered his other guest then. He gestured to Philip. "Fine man, your brother. "

Philip cleared his throat into his fist. "Cousin, my lord. My father's--"

Lord Warwick wasn't interested in what Philip had to say. He directed his attention once more to Lord Davenport. "Did you know that his Grace and I were at school together? Did he tell you? Later, we fought many bloody battles, shagged our share of milkmaids--"

"My dear!" Lady Warwick exclaimed with a nervous laugh as she tried again to push tea on her husband.

Lord Warwick's frail frame shook as he leaned forward. His one good eye never once broke away from Lord Davenport. "Great men are prone to great folly." He tapped a twig-like finger at his own sunken chest. "No fool, like an old fool. I know that all too well. But, no matter our sins, for us good Christians, forgiveness is God's command."

A hush fell over the room.

Evelyn couldn't understand why everyone, except the two peers, looked like they would rather disappear into their seats. They all seemed to wait with bated breath for Lord Davenport's reaction. He gave none. Instead, he took another bite of his pear and chewed in silence.

The old Earl wasn't quite finished. "My judgement will be upon me soon. Sin and forgiveness are never far from my mind."

Unperturbed, Lord Davenport tossed aside the eaten fruit core to brush the sticky juices from his fingertips. "It's my luck then, that I have a few more years before I need to think of such matters."

There was a collective exhale from the others when Lord Davenport pursued the fruit tray once more. He picked up the plumpest ruby strawberry from the selection.

"Of course, one does not like to speak of the past," Lord Warwick conceded. He made several gurgling sounds in his throat and shifted in his chair. "Tell me, my lord, what news from the next by-election? Every time I pass an open window, I hear them shouting for reform. Reform! Reform what exactly? What are they on about?"

Lord Davenport's lips twitched as he twirled the strawberry by its stem. "It's to do with the distribution of parliamentary seats in the lower house. Some believe an age-old imbalance needs addressing."

"Imbalance? It's been the way it has always been. Let there be peace in the realm for once!"

"Peace is tenuous when there are feelings of injustice, my lord," Philip interjected. "There are too many discrepancies in the electorate that cannot remain unaddressed."

"It's a bloody ploy to usurp us, I tell you!" the Earl boomed. Foam formed at the corners of his mouth as his frail frame shook. "The realm will be run by a horde of lesser men. Is that what's to happen?"

"True reform will take time," Lord Davenport replied in his off-handed manner. "Most of our lot feels as you do and will not support it. Moreover, most in the lower house are disinclined to go against the lords."

"Perhaps not this ballot, but soon they'll be pressed to obey the greedy agitators or face the wrath of an inflamed mob."

Philip tried to explain. "It's a reexamination of how the lines of each borough are drawn when some are now defunct and reclaimed by nature, my lord."

"--They'll weaken the realm for their own gain!" the Earl grumbled as he pressed a handkerchief to his lips to cover a wheezing cough. "Riot for their own greed. They'll have our heads on pikes! It'll be civil war again, mark me! Meanwhile, our old enemies are waiting at our shores ready to pounce at the first show of weakness--"

"Lord Warwick," a sweet female voice piped up and put a stop to whatever Philip was about to say.

They all turned to Evelyn. All except Lord Warwick. She set her teacup aside to clutch the gold pendant hanging from her long slender white neck. "I'm certain there's no need to view reformers as hostile. In time, all things change, do they not? That must be a good thing. I trust that it will strengthen the realm, not tear it apart."

Mary and Regina exchanged bewildered glances as Lady Warwick sputtered a disapproving, "Really! Young ladies know nothing about--"

"Will all these changes bring about a better world, my lady?" Lord Davenport interjected, his attention fixed on Evelyn.

Lord Warwick had shut his eyes when Evelyn spoke. He grunted and addressed no one in particular. "Those who were not born to govern know nothing about the delicate balance of putting the good of the realm before every petty grievance contrived by the masses. They will be overwhelmed by all sorts of demands, even when they contradict each other until everything falls apart. We cannot leave governing to those who do not understand how to do it."

"Inferior men have been ennobled for their exceptionalism. Many of the lower classes can trace their lineage to kings," Evelyn replied.

The old Earl's jaw slacked, a bit of drool dripped from his lower lip in a long thin line. "Wealth and power will be abused in the hands of those who never had it. They've neither the skill nor understanding to do what needs to be done. They only see the fruits of other men's labour and understand nothing of the significant burdens of such undertakings. Look into the streets. It's full of former illiterates who were taught to read a bit and now presume to question God's will!"

"Homo unius libri," Lord Davenport quoted.

Evelyn heard him and suppressed a smile.

Lord Warwick continued on. "No good will come of all these new people with their new money. Greedy lot. They think they're our equal-- no! They'll try to replace us-- replace law and order with anarchy!"

"Wealth, possessions are inanimate objects," Evelyn said with a slight shake of her head. She tried to ignore the heat of Lord Davenport's steady gaze on her. Instead, she spoke to some spot in the distance. "They're not living, breathing things, capable of wants and needs."

"It encourages unworthy men to behave in intolerable ways," Lord Warwick replied with a dismissive wave in Evelyn's direction.

Evelyn answered. "Anything in the wrong hands can and will be misused."

"Well spoken," Philip agreed, with an eager smile at her. "But I can't imagine it's as insidious as all that."

"Goodness me!" Lady Warwick declared with a nervous laugh. "Let's not speak of such dreadful things!"

Lord Warwick ignored his wife's plea. "Inferior men once knew their place, and they were content. Then some high-minded dilatants mislead them into believing they ought to want more. But they're ill-prepared for it. Whip them into a frenzy, but to do what? Let them govern all this? Would they know how? Governing requires more than pretty speeches."

Evelyn released her pendant to fold her hands in her lap. "I think men of good moral sense will act their conscience when given a chance. I can't imagine they'd want trouble if peace means prosperity for all. Perhaps the governors ought to share the burden of duty with the governed. After all, the king was once all-powerful and overburdened --"

Lord Davenport leaned forward in his chair, bringing with him an energy that stifled Evelyn. "Carefully, Lady Evelyn," he said. "You're espousing Republican ideas. Here I thought you'd be a Royalist."

Evelyn dropped her gaze, determined to say no more. The old Earl studied Lord Davenport with renewed interest. Then he turned partway in his chair towards Evelyn, then back to Lord Davenport again. His wrinkled, sunken lips curled into a small, knowing smile. Then, with a merry tone, he called for a volume of Scriptures to be brought out as he wished to "enhance the minds of young people."

"Yes, religion is a far safer subject," Lord Davenport said.

Sensing a shift, Mary brought up a new concerto to the delight of her sisters. Regina offered to regale everyone with a new song at the harp. With everyone's attention engaged elsewhere, Evelyn stole a glance at Lord Davenport. In daylight, surrounded by the others, he was no less intimidating.

It wasn't long after their disastrous first encounter that Evelyn learned her tormentor was none other than the often mentioned Lord Davenport. Many spoke of his great wealth and extraordinary good looks with equal reverence. Such a man, Evelyn knew without being told, could not be trifled with. So she told no one of their encounters, not that she had anyone to tell. Instead, Evelyn determined to guard her every step and prayed they never crossed paths again.

The ambitious Lady Warwick, however, had other plans. She discovered Lord Davenport's routine to orchestrate several run-ins. If he noticed the frequency of their presence, he didn't let on. Luckily, there was never an opportunity to speak again. He was always in the company of other great men, huddled together to discuss important matters, no doubt. Yet, somehow Lady Warwick's persistence paid off, for here he was taking tea with them. Evelyn couldn't allow herself to wonder why.

There she sat, across the solarium from the man who haunted her dreams. Decorum and her tight bodice held her rooted into her chair when she would much rather hide in her room. She was so lost in her disquieting thoughts she didn't realise that Lord Davenport had left his seat and now stood over her shoulder.

Do not look up at him! Do not look into his mesmerising blue eyes or that striking, chiselled face.

"My lord, this weather is a bit too warm, is it not?" she said, without realising what she was saying.

"The days may yet grow cold again," he replied, his voice fraught with hidden meaning.

He held up a single ruby-red strawberry to her. Evelyn gaped at the heart-shaped fruit and wondered what he meant by it. Could the others hear how her heart thundered in her chest? But they all appeared preoccupied with Mary's song. When she didn't reach for the fruit, he held the tip of the strawberry till it grazed her lips. She snatched the strawberry from him before the others noticed.

"Where will you go when the Season ends? With the Warwicks to their country seat? Or will you be returning to-- where is home?" he asked in a low voice.

"Have I overstayed my welcome, my lord?" she retorted. To herself, she thought, "The devil is beautiful too and equally full of tricks."

She heard him chuckle. Was it possible that he heard her thoughts?

Just then, Lord Warwick called to Lord Davenport as the song ended. Evelyn stood up to retreat to a far corner, away from the others. She needed a moment to collect herself. Philip took that opportunity to approach her with a hesitant smile. "Lady Evelyn, I too think we shouldn't fear progress and reform," he said.

"What? Oh!" Evelyn stammered, startled. She toyed with the strawberry still in her hands. "Forgive me. I spoke out of turn. I'm often carried away with my opinions."

"My lady, you needn't be sorry," Philip protested with an earnest look. "You should always speak your mind in the company of friends."

"Ah, but she has no need for our friendship," Lord Davenport interjected. He had returned to cast his shadow over Evelyn and Philip. "She keeps loftier company than the likes of us. Isn't that so, Lady Evelyn?"

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean, my lord," Evelyn croaked. Her throat and her bodice felt far too tight all of a sudden.

Lord Davenport was watching her. "I'm certain I've heard the loveliness of Lady Evelyn compared to some Grecian goddess. Such a celestial being must prefer the company of kings and princes over the likes of us."

Flushed, Philip was on the verge of protesting. Then, he happened to catch Evelyn's expression fixed upon Lord Davenport. What he saw made Philip crestfallen as it was the same look most women affected when they looked at Lord Davenport. Philip nodded in silent acceptance before leaving them to find his seat again. Neither his cousin nor Lady Evelyn noticed.

"It's too hot to listen to Mary go on and on!" Regina whined to the group.

Before Mary could think of a retort, Lady Warwick clapped her hands, then leapt to her feet. "Oh, I know! You must all take a turn in the new hedge maze. It was completed this week. Come and see!"

Regina and Mary hurried forward to throw open the solarium doors for everyone. Philip decided to be helpful and took charge of wheeling the old Earl as the other ladies followed close behind.

Lord Davenport offered Evelyn his hand. To refuse was not an option. She allowed him to guide her outdoors, still clutching the strawberry in her free hand. Before too long, Evelyn realised he had shortened his long stride so that they fell far back away from the others, till the sound of their footsteps and chatter faded away.

They were quite alone when Lord Davenport asked, "Tell me, just what sort of friendship can a young woman have with a man, she sneaks into his quarters in broad daylight?"

Evelyn squinted against the blazing sun. Her head felt like it had ten drummers sitting on it beating down on her skull. Every breath she took sent another shard of pain across her ribs. "My lord is fond of riddles and games."

"Not at all."

"But, surely you're toying with me."

He peered down at her with a smile in his pale eyes. "Am I allowed some latitude, or are they for your-- special friends? Which begs the question, what sort of company do you keep?"

"I thank you for your concern," Evelyn countered. "But, there's no need."

He stopped and grabbed her arm to spin her around to face him. His deep voice was soft, even if his words cut deep. "No? After everything you've done to push into society, you seem to be throwing it all away without a care."

Evelyn flinched but steeled herself. "Why take such troubles with me?" she inquired, with more strength than she felt. Another sharp pain in her ribs made her pause for breath.

He loomed over her, so close she felt his hot breath on her face. "I saw with my own eyes you sneaking into Prince Edward's house. Now, what would possess you to do such a thing, huh?" He couldn't bring up her earlier meeting with the Elwood doppelganger lest she should accuse him of spying on her. "Answer me!"

"If you fear for my reputation, then we ought to join the others."

He caught her by her forearms. "No denial, then? Does it interest you I've not told a single soul? Foolish girl. Did you even think to ask?"

She tried to wrench herself away from him. Why did he select her to torment? "Stop," she pleaded, her voice weak. What little strength she had left, she tried to twist away from him.

He expected she might try to escape and held her tighter. Why wasn't she grateful that he was offering to keep her secrets? By now, she ought to be pleading with him and making all sorts of indecent but delightful proposals to show her gratitude.

Evelyn tried to push against his shoulder, and he caught her wrist. Suddenly, they both realised the hand he was holding up was stained and glistening with bits of crushed strawberry. Without thinking, he captured her sticky fingers in his mouth.

A thousand invisible needles prickled Evelyn's scalp. She fought for breath as the ground tilted beneath her feet. His strong arms around her, her fingers inside his mouth touching his hot, quivering tongue, sent such unfathomable sensations through her. It was as if her insides turned to liquid. Then his mouth released her fingers for her lips and a clap of thunder took direct aim at her skull.

For a fleeting moment, Lord Davenport doubted his actions. He shouldn't do this. Not here. Not like this. But raw need pushed aside sound judgement. Since that first night, he had imagined countless times how it would feel to taste those full, plush lips. Fantasy paled in comparison to reality.

Kisses were supposed to be tight-lipped, over quickly in Evelyn's experience. But, this--! He slipped his tongue into her mouth as if he meant to consume her. Sweet agony! She writhed against him, uncertain if she wanted him to stop or continue. The choice wasn't hers, though. He enveloped her. Devoured her. Her throat closed. Her mind shattered. Then the whole world turned black.

"Evelyn!"

Lord Davenport jerked his head away from her. The others had returned and stood before him in the narrow hedged passage, gaping at the stupefying sight of Evelyn's collapsed body draped in his arms.

"Quick!" Lord Davenport commanded, without missing a beat. "Lady Evelyn has fainted from the heat."

That's all the explanation Lady Warwick needed. "Send for the doctor!"

There was a flurry of activity as everyone followed Lord Davenport, carrying Evelyn, back to the house. There were shouts for a doctor, for water, for brandy as they went. Then, when the servants weren't quick enough, the ladies scattered to chase them down. Despite the excitement, or because of it, Lord Warwick nodded off in his chair.

Lord Davenport laid the inert Evelyn on a chaise, then brushed a lock of dark hair away from her perfect face. She looked so peaceful, with dark fans of her lashes resting on her dewy cheeks.

"Evelyn," he called softly. No response. Not a flutter from her thick lashes. Clever little minx.

He could still taste strawberries and her lips. It took all of his strength not to taste her again. When he forced himself to back away, he looked up to find himself faced with Philip's stormy, accusing glare.