Aris and Evangeline - Sins and Vexations

Aristotle sat in Jean's study tipping back rum like water as he paced his carpet like a caged lion. He was highly vexed. So much so, he felt like running back home to throttle the very cause of this rage. How dare she? That harlot. She could easily take what he gave and make it meaningless. Was she that cold? Was she that disenchanted? He played back their afternoon in his head. The passion she'd yield. The mutual pleasure they'd shared. The feelings she had wroth from his body. It had rocked his very core. It still did. She had to be a devil, a witch.

"You're going to wear a hole in that carpet and Eloise is going to be furious," Jean teased with a smile, reaching for his own glass.

"Beg her forgiveness on my behalf." Aristotle fell into the chair spent.

"What has you so angry?"

"Her?"

"Oh. Her." Jean smirked behind his glass. "What has she done to you?"

"I can't explain it, Jean. She's a witch. A woman capable of turning on passion like a lit match and then extinguishing it like a rushing breath. She's evil."

Jean chuckled at his friend's consternation. "Mon ami, you've just been spoiled by women. They see you and fall helplessly in love with you. She's experienced. She doesn't have to settle for one man since she's already got the title of widow. A young one at that."

"She excites me."

"I have no doubt."

"She challenges me."

"Indeed."

"I'm obsessed with her and I've only know the woman barely two days."

"It will wear off," Jean assured. "She's new and a bit of challenge. That makes her even more intriguing. The woman has the right idea. Follow her lead."

"How?"

"For one thing, cut her cold. You say she won't sleep with you on Sundays?" At his nod, Jean laughed still not believing that tidbit. "Well, don't appear on her doorstep until Wednesday. If she's as lusty as you say she is, then she's bound to cave."

Aristotle pondered his words seriously. The trouble was could he do it? "I don't know who that spites more. Her or me?" At that, Jean burst out laughing at his old friend's expense.


Midnight struck on the clock in the hall. The chimes resounded throughout the house, dying just outside Evangeline's bedroom. She had had quite the trouble falling into a slumber. Beating her pillow and tossing the sheets to and fro were just some of the methods she had tried. She was frustrated. All evening she had dealt battle with herself. Not even the respite of Madeline's rudeness could alleviate the dilemmas prancing about in her head. Some of it was guilt at rebuffing his advances in the carriage. They had been having such a lovely day with one another. But Evangeline could not let well enough alone. She had to destroy this... what?

It wasn't as if Aristotle had professed love for her. Good Lord, it had only been two days. The man wasn't that much a fool. Then why rebuff him? It was her. She was the trouble. This afternoon in the townhouse had been far more than she had anticipated. He had stirred feelings deep with her that should not rise. She had no time for such commitments or follies. Men were good for only one thing, ensuring her pleasure. She was rich, powerful and respected. She no longer needed to whore herself out to feed herself or protect her brothers. The only love she'd ever known was that of her parent's.

She remembered how they used to kiss when they thought no one was watching. Or how her mother's eyes sparkled when he came into the room. That was love - pure and true. Sadly, that sparkle vanished when her father died. The blush of her mother's cheeks had dissolved to paleness at the heartbreak. Her mother was never the same. Evangeline simply refused to let any man do that to her. Anwar had come close, but upon closer inspection she had suffered a serious child's crush on the man. It was not true and definitely wasn't pure. So what was different about Aristotle?

He never seemed appalled by her past dealings. He'd listened to her stories without placing judgement or common opinion. He allowed her to be comfortable in his world. He also made her giddy. She could admit she had been foolish with her rebuff. Now, at least. However, it was a necessary evil. She could lose her heart very easily to this man. With that thought, she'd sighed wearily until sleep had finally took her.

Shaky, unbalanced footsteps crept through the hall. Aristotle tried his hardest to keep quiet, despite his drunkenness. Jean had offered him the guest room but he'd refused with the excuse of a meeting in the morning. There was no meeting, he really wanted to see his Evangeline. He stumbled into a statue nearly toppling it from its perch. Shushing the inanimate object, he proceeded down the dark hall. Jacques usually met him downstairs to help him to bed on nights like this, but with the late hour, the valet probably assumed he had taken Jean's offer.

At first, he had every intention of passing Evangeline's door to go to his room without a single thought. Stupidity, however, had him standing before her door like a lovesick puppy. His clumsy fingers reached for the knob and grinned when he found it unlocked. Opening the door wide, he made out the curvy frame in the bed. Already his manhood swelled. How was this vixen capable of such trickery even in her sleep?

Stumbling forward, he proceeded to remove his clothes, tossing them to the floor carelessly. His blurry, red shot eyes focused in on his prey. He gripped himself like a sword and leaped back and forth like a skilled fencer. Yes, he would slay this witch and her wretched spells. Chuckling to himself, he continued on with Evangeline none the wiser to his antics. Finally, reaching the bed, he tried to mount it, but found his legs could not move or cooperate. So, he stared down at her in her peaceful slumber. Her lush lips were parted, inviting. Her breathing was steady and rhythmic, like the lulls of the waves. She was absolutely stunning with her hair tousled about her. His fingers grazed her cheek, tracing their smoothness about her brow bone. He leaned down to kiss her, when her eyes opened pinning him. Surprised registered, then great annoyance.

"Aristotle, what do you think you are doing?"

Slurring his words, he straightened up giving Evangeline full view of his half erect manhood. "You tempt me even in sleep, Eve. And how dare you be cross with me when you're the reason I'm in this state, silly girl?"

Recognizing his inebriated state, Evangeline knew she could not toy with him. Drunks were a hazard she had known all to well. Mustering up resolve, she put aside her annoyance with him for now. She rose from the bed and gently took his arm.

"Then let us retire to your room, where you will be comfortable and far from my wickedness."

"No, I wish to have me. I mean, you wish to have you. Wait, that's not right either."

Evangeline couldn't help but chuckle. He was a silly drunk. This eased her tension a bit. "But, Aris, who said I wouldn't oblige you, but you see it is most unfortunate. I've started my time and we simply cannot-"

"Oh, say no more." He waved away trying to swim to the door taking the lie for truth. "I want nothing to do with your womanly machinations."

Evangeline had to bite her lips to keep from laughing aloud. He should have recalled from this afternoon she had not been in such a state, but men were clueless to a woman's condition. "That is very kind of you, Aris. Now, let's get you to bed."

Resigned to leave, Aristotle began to teeter toward the door. Then he rocked back, taking her with him. "No, I will stay here!"

"What? Why?"

"I don't know. No, wait, I do know, because it's my damn house and I can sleep wherever I wish and if I wish to sleep in your bed, then so be it." With that he marched over to the bed and fell on it, leaving a shocked and appalled Evangeline at the door.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, she closed the door quietly, and picked up his rumpled clothes from the floor and placed them on the bench. Aristotle had fallen face forward across bed. Evangeline attempted to move him into the right position. With some shoving and tugging, she accomplished the task, then crawled in next to him. His back was to her, so she'd given him hers. Then suddenly, he flipped over, dropping his hefty arm on her side rendering her breathless. In the same motion, he pulled her flush to his frame. His head rested above hers and she could hear the smooth strains of sleep claim him. Nestling further into the embrace, Evangeline did much of the same.


The bright sun pierced through the slits of Aristotle's blood shot eyes, forcing him to squint against it. Lifting his head slightly, he gazed about the room. Somewhere in the distance he heard humming. Then suddenly he remembered where he was and how he got there. Good Lord, what had he done? Grabbing the empty sheets next to him, he tried to verify the body next to his. Where was she? The humming. He sat up quickly only to fall back from the rushing pain to his skull.

"Oh, are we awake?" Evangeline teased coming toward the foot of the bed. She was dressed in her Sunday best and was adjusting a pearl stud as she watched him agonize his aching head.

"Barely." He rasped through the thickness in his throat. He took in her appearance through the slits of his fingers. "Where are you off to this early?"

"Jacques has pointed me toward his family church and I plan to take it in," she stated firmly grabbing her purse and Bible.

"You were serious?" He winced with pain from the exclamation which made her chuckle richly.

"The old man had a thing about church and so the habit stuck," she admitted. "Besides you meet your best business partners in the church yard. Furthermore Jacques said the church was beautiful and my interest was piqued."

She could barely make out the disbelieving glint from under his shielding hand. Shrugging she made her way to the door. She looked utterly fetching in her assemble of pale yellow and cream. The woman never ceased to amaze him with her style. He remembered the way the men in the restaurant had gazed at her, drooling. She'd no doubt cause the same stir at the church with her presence. Something about that didn't sit well with Aristotle. In fact, he didn't like it at all. Swooping the sheets back, he stumbled out of bed.

"Evangeline! Wait!"

Evangeline had just made it to the stairs when she heard Aristotle's booming voice. Then she watched as his naked form came bolting down the hall. She stifled a laugh when he came to stop before her.

"I'm coming with you."

"Not like that you are." Her eyes drifted downward, which made the large man aware of his state.

"Wait for me in the carriage." He called back as he ran to his room holding his head.

Evangeline finally let out the laugh before descending the stairs. Jacques had already called the coach around for her. Now, what had gotten under his skin to make him want to attend church? The ways things had gone yesterday evening she was sure he would avoid her with all haste. Not that she wasn't glad for it, since she had behaved rather poorly herself.

"So the slut is up already."

Evangeline closed her eyes and inhaled slowly. Oh, that's right, Madeline. She turned to see the girl sashay down the steps in a satin robe. "You must've beat me to it."

"Don't think I've forgotten our discourse from yesterday."

"I was trying to. I must thank you for the reminder."

"So, where are you off to?"

"Church."

Suddenly, Madeline burst out laughing at the answer as if it was the best joke she'd ever heard. Evangeline stood unmoved by the clear insult. "They'd actually allow a harlot like you in."

"At least I can walk in without bursting into flames," Evangeline countered quieting the girl.

"I have no need for such trivialities."

"I'm sure the Lord thanks you for sparing his time. Makes his job easier."

Madeline pouted. The bitch had a rejoinder for everything. Her wit could cut like a knife. "You best watch yourself, whore."

"Or what?"

Madeline was about to respond, when Jean-Pierre came down the stairs. He threw his little body into Evangeline squeezing the breath from her. She smiled down at him, rubbing his head. Madeline watched the exchange and practically seethed anger. Her own son had never hug her so. What was so special about this bitch? In a rage, she snatched his little arm and was about to pop him when strong fingers laced about her wrists staying her fist. She turned her glare on the person, only to recoil in fear.

"Aristotle!" she gasped.

"Maddy, how many times have I told you-"

"I'm sorry, Aris, but he was being foolish with this -"

"He merely gave me a hug, no harm done." Evangeline defended Jean-Pierre, allowing the boy to hide behind her. Had Aristotle not blocked Madeline's attempt when he did, she would've gladly down so. The woman was completely unstable. She had seen the rage in her eyes and she was going to punch him. Punch. When he hadn't even deserved it. If she could do this to a child, she was danger to civil company. The girl was far too young for such rage.

"I'm taking Jean-Pierre with me. I suggest you calm yourself down by the time I return."

"I don't want that slut anywhere near my son."

"When you start acting like a mother instead of this," he waved his hand up and down indicating her state, "then I'll trust you around him. Until then -"

With that, he gestured for Evangeline and the boy to exit. They could hear Madeline screech her dissatisfaction as they closed the door. Aristotle felt terrible for the servants left behind who had not left already for church. Madeline would take it out on them. When he returned he would have Jacques give them the remainder of the day off. Shaking his achy head, he watched as Jean-Pierre assisted Evangeline into the coach like a little gentleman.

"Madame," he bowed, causing his uncle to smirk, despite the nasty hangover clamoring for his attention. Jovially, he hoisted the boy into the air causing a peal of laughter to resound.

"Monsieur." He teased depositing the lad in the seat next to her before climbing in himself. He motioned for the driver to go. They were quiet until they had passed through gates. "I'm sorry for Madeline. She can be a bit much."

"So, I've witnessed. She's a bit of a temper."

"That is mildly putting it." His eyes fell on Jean-Pierre lovingly. He was thankful the boy had not inherited any of his mother's qualities in temperament. He was a good boy. He loved his sister dearly but his mother had spoiled her mercilessly and had a nerve to send her to him when she could no longer control her. Sometimes he had a mind to throw her over his knee for a sound adjustment. He had come close to nearly doing so seven years ago when she had caused that unforgivable scandal, but she had been pregnant with Jean-Pierre and could not. To this day, the subject had been far too touchy and both parties had agreed to let things be.

"Where are we going, Madame Evangeline?" the boy wondered.

"Church." She replied absently looking at his uncle who rubbed his own temples carefully. "It appears your uncle is in need of a healing."

"Are you ill, Ton-ton?"

Aristotle shot Evangeline a glare at the reminder. "Nothing that can't be fixed by an hour and a half or so of Father Kavanagh's incessant bellowing."

The boy laughed then whispered to Evangeline. "Father Kavanagh is very old and can't hear very well. So, when he does the incantations he's most loud and off key."

"Oh my." Evangeline fanned herself with exaggerated concern. "Will you be alright, Aris? I wouldn't want you spirited to death."

He sneered his lip as they pulled into the church yard. Parishioners were filing into the small chapel greeting each other. Both Aristotle and Jean-Pierre dismounted the coach and simultaneously lent their hand to Evangeline. She smiled and graciously accepted both. She handed her bible to the boy, which he held sacredly in his tiny fingers, not for the words but more for who it belonged to. Curious eyes watched her. Some bold individuals actually greeted Aristotle then eyed her for an introduction which he swiftly ignored.

"I take it you don't get to church often."

"Not unless my mother visits," he stated truthfully guiding her toward the door.

"Aristotle!"

He stiffened at the shocked female voice behind him. Turning, he caught sight of Jean clutching his own forehead much in the same fashion he had. Next to him stood the petite but beautiful Eloise Monroe. Her raven long hair was hidden beneath a fancy church hat, but her rich dark chocolate skin was immaculately on display. They all had known each other in their younger years and in all that time, she had not changed a bit. Aristotle always said she was far too pretty to be latched to that idiot of a friend of his. But he actually envied Jean for finding the love of his life, even after all the unpleasantness.

"I don't believe it!" she continued to squeal as she hugged him.

"I can't either." Jean mumbled, glaring at his friend.

"I ought to throttle you for what you did to Jean last night. We nearly missed church."

"Don't worry the drink is doing a good job of it. It's his fault buying the cheap stuff."

Jean bristled knowing full well his stock was far better than his. His eyes fell on the little boy and an immediate sadness filled him. After a moment, he smiled weakly at him, then as if remembering, he quickly looked away. Evangeline noticed this strange exchange and banked it for a later conversation with Aristotle.

"Eloise, may I introduce Aristotle's guest, Madame Evangeline Montiero, since he is to besotted to do so."

Aristotle sneered at his friend as the two women shook hands.

"A pleasure, Madame." Eloise greeted. "I do hope you are enjoying your visit."

"Best forced vacation I've had in years." Evangeline teased causing both men to cough loudly.

"What?"

"Let's get inside, Eloise, before there are no seats left." Jean quickly ushered his wife inside before anymore curious questions surfaced.

"What did she mean 'forced' vacation?" Evangeline heard the petite woman ask her flustered husband who had been well aware of the tale.

She hid a smile behind her hand as Aristotle took her arm to lead her inside. The look he had given her had been priceless.

Church had not been so terrible. As it turned out, Father Kavanagh had allowed Father Maurice to run the service having taken ill that morning with a cold. Thank God, for Father Maurice was a soft-spoken fellow with a pleasing voice. Unfortunately, Eloise and Evangeline had to nudge their respective companies from their dozing because of it. Jean-Pierre had giggled the whole time, which had drawn Captain Monroe's eyes to the boy again. Eloise had patted his leg as if to console him. Evangeline had taken note of this as well. What was it about the boy that kept drawing his eyes to him?

She had also noted that the couple had no children of their own, maybe they were recently married. She had watched from the corner of her eyes throughout the service as Eloise had waved at the boy, who had also shyly waved back. At one point, Eloise had passed him something, which made Jean-Pierre smile happily. She had noted how Aristotle had stiffened at the exchange as if annoyed. Why would he be? This definitely would be a topic of conversation.

While Jean-Pierre played in the yard with the other children, Evangeline stood with Eloise, watching. "Do you and Monsieur Monroe have any children?"

A sadness came over Eloise. "Unfortunately, I am incapable of bearing children."

"I'm sorry." Evangeline sympathized.

"It's alright. I'm saddened but Jean says that we could look into maybe taking in one of the orphans."

Evangeline smiled. "You seem taken with Jean-Pierre."

"He's a darling little boy. Smart, too. I used to be his teacher. He was one of my best students. " She beamed with pride, then her eyes grew sad again. "Until his mother demanded he be tutored at home."

Evangeline nodded understandingly. She looked closely at the boy, then turned her gaze over to captain, who was in a deep conversation with Aristotle. When she had first seen the boy, he had favored Aristotle, but examining him further she noted he resembled the captain as well. Were they family? While Aristotle had dark brown eyes, Jean-Piere and Jean had gorgeous slate gray eyes. Their hair bended same as well. And they both had handsome broad smiles, when Jean did smile, which was not happening now. What were they discussing?

"They're at it again." Eloise sighed also watching the men. "Please excuse me."

She watched as Eloise went to break up the conversation before too many eyes drew to them. The tiny thing pushed between the two combatant best friends try to bring the peace. Her presence immediately drew a truce to their discourse. Evangeline watched as Eloise touched Jean's cheek gently, whispering something soothing. Shaking his head in frustration, he grabbed her hand and stalked off. Aristotle watched as his best friend left and sighed heavily. She noted the sadness in his eyes, but quickly saw him hide it before he too stalked back toward her.

"We're going." He growled passing her to retrieve his nephew.


The ride home was most quiet. Aristotle's thoughts were far away. What made him think he would've gotten out of that encounter with Jean? He knew he had been asking for trouble taking his nephew along. Why hadn't he remembered they'd be in the congregation? Because he had been too busy trying to make sure Evangeline hadn't drawn any male parishioner's notice. Drat that woman. Even despite his presence, she had been overwhelmed by several men wanting to make introductions and welcome her. And she had relished it.

Growing tired of the quiet, Evangeline spoke. "He favors him."

"What?"

"Your nephew favors him." She repeated pointedly, looking for him to deny it.

Aristotle sighed looking at his nephew who was nestled by Evangeline quietly watching the clouds. "I know."

"I don't mean to pry, but what had you and Monroe in a twist?"

His eyes stared at his nephew, then her as if to answer her question. Evangeline nodded. "He obviously cares for the boy."

"He does but he's not the one acknowledged as his father."

"I beg your pardon?" Evangeline was shocked.

"I can't discuss it here." Aristotle promptly ended the conversation and Evangeline respected his wish, but decided for another tactic. Then an opening came.

"Madame Monroe looked pretty today," Jean-Pierre commented.

"Do you like Madame Monroe?" Evangeline asked.

"Oh yes, she is most nice to me and sometimes she'll give me a chocolate - like today. She knows cherry bon-bons are my favorite."

"She said you were her best student."

"Did she?" the boy beamed, happily.

"Oh yes." She assured him hugging him closer, then glanced over at Aristotle, who contemplated the boy's reaction. "She simply ador-"

"Evangeline, enough." He warned.

Their eyes did battle. She could see the anger simmer below the surface. So, this was more serious than she had earlier assumed. This time she backed down in earnest, not wanting to subject the boy. But her curiosity had been far too piqued. It wasn't long before they reached the villa. Jean-Pierre jumped from the coach saying he wanted to tell Jacques all about what Madame Monroe had said.

Evangeline watched him disappear into the house then turned her gaze on Aristotle who pinned her with a glare so intense she actually felt taken aback, but not enough to back down. He motioned for the driver to leave. The two of them sat facing each other dueling with their eyes.

"Do yourself a favor and stay out of my family business."

"It's rather hard considering I'm in the midst of it."

"I can gladly ensconce you in the townhouse to be away from it."

"So, my assumptions are right. He is the boy's father. Now why is he not the acknowledged one."

"It all boiled down to money." Aristotle growled furiously. "Madeline didn't even know who the father was until the boy was born and could clearly see he was Jean's."

"And let me guess, Monroe didn't have the ductets."

"My sister as you know is a bit tempestuous."

"I'd add in promiscuous, if I were you." That statement earned her a glare of dissatisfaction.

He sighed wearily. "Madeline had come to me saying that the Count Pierre Devereaux had taken her innocence. But I later learned from Jean that she and he had had a drunk one night stand at a soiree I had here in the house at the same time as the Count's visit. He had wanted to make amends and marry her, but my sister vehemently denied the claim. Soon, her little trysts bore fruit and she had been so sure it was the count's until she got a good look and saw that the child indeed favored Jean. She was furious, but my sister continued to insist it was the count's child."

"But you knew it was Jean's. Why wouldn't you allow the man to claim the boy?"

Aristotle sighed again, looking away. "You don't think I wanted to. Jean and mine's friendship has suffered horribly over this. There was a full year he would not speak to me. But she's my blood, for better or worse. And to make matters worse, the count was not willing to marry my sister, but he did and still does pay a tidy sum to take care of the child, which makes her more than happy. Once a year, the count takes my sister to Paris to lavish her with gifts for herself and the boy. He has no interest in meeting him, which is why Jean-Pierre never goes."

"Let me guess. She's really his mistress and the money he pays is to keep her quiet."

"Exactly. You are far too perspective, Eve."

"Well, I do have experience in that department."

Aristotle chuckled. "Yes, but you are nothing like Madeline. Her spoiled nature makes her do foolish things, like give a child a name reflecting her reputation. I thought I would kill her when she'd given him the name Jean-Pierre. Jean was prepared to do the same."

Evangeline did think it odd the boy had his first name, but now knowing the story and knowing Madeline, she understood. "She did it for spite."

"I didn't want to believe that, but sure enough. To make matters worse, Madeline refuses to let Jean see the boy or even let him acknowledge he is his son or else she'll send him away."

"Could she do that?"

"She is the boy's mother and he's not the acknowledged father. So, Jean stays quiet." Aristotle met her eyes. "Once in while, like today, Jean musters the nerve to get me to change Madeline's mind about the boy. But I cannot bring myself to betray my sister, despite her questionable actions."

Evangeline's heart ached. "She doesn't love that boy, Aris."

He glared at her. "How can you make such a claim?"

"Because I know. I can see it in her eyes. She has no love for that little boy. She hates him. With every fiber of her soul. And the fact she would deny his real father for a man who could give her riches, proves she is no real mother."

"Evangeline, you overstep yourself."

"Do I? Then you don't step enough when it comes to your sister. Put yourself in Jean's place. Would you allow some woman to disclaim your fatherly right?"

Aristotle chewed on her words, but she was right. Jean had made the same claim to him many times.

"Mark my words, Aris. Your sister's lunacy will cost you your best friend or something far more precious."

"Duly noted," he said before changing the subject. "Now, as for you."

"What about me?"

"Are you dead set on keeping me from you bed today? Or can I renegotiate?"


Evangeline smirked mischievously. "I'm afraid that is ironclad, Monsieur Beauvois."


Aristotle stared her up and down. "There is nothing I can do."


Evangeline thought about it, then deepened her smile to a slow grin. "How about I cook you a lavish dinner?"


This caused Aristotle to laugh, then glancing up he saw there was no humor coming from Evangeline. "Oh, come now, Eve."


"Did you forget that I was a servant at one time, Aris? Cooking was one of my many duties."


He sobered up, nodding his head in agreement. "Fine. I accept your challenge, if you can also whip up a dessert with that meal."

"I'll do you one better. The dessert I make will make you forget about not being able to have me this night."


He laughed again. "And if it fails."


"I'll consider breaking the arrangement for just this night."


"You're on."

She smirked, merrily as they continued to ride on.