* * *
Everly’s heart nearly came to a halt as she stared at Asher. Last night, he’d claimed that she didn’t know him, yet it appeared that he knew her very well.
Far too well for her liking.
How did he know her true reasoning? Everly often told friends she wouldn’t marry simply because she liked her power, but no one knew just how powerless she’d been as a child. She’d been unable to breathe without her father’s say-so. Her mother had grown ill because of him and his need to dominate her.
She’d been forbidden to go outdoors, to open windows or stand close to them and gain their sunlight.
Lady Ellervear had withered away in their country house.
She stared at Asher. “How did you know?”
He seemed to struggle to find the right reply. “I’m observant.”
The answer was vague. Had he been watching the world or only her?
Likely the world. He was a duke after all. It was unlikely he’d singled her out for any reason. He’d never even come to any of her parties.
Until last night.
Then he’d kissed her.
But then he’d called the kiss silly, and Everly was reassured that he’d not meant to do it. There was no reason that either of them should feel any embarrassment over it. She was glad that was settled.
“Ask your question,” Everly instructed, though now she regretted starting this game. He was already digging deeper into her soul that anyone else had dared venture.
“What is... your favorite color?” he asked.
She was shocked. “Green.”
His eyes flashed warmly and then he turned to go back to his book.
He’d known the answer. She didn’t know how she knew, but she knew.
He’d only asked her that because he could tell she didn’t wish to play the game anymore.
Asher was being a gentleman.
She liked that.
“What’s yours?” she asked.
He closed his eyes as though he needed to think about it. Then he looked at her. “Red.”
Her breath caught. Had she imagined the flash of heat in his gaze? Had the word been growled?
Surely not.
Surely, his choice wasn’t based on her hair.
Everly was being silly.
The game went on that way. Favorite tree. Favorite song. A dare to sing their favorite song. Then hum another.
She laughed, surprised to be having so much fun with the dull Duke of Asher.
And as the day went on, she realized just how right he’d been when he’d said that she didn’t know him.
She didn’t.
But how much did she truly wish to know?
Valiant joined them sometime later and all commenced in reading the law books, in an effort to help Everly.
She was grateful to Valiant as well and glad her friend had come.
They arrived at a decent inn later that afternoon. Thankfully, Wycliff had sent a servant ahead to secure rooms, because the foyer and small dining room were filled to the brim with people who were on their way to London. Everly recognized many from the party and tried to recall just how many of the women had natural red hair and who’d worn a wig.
She recalled Lady Cambridge coming as Elizabeth I. Her red wig had been piled high with plenty of ringlets around her face.
Then there’d been King Arthur and Lady Guinevere, who was usually said to have red locks. Mr. and Mrs. Williams had dressed the part.
She saw both women now.
There’d been others, but it was hard to concentrate with all the noise surrounding her.
“We’ll compile a thorough list after dinner,” Asher said at her ear, showing him to be in tune with her thoughts. “I’ve already taken Valiant to her room. She’ll, of course, not be joining the main room for dinner.”
“Of course.” Everly took his arm and allowed him to escort her from the foyer and toward the back. She found the halls far quieter.
“We’ve rooms right next to each other,” Asher said. “Valiant is on your other side.”
“So that I don’t escape?” she joked, even though she was once again frightened for her future. Now that they were at the inn, her fears grew. “We cannot delay. We must leave at first light tomorrow and make it to the city with enough time to call on Lord Fallen.”
“I agree.” At her door, he asked, “Shall I give you an hour? We’ll dine with the others so that the faces of those present can bring to memory others.”
She nodded.
He touched her shoulder and, in the dim light of the hall, she looked at him.
“You’ll be fine, Everly.” There was peace in his expression.
“How do you know?” she asked. He was so very certain when she was not. “Anything could happen.”
“Not while I am here.”
She recalled his comment about her life being in his hands. She’d resented it then just as much as she resented it now.
Yet, now she also recalled those few moments before he’d made the comment that stoked her ire. He’d grabbed her hand and pulled her into his protective arms. He’d stood up for her and believed in her.
Though his comment should have soothed her, she was still worried. The knots in her stomach tightened.
“Rest for a while,” he told her. “If you’re not up to eating then just have a maid send food to your room or sleep through the night. Do whatever you feel is best.”
Do whatever she felt was best?
A few of the knots in her stomach unraveled. At least he was giving her some control over herself.
“Thank you, Your Grace. You’ll never know how very grateful I am to you.”
He smiled so easily at her. “Rest well.” He left her at her door and departed to his own.
Everly went to her rooms, stripped from her travel dress, and crawled under the sheets.
Then she closed her eyes, but long minutes later, she realized she was far too worried to sleep.
She had no idea what to do with herself. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been nervous about anything. Usually, others were nervous about her.
She hadn’t felt this weak in so long. It was almost as though she were a child again, locked away in the small attic whenever it was time to punish her, not allowed to play in the gardens or visit her mother who grew more ill by the day.
It was only when she’d proven herself to be a good hostess that her father began to give her some freedom. As Prime Minister, it had been his duty to entertain political allies and Everly, with her endless imagination and natural charm, had provided one grand event after another. Soon, an invitation to the Ellervear townhouse had been one of the most coveted of the Season.
Yet when the party ended, Everly was once again a prisoner of her house.
Her father had been dead for nearly eight years, and Everly had vowed to never feel this way again.
∫ ∫ ∫
1 2
Throwing back the covers, Everly stood and dressed for dinner, but before she ate, she would walk the gardens she’d spotted behind the inn from the road.
She knocked on Valiant’s door but found her friend to be asleep, so she set out alone.
There was just enough light in the sky to make out the flowerbeds. Many of the plants had yet to bloom, their plots dark with soil, but others were a pretty sight in the orange and pale blue evening light.
There were guests besides herself walking the gardens.
The sight of one woman, in particular, made her stomach fall.
Miss Abigail Christensen caught sight of Everly at the same time and narrowed her gaze before she departed the company of her friends and started for Everly.
Everly met her halfway. “Unless you approach to apologize and beg for my forgiveness, I would suggest you remain very far from me.”
“I’m amazed they set you free.” Abigail’s looked Everly over with her large blue eyes. Her voice was louder than need be. “I didn’t know they allowed crimina
ls to walk the same streets as the innocent.”
Everly gasped and looked around. A few of the people in the garden were looking in their direction. She recognized a few lords and mentally forbid her cheeks from becoming flushed.
“I’m innocent, as you well know,” Everly hissed.
Abigail began to inspect her gloved hand. “I know nothing of the sort, but I’ll be sure to explain your innocence to my friends when I tell them my story.” She smiled up at Everly then.
Her cheeks stung. “You will keep my name out of your mouth.”
“Or?” Abigail challenged. “I may not be highborn, but even I know that blood doesn’t always ensure good breeding..”
Everly grunted. “Nouveau riche. Have you any idea of the power my word holds? All I must do is whisper the right thing in the right ear and it will thoroughly ruin you. How well do you think you’ll be received if your claimed ‘innocence’ comes into question?” Not that Everly would ever start a rumor so obscene. She’d never do that to any woman. There were lines one didn’t cross, but Abigail didn’t know that. “You may as well head home. You’ll not enjoy this Season, Miss Christensen.”
Anger burned in the child’s eyes, but she was also breathing erratically. “You started this!”
“I don’t even want him,” Everly countered. “He is all yours, I assure you.” Though, not really, Everly thought, since the duke was not receptive of the child’s attraction.
Abigail seemed to hesitate, as though she were truly listening. “Very well, but if I might ask, who vouched for you to be released from the cell? When I left, there was barely anyone from the party left in town.”
Everly thought to lie, but then saw no point. Abigail would soon see her and the duke together. “Ayers vouched for me. In fact, he and his sister Lady Beaumont are taking me to London to help me right my name. Nothing more. We are only friends.” She didn’t like fighting, especially with someone so beneath her usual notice.
She wanted her and Miss. Christensen to part with ease.
But from what she saw reflected in the young girl’s face, that was not to be.
Abigail paled. Then she pursed her lips. “You snake. I trusted you. I’ll not let you win.”
Was the child deaf?
“I shall have him. Mark my words. You’re old. You’ve already had your chance.”
Old? She was only thirty-one!
The comment bit at Everly’s spirit. Could she have the duke if she wanted him? She doubted it. He’d never go for her, yet deep down inside, she knew it had nothing to do with her age and everything to do with them both being set in their ways.
Still, she was angry.
She’d told the girl she didn’t want the duke, yet at the same time, an insensible thought came to mind.
Everly smiled. “You should have seen it, Miss Christensen, when the duke came to my rescue. He shouted at the constable and would have broken the irons had they not unlocked the door in time.”
Abigail’s mouth hung open. “It w-was only because you are a l-lady.”
Everly rubbed her hand against her cheek. She looked away as though at a fond memory. “And then he held me.”
“You lie! I know it.” Abigail crossed her arms like an indignant child. “What else can I expect from a thief?”
“We did kiss,” Everly reminded her. “Or do you not remember? Lord Ayers believes in my innocence, and I don’t believe he’d take kindly to you saying otherwise.”
“I never said otherwise,” Abigail quickly said. “I’ve only said what I know.”
“I would appreciate it if you said nothing,” Everly told her.
Abigail looked away. “Very well, but only because I have great respect for the duke. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must see to my friends.” She departed quickly.
Everly took one calming breath after another.
“What was that about?” Asher’s voice startled her.
* * *
Asher studied Everly’s face and then watched a smile touch her lips.
“Miss Christensen and I had a lovely chat, but it has left me terribly hungry. Is dinner ready?”
“It is,” he said. “I came out here to escort you.”
She took his arm and returned to the inn.
They sat at a table in the back of the room, and he was glad to see that ink and paper had been readied as he’d asked.
The dining room overflowed with people familiar to him. On occasion, he and Everly spoke to those they knew, but otherwise, they were left alone.
“Lady Campbell,” Everly began to write. “She wore a red wig, a large one.”
“I believe you’re forgetting one part of Lord Fallen’s description of the culprit.”
Everly looked at him.
He paused for a moment before saying, “He described the woman as being very beautiful.”
She flushed. “Well, Lady Campbell is lovely.”
“And about to celebrate her eightieth birthday,” Asher said. “I would imagine Lord Fallen was describing someone a bit younger.”
Everly put down her pen as beef stew was brought to their table. “If he thought the woman young then there’s no reason I should have been mistaken for the thief. I’m a spinster.”
The most yearned-for spinster in all of London.
Asher heard men speak of her all the time, telling one another how much they craved to have her in their beds. They were not ashamed to speak of the fantasies that included Everly with her hair unbound and her body bare.
Asher turned to his stew. “Let us set an age limit?”
“What age?” she asked.
He thought and then shook his head. “No, bad idea.” He knew quite a few women in their forties and fifties who were quite stunning, ladies who were mistresses to lords even half their age.
Everly had another suggestion. “How about I say a name and you tell me whether or not the lady is attractive.”
Asher’s looked up. “I would imagine that a lady such as yourself would revolt against the very notion.”
Everly tilted her head. “We are not trying to choose you a bed partner, Your Grace. This list could save my life. At least, my social life.”
His mind was momentarily stuck on the fact that she’d mentioned a ‘bed’ in his presence. Such words were danced around between women and men, but he managed to right his mind when he realized what else she’d said.
“Your life is not in any danger,” he reminded her.
“Lady Campbell,” she began.
“Don’t put her on the list,” he said before taking a spoonful of the stew. The flavor was pleasant.
“Mrs. Williams.”
“Who?” he asked.
“From Oxford,” she said before taking a sip of her meal.
Asher remembered her. “No, not her.”
Everly’s eyes widened, and she put her spoon down. “Mrs. Williams is quite lovely. I’ve heard more than one lord say as much. Surely, you can see it.”
All Asher could see was Everly.
It was a shameful thought, but it was the truth. If he were to compare her beauty to any other’s, then everyone else would be found wanting.
“This is a terrible idea.”
“I’m putting her on the list,” Everly decided. And then she went on to name a few others.
Asher became more lenient with his choices. Everly fought him on more than a few. The conversation grew humorous.
“She’s very refined,” Everly said about a Lady Gillingbish who Asher only recalled vaguely.
“Refined does not mean beautiful.” He crossed his arms and leaned back in his seat. “We’re speaking of a lady the man only glimpsed once and likely very quickly. This is not a list for invitations to Almack’s. Social status and one’s refinement need not be mentioned.”
She chuckled. “Very well. What is beauty?”
“That’s a vague question.” He paused to think. “For a moment, we should be looking for those who have a face that would call for an imme
diate and pleasant reaction.” Then he shook his head. “I want you to make note of how much I detest this conversation.”
“I shall make a note of it, though I can’t agree.” She leaned forward. “With any other gentleman, yes, I would likely be shouting to the roof about the injustice. But you? I’m getting to know you better. So, you believe a beautiful woman should stir the heart at first glance?”
Or stir something else. “Yes,” he drawled after another lengthy pause.
She narrowed her gaze and for a moment he wondered if she knew his thoughts. “Am I beautiful?”
“That question is inconsequential. Lord Fallen chose you, so obviously, he thinks you are.”
And suddenly, Asher found reason not to like the gentleman.
“But Lord Fallen is not here to compile this list,” she countered. “I have to know if your taste in women aligns.”
He felt as though he stood on a lake of thin ice. “Many think you are very attractive.”
“Many are not sitting at this table.” She grinned deviously. “Come now. I’ll have your answer. It is the only way to know if we’re on the right track.”
∫ ∫ ∫
1 3
Everly had never before witnessed a gentleman have such a great an inner struggle. It was clear on his face. Either he didn’t know the answer to his question or he didn’t wish to give the answer that came to mind.
Did he think her ugly?
If he did, Everly knew that she’d be hurt. Even though she’d never marry this man, she would enjoy knowing he thought her to have the power to stir his heart… and his blood.
Asher’s cool gaze stroked her face and lower before rising again. “I would put your name on the list.”
“Because you think I’m beautiful?” she asked, needing to hear the words for some silly reason.
He sighed in aggravation. “I would not kiss a woman I thought hideous.”
She smiled. “That will do.” She looked down at her list and bit her lip.
“Your cousin should go on the list,” he said.
Everly’s face fell, and she glanced up at him. “Who?”
“Lady Renner,” he said.
Everly shook her head. “Diana would never set out to steal diamonds.”
The Perfect Duke (Valiant Love) (A Regency Romance Book) Page 6
