“Yes, I know that.” Poppy sank back into the chair. “But he holds a special place in my life, in my heart. I don’t want to see him go.”
“It’s for the best, dear.” Gwen leaned over and patted Poppy’s hand. “There really isn’t another way to get out of this. You heard Margaret—everyone is already talking about Everheart.”
“Can’t we just send him away?” Poppy said hopefully. “To a remote jungle or a far distant desert or, I know. On a quest for the North Pole.”
“I’m afraid it would be entirely too suspicious if he were to up and leave on some sort of heretofore unmentioned exploration.” Gwen shook her head.
“Far too many people know about him now,” Effie pointed out. “As long as he exists there exists, as well, the possibility he—we—will be found out. That’s not the sort of gossip that easily goes away. And when your husband next goes to the club...”
A chill ran up Poppy’s spine. She would prefer Malcolm never know of Reginald’s imaginary state.
“No, he needs to go permanently,” Gwen added. “And we need to make his demise as plausible as possible.”
“We promise to give him a hero’s death,” Effie said, the most inappropriate note of eagerness in her voice. “Something fearless and noble.”
“No!” It scarcely mattered what Poppy said. They had already made up their minds and there was little she could do to stop them.
“Don’t you think he’d rather leave this world in a daring display of courage and valor than simply fade away?” Effie shook her head in a mournful manner. “That would be dreadfully sad for a legendary hero like Reginald Everheart.”
“Regardless.” Poppy squared her shoulders and glared. “I don’t want him killed.”
Gwen and Effie traded glances.
“Fine.” Gwen sighed. “If you come up with something better, we’re willing to listen to it. But there is not much time. Today is Sunday and the banquet is on Friday.”
“Which means Everheart has to die by Wednesday,” Effie said firmly. “Thursday morning at the latest.”
“I’ll think of something not requiring death no later than Thursday morning then.” Her friends were right, there wasn’t much time. But Reginald had come to her aid when she’d needed him. The least she could do was be there for him now.
Regardless of whether he was real or not.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
WHEN SHE FINALLY did meet Reginald Everheart, it would take every bit of resolve Dulcie had to keep from throwing her arms around him and kissing him quite soundly on the cheek. Without his knowledge, he was proving a huge assistance in her campaign to make Michael realize he could not live without her.
She’d taken inspiration from the outrageous arrangement of roses Mr. Everheart had sent the day after Michael had joined her family for dinner. It was entirely too extravagant. But one look at the expression on Michael’s face when he had seen the flowers and she immediately knew the way to this man’s heart was a bit of competition coupled with her absolute agreement that he was right.
Not jealous indeed.
On Monday, a jolly little sculpture of an Aztec god had arrived along with several ancient coins depicting frolicking satyrs and nymphs all to be drawn for the program to accompany Mr. Everheart’s lecture. Michael was most disapproving. Indeed, his disposition had grown increasingly dour with every passing minute. Dulcie took it as an excellent sign. She had feared at the end of the day yesterday he might choose not to return today. But he did and that too was an excellent sign.
This morning when she arrived, there was an envelope on the table addressed to her. She recognized Mr. Everheart’s excellent penmanship immediately. Whatever this was, she was confident Michael wouldn’t like it. In spite of her curiosity, she waited until Michael opened the door to the library then casually slit open the envelope, pulled free a note and kept her gaze firmly fixed on it.
“Good day, Miss Middleworth,” he said from across the room.
She pretended not to hear.
He approached her table and cleared his throat. “Miss Middleworth?”
Dulcie looked up in feigned surprise. “Hmm? Oh, Mr. Shepard. My apologies. I did not hear you come in.”
“You were otherwise occupied.” He hesitated as if he wasn’t sure whether to say anything else or retreat. Or perhaps he was trying to recall the exact state of today’s weather. “Something important?”
“Important?” She rose to her feet and glanced at the note in her hand. “Why, yes, I suppose it is. Mr. Everheart has asked to accompany me to the banquet.”
“Without a chaperone?” Disapproval rang in his voice.
“Goodness, Mr. Shepard, I wouldn’t have thought you were so stuffy about such things.”
“Such things are for the protection of the reputation of the woman involved.”
“I’m certain my reputation is quite safe with Mr. Everheart. Especially as we will be attending with my parents.”
“Regardless, Miss Middleworth. Dulcie.” He huffed. “The man is not to be trusted.”
He’d called her Dulcie. She tried not to smile. “Nonsense.”
“I don’t think he’s who or what he claims to be.”
“Why on earth would you say something like that? He has a sterling reputation.”
Michael paused. “I have serious doubts as to his credentials.”
“I’ve never heard anything more ridiculous in my life.” She widened her eyes and stared. “Why, you really are jealous.”
“Hardly.” He scoffed. “I’m simply concerned about you. As I would be any friend.”
“Are we friends?” She considered him thoughtfully.
“Well, yes, I think so.” He looked decidedly uncomfortable. “Something of that nature.”
“What do you mean?” She circled the table to stand in front of him. “Something of that nature?”
“I simply mean...” The most amusing expression of unease washed across his face. “Blast it all, Dulcie, I’m not sure what I mean.”
She gazed up at him. “You’re not?”
“Apparently not but that’s not the matter at hand at the moment.” He huffed. “We were discussing Everheart and my concern about you and him.”
“Are you concerned?”
“Of course I am,” he said staunchly.
“Why?”
“Because I... Because we...”
“Yes?”
“Because...” A look of sheer panic shone in his eyes like a trapped animal or a lost soul. “I looked in his membership file,” he blurted.
That was certainly not what she expected. “Did you?”
He nodded. “I thought it necessary.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “That’s a bit beneath you, don’t you think? It strikes me as somewhat devious. Even, oh, I don’t know, dishonorable.”
“In this case—” he straightened his shoulders “—the ends completely justify the means.”
“The ends being my toes on the edge of yet another cliff?”
“Exactly.”
“So what did you find that has you so concerned?”
“What didn’t I find? Good Lord, Dulcie.” He shook his head. “According to his file, the man has discovered ancient tombs, fought his way out of the clutches of cannibals, survived for months alone on an island in the South Seas. He’s explored the jungles of the Amazon, traveled with nomads in the Sahara and climbed some of the tallest mountains in the alps. Why, I’m surprised he isn’t credited with discovering the Americas.”
“My, he is accomplished.”
“No, he’s not.” Michael glared. “What he is—” He glanced around the library. “Are we alone?”
“And you were worried about the impropriety of my being with Mr. Everhear
t.”
“This is not a joke, Dulcie, nor is it amusing.” He stepped closer and lowered his voice. “I very much fear Mr. Everheart is a fraud.”
Her mouth dropped open and she stared.
“I debated whether or not to tell you but I did think you should know.”
She wasn’t sure how to respond.
“Well, say something.”
She grinned. “You are jealous.”
“I am not,” he said sharply then paused. “Well, perhaps I am, I suppose.”
“Because we are friends or something of that nature?”
“Yes,” he said firmly.
“No.” She shook her head. “That simply isn’t good enough. I’m afraid I find something of that nature to be rather confusing. You’ll have to do better.”
“Better?” His brow furrowed. “What do you mean better? I admit something of that nature is perhaps confusing. But only because...” He ran his hand through his hair. “Damnation, Dulcie, I am confused.”
Her breath caught. “Oh?”
“I had my life entirely planned. I would spend it searching out the undiscovered wonders of the world never before seen. Follow my uncle’s path and succeed where he did not. I would walk in the footsteps of long dead civilizations and bring the past to life. I would discover places man never imagined existed. What I didn’t plan was...”
“Something of that nature?”
“Exactly.” His gaze met hers. “What I didn’t plan was you.”
“I see.” She chose her words with care. “It seems to me, even when we have the best of plans, life itself does not always cooperate.”
“Nonetheless—”
“Do you have feelings of affection for me?”
“Dulcie...” Longing mixed with regret in his gray eyes.
“Come now, Michael.” Impatience sounded in her voice. Past time for the man to step up and admit his feelings. “This is not a difficult question. Do you or do you not care for me?”
“Yes,” he snapped. “Bloody hell, Dulcie, I love you. There now—are you happy?”
“I don’t think—”
“And it’s because I love you that I will not subject you to a life alone. A life of not knowing when or if I would return to you. It’s not right. It’s not the kind of thing—”
“Oh, for God’s sake, Michael.” Without thinking, Dulcie grabbed the lapels of his coat with both hands, pulled him close and pressed her lips hard against his. Exactly what she’d wanted to do for the last three months. Shock froze him in place for an endless moment. Or forever. Had she just made a horrible mistake? Then his arms wrapped around her and he pulled her tight against him.
Her chest flattened against his and she could feel the pounding of his heart echoing her own. She clung to him with a hunger that took her breath away. His arms tightened around her, embraced her. Enfolded her. A sense of complete and utter surrender swept through her. Powerful and terrifying and quite, quite wonderful.
This man had claimed her heart and she lost herself in the heat of him, the spicy clean scent of him, the feel of his hard body against hers. Her knees weakened with desire and her head spun with the sure and certain knowledge that he was her fate, her destiny. For now and forever.
Without warning the most awful sense of realization swept through her. Her soul twisted. She stilled then released her grip on his coat and stepped back unsteadily.
Michael had the dazed appearance of a man who had just been struck by lightning or worse. He adjusted his spectacles. “That was...”
“A mistake,” she said quickly. “Yes, I know.” Before he’d taken her in his arms and her lips had met his, before she had reveled in the scent and the feel and nearness of him, she’d thought his resolve not to marry was ridiculous. Now, it made all the sense in the world. “That’s what you were going to say isn’t it?”
“Um, well, yes. Something like that, I suppose.” He shook his head as if to clear it. “I should apologize for taking such liberties.”
“Nonsense, Michael, it was entirely my fault.” She summoned a pleasant smile and hoped her face wouldn’t crack from the effort.
His gaze locked with hers. “But I can’t.”
Because he would do it again. As would I. Her chest tightened.
“Even so, we shall pretend it never happened.” Her throat burned with an ache so intense it threatened to rip her apart.
He blew a long breath. “Very well.”
“Didn’t you mention an appointment?” It was all she could do not to turn and flee but she wasn’t entirely sure she could move. “You would hate to be late.”
He stared at her for a long moment then nodded slowly. “Yes, perhaps I do need to be on my way.”
Dulcie couldn’t seem to do anything more than nod, afraid of what might happen if she tried to speak.
“Good day, Miss Middleworth.” He turned and strode across the room, grabbing his hat off his table as he passed.
“Farewell, Mr. Shepard,” she whispered.
The moment the door closed behind him, her resolve failed. She sagged against the table and slowly sank to the floor, her wide skirts collapsing around her. Tears fogged her eyes and the most horrible feeling of loss and despair curled within her. She had just sent the love of her life away probably forever because she knew with a blinding clarity he was right. And there was no other choice.
It struck with the force of an undeniable truth. Now she understood how very hard it would be to watch him go off to places unknown. Not knowing if he would ever return. If he would perish somewhere far away from her and she would never know where or how. How could she ever bear to let him go? But how could she ask him to stay? To give up his dreams, give up the life he had planned, the life he wanted. He would grow to hate her for the opportunity he had lost. That would be worse than losing him to the world he was so eager to explore.
She had no illusions about herself. It would take someone with a great deal of strength to live that way. Someone with far more courage than she. She’d accused Michael of being a coward when it came to matters of the heart. At least he had the courage to accept the truth.
And the true coward here was Dulcie Middleworth.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“MY GOODNESS, MR. SHEPARD.” Poppy gasped. Mr. Shepard had come out of the library as if the hounds of hell were at his heels. “Is something amiss? You nearly ran me over.”
Mr. Shepard stared at her for a moment as if he couldn’t quite place her, then shook his head. “My apologies, Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore. I had something on my mind.”
“I can see that.” She studied him closely. He had the look of a man who had just lost something dear to him. Or had his heart shattered. “Is it something you wish to talk about? I can be a very good listener.”
“Thank you but no.” He managed a weak smile. “I should be on my way. Good day.” He turned to go.
Poppy started toward the library. If Mr. Shepard looked like this, she was very much afraid what Dulcie might look like. She was to receive Reginald’s invitation today but jealousy made a man appear angry not forlorn. Poppy did hope—
“Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore?”
She turned. “Yes, Mr. Shepard?”
“Miss Middleworth received a note from Mr. Everheart today asking if he could escort her to Friday’s banquet. It’s not at all improper,” he added quickly. “Her parents will be present.”
“How wonderful.” Poppy beamed. She wasn’t at all sure this was wise but poor Mr. Shepard was so very upset and no doubt susceptible to suggestion. And there wasn’t much time left if they were to do Reginald in no later than the day after tomorrow. In the morning. “It’s always a good sign when a man wants to meet a girl’s parents.”
Mr. Shepard stared. “Surely you don’t mean...”
<
br /> “I mean there’s every possibility he wants to ask for her hand.” Poppy paused. She usually wasn’t at all good at deception but this was rather fun. “He could have already spoken to her father by now.”
“But he doesn’t even know her.” Disbelief sounded in Mr. Shepard’s voice. “They haven’t met. He hasn’t even seen her.”
“Not as far as we know.”
“But—”
“Come now, Mr. Shepard, I know any number of people who had barely met each other before they were wed. And most of them have managed quite nicely.”
“I’ve met Lord Middleworth and he does not strike me as the kind of man to blithely hand over his daughter to a virtual stranger. I thought he was quite level-headed and sensible.”
“Oh dear, Mr. Shepard.” She cast him a pitying look. “You really have no idea how these things work.” She glanced from side to side as if making certain no one could hear them, then leaned closer in a confidential manner. “Dulcie was not invited to Lady Scarsdale’s grand ball.”
It was obvious from the blank look on Mr. Shepard’s face that he had absolutely no idea of the significance of Dulcie’s snub.
“The Scarsdale ball is the unofficial start of the season. An invitation is crucial for any young lady who is hoping for a good match. That Dulcie was not invited signals to society that she is now firmly on the shelf and doomed to a life of spinsterhood.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“I agree but that’s the way things are.” It was time for the final thrust of the sword. “And as Lord Middleworth is a sensible man, I can’t imagine he would refuse Mr. Everheart permission to marry his daughter.”
“But—” Horror shone in Mr. Shepard eyes. “The man’s a fraud.”
Poppy stared. “A what?”
“He’s not what he says he is.” Mr. Shepard lowered his voice. “I know you and your friends are acquainted with him and I hate to be the one to tell you about this, but I looked in his membership files. The man couldn’t possibly have accomplished half of what it says he’s done.”
“Oh, those silly files.” Poppy waved off his comment and ignored a distinct sense of panic. Good Lord, what did Gwen and Effie put in that file? “They are more often than not extremely overblown. Why, you should see my husband’s files. I daresay they are every bit as exaggerated.”
The Rise and Fall of Reginald Everheart Page 10
