by Jane Charles
Or could this be a grander more nefarious plan to trap him somehow?
“Oh, Mrs. Peade,” he called.
She turned. “Yes, Lord Kilsyth?”
“You are a woman.”
She frowned at him as if she wasn’t quite certain of his sanity.
“Join us. I’d have a female witness whatever discussion is about to take place.” As Henry had not done anything wrong, and didn’t intend on doing so, he was still a very wealthy earl, and a bachelor, and it wouldn’t do to have accusations made against his character without witnesses.
“Of course, Lord Kilsyth.”
Eve took in the dark library with the two walls of books, so high one needed a ladder to reach the second level which was high enough to be the second story of the home. It even had a small walkway at the level of where a ceiling should be if this was a normal room. A grand room indeed and smelled of leather and rich tobacco. A gentleman’s room where he escaped the difficulties of the day. Her father once had such a room where he spent most of his time when not with the horses. Outside of her own chambers, it had been Eve’s favorite room in the manor.
She was quite certain her eyes must be as large as saucers as she took in the magnificent room and the numerous books, but Eve couldn’t help herself. Oh, to have the leisure to read them all…Disheartened she looked to the floor. Her only reading came from old newssheets and who knew if she’d ever hold a book again.
Oh, if only Father were here now...Except he wasn’t. But if he were, she wouldn’t be in this predicament. Not that she understood why they were in the Earl of Kilsyth’s library because her brother wouldn’t explain, but her gut warned of a predicament. All she knew was that Brendan was here to make good on a debt.
Had her brother won at the tables last night and was going to pay the earl and then they’d be on their way?
“What’s this about, Doyle?”
Eve stiffened when the Earl of Kilsyth marched into the room. He was a formidable gentleman. Tall with dark wavy hair, intense grey eyes, and a finely formed frame. At least he filled out his clothing quite well. This was not what she expected at all. From what she’d overheard at the theatre, he was a tedious bore. Given the books, charts and maps about the room, she didn’t doubt the truthfulness of that rumor. Or perhaps he was simply an intellectual and Eve could understand why most actresses might find Kilsyth dreary. However, nobody had mentioned how handsome he was.
Even so, Kilsyth was still a daunting gentleman.
Behind him was another gentleman of a similar age, which Eve guessed at being nearly eight or seven and twenty. He stood as tall as Kilsyth but where the earl was dark, the other gentleman had light hair, but dark eyes that danced with humor in complete opposite to Kilsyth’s hard, cold ones. Following the pair, was an older, slight woman, with graying hair.
What was this all about? Her brother simply wished to make good on his debt and that did not require the presence of others.
“As I explained ta yer butler I’ve come ta see good on my debt.”
The earl turned on Eve and he studied her from head to toe.
Eve clutched her cloak tightly across her bosom as fear seeped into her bones.
“Brendan, what have ye done?” She edged closer to her brother now that the other gentleman studied her as Kilsyth had.
“Didn’t he tell you?” Kilsyth demanded.
Eve shook her head slowly, fearing exactly what her brother may have wagered. Eve hadn’t sold herself to keep a roof over their heads and she wasn’t about to do so now. Further, she’d not be intimidated. Just because she wasn’t from a titled family didn’t mean she’d not been respectable at one time, and no earl was going to look down his nose at her.
“You, Miss Doyle.”
Her heart sank at the simple declaration.
“Ye wagered me?” Eve demanded as she turned on her brother. “Yer own sister?”
“I wanted to win back my necklace.”
“Yer necklace?” she cried. “Ye mean my necklace. The one dat belonged to Mamaí dat came ta me dat ye stole from me hidin’ place?”
“It isn’t what ye think,” Brendan began, holding his hands out, as if hoping she’d understand.
“I’m not a trinket ta be bartered with or a horse ta be sold. I’ll not have it, Brendan.”
“It’s not what ye think, Eve. He’s yer new guardian.” Brendan pulled the papers from his inside pocket. “It’s all legal now. I lost ye in a game, and he won ye. It cannot be undone.”
“Where are your morals?” The light-haired gentleman demanded with disgust.
“Can’t afford to have ‘em,” Brendan responded sadly. “I’ve mucked everythin’ up, and I’m ready ta pay, but not my sister. She’s a good girl and I ask dat ye treat her right.”
This was a nightmare. Panic rose high enough to nearly close Eve’s throat and her mind scrambled for an explanation…She’d fallen asleep by the fireplace, waiting for her brother to return and this was nothing but a very bad dream brought on by the state of her worry and distress. In a moment, she’d waken and be in their lodgings.
“You wagered your sister and are now leaving her in the care of a gentleman you hadn’t met before last night?” The older woman asked in shock and dismay.
“Aya, and I ain’t ta proud ta be admittin’ it,” Brendan answered. “It’s the best for Eve. At least I know she’ll be safe.”
“Throw them out, Mrs. Peade,” Kilsyth ordered.
Thank goodness! Eve breathed a sigh of relief.
“Ye can’t,” Brendan argued. “It’s all right and legal. I’ve been ta the solicitor and have made the Earl of Kilsyth Eve’s guardian.”
“Let me see those damned documents.” Kilsyth yanked the papers from Brendan’s hand.
Oh, please let there be an error or something that would get her out of this situation since it apparently wasn’t a nightmare. At least not the kind that visited during slumber.
The longer he read, the more Kilsyth frowned, which didn’t bode well for Eve’s predicament.
“Well, at least she comes with ten thousand pounds.”
“Ten thousand pounds?” Did she still have part of her dowry?
“After I spent the first half, I wasn’t allowed access ta more. Father’s will stated that I might use some to clothe and care for Eve, but ten thousand must remain untouched for when she married.”
“What if I never marry?” Hope, for the first time in a year, fluttered in Eve’s breast
“Then it is yers when ye are three and twenty.”
Some of that hope deflated because Eve would need to learn how to get by for the next two years. But there was optimism that her future may not be as bleak and empty as she’d anticipated. Did that mean Cait also had her dowry, or was she even aware any was left? Not that it changed anything, but at least their sister would have security beyond the wages she earned as a teacher.
“By then, I hope dat ye’ll forgive me.”
Of course, by then she’d have funds that he’d probably come begging for if he hadn’t learned his lesson. Eve glared at him. Brendan had brought them both to this. He’d lost everything she’d ever known or had, save the dowry he couldn’t touch, and never would. “Ye’ll never get another farthin’ from me.”
“Have a heart, Eve.”
“I can’t afford ta, Brendan.” Just as he couldn’t afford to have morals, which made her fear what her exact purpose was to be in the Lord of Kilsyth’s home.
“Mrs. Peade, summon the footman and have Mr. Doyle removed.”
“Very well, Lord Kilsyth.”
“No need. I’ll see meself out.” With barely a look in her direction, Brendan shuffled from the library, his head down as he left Eve very much alone with these strangers.
The documents must be legal since Kilsyth wasn’t having her removed. What was she to do now?
Eve tried to think. She couldn’t remain here under any circumstances. “I’m sorry ta have been disturbin’ yer mornin’
. I’ll be goin’ now.” She edged toward the door.
“I don’t believe so, Miss Doyle,” Kilsyth countered. “Apparently, you now belong to me.”
Chapter 3
Henry studied Miss Doyle and decided that she’d do quite well for his purposes. This might be exactly what he needed. The challenge that was missing from his life. The hole that needed to be filled.
“Really, Lord Kilsyth, you can’t mean to keep her,” Mrs. Peade objected. “What of her family?”
His housekeeper did give him something to think on. “Miss Doyle, I assume your father is dead since your brother mentioned a will.”
“Aye.”
“As is your mother?”
“Aye.”
“What of any other siblings, uncles, aunts or grandparents?” Before he considered anything further, Henry needed to know that she was very much alone in this world since clearly there was little familial feeling from the brother who had wagered her, much to Henry’s disgust.
For a moment, Miss Doyle hesitated. Was there someone else or was she going to lie to him…“The truth, Miss Doyle. I can have you investigated.” She’d need to understand that they must be quite honest with one another or the circumstances they now found themselves in would never work.
“I’ve an older sister.”
“Where might this sister be?”
“Cornwall.”
“Is she married. Might her husband take you in?”
Her green eyes widened. “Nay. Cait’s a teacher and can’t have me about.”
Henry couldn’t imagine anyone hiring someone of Miss Doyle’s ilk to teach anything. “A teacher?”
“Aye. And lives at Wiggons’ School for Elegant Young Ladies so I can’t go ta her.”
Surely, she jests? Henry was familiar with the school, not personally but by reputation, and if this sister spoke as Miss Doyle, she’d not have been hired. “Are you telling me the truth?” There was a warning edge to his tone. “Are you certain she isn’t a scullery maid instead?”
“Aye. I swear.” She made an “X” over her heart.
We’ll he’d soon determine the truth of the matter as he’d write to Westbrook right away since his estate happened to be in the same vicinity as that particular school. But, as he wouldn’t have an answer for days, Henry supposed he was stuck with Miss Doyle.
Henry turned to his housekeeper. “Are you satisfied, Mrs. Peade?”
Most gentlemen of his rank, or any rank for that matter, wouldn’t tolerate a housekeeper questioning any decision, but Mrs. Peade was different and Henry came to value her opinion on many matters. In short, she was irreplaceable and why he not only asked her opinion on occasion, but tolerated her questioning his judgment as well.
“Yes, Lord Kilsyth,” she finally answered.
Yet, Henry could tell she did not approve. Well, there were often times that Mrs. Peade did not approve and they still got on.
“What is ta be me purpose?” Eve asked, her tone low.
Henry studied her. “You are to be my ward.”
Her green eyes met his. Miss Doyle was really a lovely miss with her blond hair and porcelain skin.
“Why are you in England, London for that matter, when you’re clearly from Cork?”
Her eyes widened further. “How do ye know where I’m from?”
“It’s announced with every syllable you utter and by the letters you ignore.”
Miss Doyle pulled back and frowned.
“Now, answer my question. Why aren’t you in Ireland where your speech is not offensive to the ear?”
“Come, come, Kilsyth. That is no way to speak to Miss Doyle,” Pickmore defended.
“She’s my ward. I’ll speak to her how I’d like.”
At that, Miss Doyle gasped. “I’ll not be treated poorly by the likes of ye.”
“You! Miss Doyle. The word is you not ye.”
“Yeeou,” she sneered at him.
Well, she had gumption, which was something he’d certainly enjoy.
“Now, Miss Doyle, would you please answer my question. Why are you in London?”
“We lost everythin’ in Ireland.”
In other words, he brother probably gambled it all away and fled across the ocean to save his neck. “How?”
Her eyes began to water and Henry tried to will the tears not to fall. The last thing he wanted or needed was a watering pot for a ward. However, to his surprise, Miss Doyle blinked quickly then wiped the corner with the back of her sleeve. Without a word, Henry pulled his handkerchief from his pocket. “For things that leak on the face.” He waved it in front of her. “Use this and not your sleeve.”
Eve snatched it from his fingers and wiped the other eye. “Thank ye.”
It was on the tip of his tongue to correct her speech, but bit back the words. If he spent the entire morning correcting each incorrectly spoken syllable, they’d be standing here until nightfall and his time would not be squandered.
“As in everything, what did your brother loose?”
“The estate, stable, horses,” she sighed. “Then he went and gambled the one thin’ I had left.”
Besides her person, Henry assumed it was that blasted necklace. We’ll if she sold it, to a reputable jewelry, Miss Doyle could be quite set, if she lived frugally, until her dowry became hers. However, Henry wasn’t about to let her walk out his door with that necklace. At least not until he learned more.
“Did you say stables,” Pickmore asked in surprise. “Doyle stud farm. The Doyle stud farm that has some of the finest racers from Ireland.”
“Had,” Miss Doyle corrected. “After Da died, Brendan took to wagerin’ and losin’.”
“What is wrong with betting on your own horse?” Pickmore asked.
“Ye do not make money from wagers. Ye make it from the purses and stud fees. Da would always place a small bet but never enough ta do any harm.”
“However, your brother wasn’t so cautious,” Pickmore guessed, empathy laced in his tone.
“Before we knew it, Brendan had lost horses, then the land. He thought to build the coffers with bets instead of lettin’ them grow all steady like. Instead, he drained them.” Miss Doyle wiped her eyes again. “With what he had left, we came here. He didn’t understand, or appreciate, the work required to manage a successful stable. He didn’t want ta do the work either. Nor does he now.”
Money quickly won at a table, or at the races, was often lost just as quickly in the same manner. It was no wonder that Miss Doyle was now nearly destitute. The father would have done better to leave the lot of his estate to his daughter. Not that it would have been allowed, of course.
“And your sister was able to find a position at a girls’ school.”
Miss Doyle nodded.
“Why not you?”
“I was to watch over Brendan, for what good it done me.”
“Ahhh.” Henry grinned. “I hear a little bit of Covent Garden in your speech as well.”
“It’s where I’ve been livin’.”
“What of your education?” For all of her father’s worth and the dowry originally left, Henry had a difficult time believing she wasn’t educated, yet her speech indicated she’d never spent time with any reputable instructor.
“Me sister and I had a governess and learned what we needed and more,” she answered proudly.
“An Irish governess?”
“English.”
That was even harder to believe. But, as he intended to have her fully investigated, Henry would soon have all of his answers.
“You are my ward, Miss Doyle, which now makes you my responsibility,” Henry offered kindly. “What do you propose that I do with you? What do you suppose will become of you at the end of my guardianship?” He frowned. “Exactly how long before you turn three and twenty?”
“Two years,” she answered. “One day I hoped ta become a governess.”
“Governess?” Henry barked with laughter.
“I’m not without an education,
” Eve defended as anger sparked in her green eyes.
Perhaps he shouldn’t have laughed, but he’d never been one to guard his reactions. “You’d prefer to be around spoiled and unappreciative misses when I can offer you more?”
“It’s the more that concerns me, Lord Kilsyth,” she answered honestly.
“Come, come, Miss Doyle, put such depraved thoughts from your mind.”
“A miss in my position can’t be ta careful.” The color in her cheeks deepened. “Is dat all I am ta be ta ye? Yer ward?”
“What else is there?”
With that question, she looked away. That’s when Henry realized what Miss Doyle must have feared.
“I assure you, Miss Doyle, your virtue is quite safe in this household.”
Her cheeks darkened further. At this rate, she’d be quite red before the discussion of her safety was concluded.
“Isn’t that right, Pickmore?”
“Yes, of course,” his friend assured her.
Not that Henry blamed Miss Doyle. She was in a precarious and vulnerable position. Her brother had just abandoned her to strangers. In her place, Henry would be quite concerned as well.
“Mrs. Peade, am I not a man of good character?”
“Usually, Lord Kilsyth,” she answered dryly. “But, please reconsider. Where will I put her?”
Henry couldn’t be bothered with such details right now. “There are rooms above. Pick one.”
“Servant or guest?”
“Guest chambers,” he answered. “She’s my ward and will become my student.”
“I learned all I need,” Miss Doyle claimed.
There was an admiring strength to the chit. Necessary for his intentions. “Yes, well what little education you did received served you poorly for your current life circumstances,” he reminded her since she was very much at his mercy. Not that he’d take advantage of the situation, of course. He had morals despite his reputation as having been one of the Devils of Dalston even if her brother couldn’t afford them.
“I’ll have a maid prepare her chambers,” Mrs. Peade practically glared at him as she quit the room.
