Curse of the Mayfair Mummy (Wiggons’ School #4) (Wiggons’ School for Elegant Young Ladies)
Page 11
“Yes!” Sophia was emphatic.
“Why would my mother write of them if they weren’t real?” Rosemary took a seat beside Eliza.
“Your mother wrote what she copied from a wall.” Rosemary had read the journals just as Sophia and at no time did Mrs. Fairview indicate that she believed the curses were real.
“I’m not so certain, which is why we need to learn everything we can to protect us,” Eliza insisted.
Sophia rolled her eyes. “And how do we go about doing that?” It’s not like there was a book that explained how one protected themselves from a mummy’s curse.
“I’m not sure you can,” Rosemary insisted. “The only way to avoid a mummy curse is not to encounter the mummy.”
Eliza frowned. “What if he was returned to this tomb? Would the curse be lifted then?”
“Perhaps,” Rosemary shrugged.
“Fine. If the mummy shows up here, we’ll arrange for his return to Egypt then we’ll all be safe.” At that Sophia exited the room. She would not be caught up in their concerns and plans for the mummy or it’s curse when it was not likely to make an appearance in Cornwall, or at least not at the Wiggons’ School for Elegant Young Ladies and she had no intention of humoring her friends further.
Mayfair, London
“I say, Miss Doyle, that was a most enjoyable and profitable afternoon,” Pickmore exclaimed as they entered the townhouse. “I only lost one of my bets.” He grinned.
“I’m happy for you, Captain Pickmore,” Eve answered, but she lacked the same enthusiasm, much to Henry’s surprise. They’d had a nice afternoon, and despite the company his mother kept and those who sat with him in her box, Ascot had been pleasant, with the exception of Eve’s shift in mood as the day grew long. She’d been happy this morning, now it was as if she’d succumbed to doldrums or the like.
This was what Eve had wanted so why wasn’t she happy?
Blasted women! Would he ever understand the workings of their minds?
“I daresay the presence of Miss Doyle certainly caused a good deal of speculation,” Pickmore continued as they entered the library and he crossed to the sideboard. “Without even hearing her say a word, it was obvious that the ladies were all atwitter behind their fans wondering who accompanied us today.”
That had been Henry’s plan. And though he didn’t want Eve to speak because she’d not rid herself of her Irish dialect yet, her silence had only intrigued the ton all the more. It was unintended but fit into his plans perfectly. However, if Eve did not improve in the next fortnight, in time for his mother’s ball, Henry wasn’t certain what he’d do when she was presented. It wasn’t as if he could ask her to remain silent again. It was fine for today but nobody would believe her voice hadn’t returned after so long.
He shook the thoughts away. They had two weeks and already Eve had made improvement. If they continued to work hard, he was certain nobody would guess where she came from by the time she entered the ballroom.
“And, just as I promised, half of my winnings.” Pickmore pulled a purse from his pocket and counted out pounds to Eve.
“That is not necessary, Captain Pickmore. It was your money to win or lose.”
“But you are the one who chose the horses. I might have lost everything if left to my own devises.”
At that Eve laughed, though it was more of a chuckle, with little enthusiasm, yet it warmed Henry’s blood. Oh, he couldn’t wait to be done with the lessons so that he might distance himself from her.
“There you go, Miss Doyle, sixty pounds.”
Pickmore had done well even though he’d been careful in his wagers.
“Thank you.” Eve clutched the pounds in a tight fist, not that Henry could blame her. She’d been near starving when she and her brother first arrived here. She probably hadn’t seen so much money in months.
A most beautiful and intriguing woman and Mr. Francis Hilliard wasn’t the only one quite taken with her. Not a day passed that he didn’t want to forget everything, her studies, his plans, and take her in his arms and kiss her quite thoroughly.
That would never do of course, and despite his reputation as being one of the Devils of Dalston, Henry would not compromise her.
Perhaps it would be better if Eve was living with his mother, and once the ball was over, it was likely that Henry might put her in his mother’s care so that he did not give into temptation to taste her lips.
“Kilsyth?”
He blinked and looked to Pickmore.
“I’ve never known you to woolgather,” his friend laughed. “I asked you twice if you’d like a brandy, but you stared off into space.
“My apologies.” Eve was now beginning to affect his mind at the most inopportune times. “Yes. Please.”
“If you don’t mind, Lord Kilsyth, I’d like to rest now.”
Henry frowned. Eve did not rest. At least she hadn’t since she’d come to his home. “Is all well, Miss Doyle?”
“I’m simply tired is all,” she explained. “We’ve studied day in and out since I arrived and today was rather trying.”
“Trying? You weren’t even forced to participate in inane conversations?”
Her nostrils flared and lips pursed for a moment. “Ye try spendin’ a day with others and not speakin’ a word. Holdin’ me tongue and rememberin’ not ta speak was tryin’ and frankly has brought on a headache.”
He supposed that would be difficult. Though he often sat without speaking a word. “You did not enjoy the races? It’s what you bargained for?” Henry argued.
Pain flashed in her eyes before she turned away. “It wasn’t as I remembered.”
What the bloody hell did that mean? “Take your rest, Miss Doyle. We’ll continue your lessons tomorrow.”
Henry’s gut tightened as he watched her glide from the room. It was all he could do not to go after her and demand what was really at issue. It wasn’t just a headache but something more, yet he couldn’t fathom why she’d sunk into a depressive state. And what the blazes did she mean that it wasn’t like before.
Bloody hell! Eve was upset and he had no idea why. And not just upset, but sad. Had this all been too much for her? He could be rather demanding in his teachings, but she’d not complained.
He paused and turned back to the room, accepted the glass of brandy from Pickmore and wandered to his desk.
She had complained, but he’d gotten around her. Of course it was easy since he’d dangled her necklace as a prize to be won. He’d give her that bloody necklace now if he thought it would return a smile to those bow lips, but Henry had a sinking suspicion that not even that would bring light to her eyes and he was at a loss as to understand what the blazes was wrong with her.
Eve fought the tears until she gained her chamber. Once the door was closed, she threw herself on the bed and finally allowed herself to cry, which quickly turned into sobs, as she’d been fighting the emotions all afternoon. They weren’t because she had to remain silent, or that she suffered from a very real headache, but for her losses.
It was her father who had taken her to Ascot that one time, and oh how she had enjoyed watching their horses race. That day had been nearly perfect and she couldn’t wait to return. Except, the next year he was gone. Within a few years, everything was gone.
What she hadn’t expected was for today to turn out to be so difficult. She’d been looking so forward to a day at Ascot but when the memories flooded her of an earlier, happier time, she’d been grateful that she didn’t have to speak, as it took everything she possessed not to cry as loneliness engulfed her. Brendan was lost to her and maybe even to himself and Cait was too far away to visit.
Her sister may have a position teaching, but how often was she lonely? Did she miss Eve as much as Eve missed her? Did she miss their home in Ireland—miss what once was? Or, had Cait managed to make new friends and find happiness on her own?
If possible, Eve would give up now and leave Kilsyth’s home and go to Cornwall. Except, she’d made a promise that she’d re
main for the month, learn all of his lessons, and in the end the necklace would be hers. Only then would Eve be able to walk out the door and make her own way.
At least she now had sixty pounds to make the journey easier and if she were frugal, perhaps she could make it last until she found a position.
Eve had told Kilsyth that she wished to be a governess, but who would hire her without experience or references? She couldn’t go back to the theatre either. Eve wanted more for herself and one day thought there would be. Oh the grand dreams she had when she was younger were only dust now and she must form other dreams.
Maybe she could become a teacher like Cait. Maybe they could work at the same school, then they’d never be parted. They could grow old together, if neither of them married, of course.
Marriage, while it offered security, Eve did not see herself becoming a wife. Of course, she’d never been granted the opportunity to be courted because by the time she came of age, the family was already destitute and the neighboring bachelors in Cork wanted nothing to do with her brother, or their family, and had assumed, as everyone else, that there’d be no dowry. Once they came to England, so Brendan could escape the creditors, she’d been too busy working so that they could pay rent and put food on the table. Besides, she didn’t want to be the wife of someone as poor as she. Though if she’d found love, it wouldn’t have mattered, and she would have worked alongside her husband, but she’d not put herself in the same situation just so she’d have the security of a home and husband.
In fact, the only time she’d been able to rest in the last few years was when Kilsyth became her guardian. But all she was to Kilsyth was a student and ward. Someone to win a wager, help with his correspondence and pick up after him. It would be so easy to remain here until she reached her majority, but she feared her heartache would only deepen at the end of the two years. Not only would she long for her family, but she’d no longer have Kilsyth either.
While her guardian could be dictatorial in his instructions and what he expected from her, he didn’t condescend or treat Eve less than she was—a daughter of a wealthy, landed gentleman. And even though it seemed as if he corrected her speech at every turn, their conversations were often enjoyable, even when they disagreed. They’d debated politics, philosophy and even history, seeing moments and events through different eyes and different circumstances and even though Kilsyth often didn’t agree, he had listened to what she had to say. Truly listened to her and thought over her argument instead of simply dismissing her out of hand. He showed her respect, something she’d not experienced in a very long time.
He might irritate her to no end at times, but there were many traits she also admired and her feelings where her guardian was concerned were often in conflict. And, it wasn’t just irritation and admiration, but a myriad of emotions. One of them being caring. As each day passed and Eve came to know Kilsyth, more fondness developed, and now she was in great danger of her heart becoming engaged. That’s what she must protect the most. He was her guardian, an English earl, and she was the daughter of a landed gentlemen who had owned a stud farm in Ireland. Eve was not for Kilsyth and such a lord did not marry the likes of her, which was the very reason that she must leave as soon as the month was over. To remain any longer would only lead to Eve falling in love with her guardian. She’d already lost so much already, and she couldn’t afford to lose her heart as well.
In the meantime, it was better to focus her mind on Pickmore. He promised to be a great friend and there was no chance that she’d come to love him, unlike the threat Kilsyth posed.
Chapter 11
“Mrs. Peade,” Henry yelled from the library. Where the blazes were his slippers or the post, but more importantly, where the blazes was Eve?
“Yes, Lord Kilsyth,” his housekeeper answered as she stepped into the library. “Is anything wrong?”
Several things, he wished to bark, but it wasn’t Mrs. Peade’s fault that the library was a mess and he couldn’t find anything. After all, it was the one room that she did not clean and never had nor any of the maids with the exception of an occasional dusting, and he preferred it that way. “Where might Miss Doyle be this morning?”
“She asked that a tray be delivered to her room.”
Instantly his irritation dimmed. Eve had retired early last evening, as soon as they returned from Ascot, claiming to suffer from a headache. “Is she unwell?” Henry demanded, not used to the panic that rippled just beneath the surface. “Do I need to send for a physician?”
Mrs. Peade blinked at him. “I believe she just wished to rest after a trying day, Lord Kilsyth.”
“Rest?” They didn’t have time to rest. “There is work to be done.” The ball was only a few weeks away, and well, he wished to see her. Only to assure himself of her health, of course.
“I’ll see what’s keeping her, Lord Kilsyth,” Mrs. Peade finally offered.
Had he pushed Eve too much? They did work from early morning, except for today of course, and into the evening, except for last night. She studied hard and even though she’d yet to rid herself of her Irish accent, she’d made improvement, unless she became overwrought as she’d done when they returned from Ascot. Further, she’d become invaluable to him in his other work and in keeping him organized.
Yet, she’d been quite pale yesterday, after they’d returned, and it was as if a bit of life had disappeared from her eyes.
Why hadn’t he noticed right away? Why did it take her mentioning a headache for him to see beyond her beauty what she may have been trying to hide?
Bloody hell. He hadn’t noticed because he tried not to look at her. Henry had found that his concentration was better when he wasn’t looking too closely at his ward because when he did, it became a study of her beauty, and watching the mood shifts within her green eyes, the quirk at the corner of her rosebud mouth when humored, or the “V” between her eyebrows when vexed with him.
For those very reasons, and the desire to constantly kiss her and come to know Eve in a manner no guardian should, he had decided that after the ball, she’d need to go live with his mother. After yesterday, and the way his mother had watched Eve with concern, Henry was certain that she’d take the ward into her home. If for no other reason, so that Eve wasn’t forced to live with her disreputable son.
Society thought him a rake, a reputation he needed to rid himself of, yet the actresses thought him boorish. Henry wasn’t even certain who he was any longer and having Eve in his household left him even more confused than before. She brought out all manner of personality traits and emotions, but the strongest were desire for his ward and a deep caring for another human being to the likes he’d never experienced.
“Good morning, Miss Doyle,” Pickmore greeted Eve from the foyer. “You look quite dashing this morning and I must say, that light green is very becoming on you.”
Henry nearly groaned. The pale green morning gown was quite fetching on Eve. The color not only deepened the green of her eyes, but her cheeks always appeared rosier, along with her lips. The very lips he wished to kiss.
“Thank you, Captain Pickmore.”
Henry quickly straightened as the two entered.
“I trust you slept well, Miss Doyle, and that you’ve recovered from your headache?”
Eve stiffened and pursed her lips. “Yes. Thank you.”
“Well, good then. We can continue our lessons.” He cleared his throat and took a seat behind his desk.
“As you wish.”
She was certainly formal this morning. Yet, it was his tone that had been unpleasant at first, not hers.
He didn’t mean to sound so irritated, but she had worried him.
When was the last time he’d worried such about another?
Oh yes, when he’d been woken early by his butler and thought his mother had taken ill. Instead, he had gained a beautiful ward.
“First, however, where might my correspondence be?”
Eve sucked in a breath then picked up a stac
k of missives at the corner of his desk and handed them over. As Henry reached, their fingers touched, and an almost electric current shot through his hand--an odd tingling that made him want to touch more of her. Yet, apparently he’d been the only one affected, as it had been in the past, as Eve simply drew her hand back and grasped her skirt.
He might be fighting an increasingly uncomfortable attraction and desire but she most certainly was not, unfortunately. “I understand you’ve broken your fast,” he tried to make polite conversation.
“Yes. I have.”
“Good, we don’t want to waste any further time this morning.” He quickly glanced through the documents, all invitations, and then he saw a few missives for his friend. “Pickmore, these are for you.”
“Ah, thank you, Kilsyth.” He came forward and took what appeared to be invitations and settled across the room onto a settee.
“Your tea, Captain Pickmore,” Mrs. Peade announced as she entered followed by two footmen, each carrying a laden tray. “I’ve also brought coffee, Lord Kilsyth.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Peade.”
She gave a quick nod and exited the room.
“I’ll pour.” Eve stepped forward and first poured a cup of coffee for Henry, then a cup of tea for Pickmore before preparing one for herself.
“I daresay, Kilsyth, I thought you said that your mother’s ball was over a week away.”
“It is,” Henry answered dismissively as he gathered the documents he wished for Eve to read from today.
“Perhaps you should review your invitation again.”
He glanced up. “Why?”
“It’s to be held in two days’ time.”
Alarm shot through him and Henry stood, strode across the library and took the invitation from Pickmore.
“I’d mentioned that I’d not received an invitation to her yesterday,” Pickmore chuckled. “She had sent them out before she knew I’d returned.”
Bloody hell! “Two days! We can’t be ready in two days.”