“S-Scotland?”
“Yes. The house is fully staffed. Mary can accompany you—she has done it before—and my man will meet you in Edinburgh. If you take the night train, your chances of being spotted are small indeed.”
“If my husband finds out...”
“He shall not find out. You aren’t the first woman to want to escape a brute like him.”
Eleanor’s eyes widened. “There are others?”
“One other woman.” Evan would not reveal who to Eleanor. He still didn’t know if she could be fully trusted and as far as he knew, Mrs Davenport’s husband was still searching for her. He was unwilling to risk any rumour of Mrs Davenport’s whereabouts reaching him. “Eleanor, if you decide to do this, no one must know. It could put you and the other woman in danger and I shall not be able to help anyone if it is found out what I have done.”
“I understand,” she said breathily.
Evan was not sure she did fully. If it was known he had stolen away a man’s wife, none would let him near their wives again. His close friends abhorred violent behaviour, but in spite of their pressure on parliament to take firmer action against violent husbands, no solution had been found. At the age of eight he had been unable to protect his mother, but he could not stand by and let more women fall victim to violence.
He smirked inwardly. What would Lilly think of his actions? Would they raise him up in her esteem? Perhaps, but he could not breathe a word of it even to her. These secrets were not his to tell, and he had yet to decide if she could be fully trusted.
“When can you get away?” he asked.
“My husband goes away to France in two weeks. I could leave easily then.” She darted her gaze about the drawing room as if her husband might pop out from behind the heavy velvet curtains. “I should return. The servants watch me constantly. I was meant to be calling on Lady Sherbourne, but she and my maid have given their word they shall not say a thing about the matter. They don’t know I was coming to you, only that it was to do with my husband.”
He drew in a heavy breath. The fewer people who knew about his involvement the better, but he understood why Eleanor had come to him in such a hasty manner.
“Shall you be safe in the meantime?”
“I should think so. He usually leaves me alone for a while after a—” She pressed a gloved hand to her lips.
Evan cursed his powerlessness. If it were up to him, he would see the men lashed and put away for longer. But unfortunately the law seldom saw the high ranking men punished and even if they were put away or fined, it only harmed those who relied on them for financial support—their wives.
He pinched the bridge of his nose. Some days, he saw no way to help these women. There were too many cases like this—usually amongst the lower classes who had not been brought up to treat women properly. Lord Whitley, a magistrate and good friend, had informed him the cases were becoming more frequent. He saw twelve such cases the previous month.
Forcing a smile, he waited until Eleanor rose and followed suit.
“How shall I send word?” she asked.
“Can you send letters?”
“Yes.”
“I shall likely be returning to Oxfordshire shortly.” Amusing how the idea of seeing Lilly’s bright eyes and beautiful smile warmed him and banished all his grim fears briefly. “Send word of the date and I shall begin to make arrangements. Have your maid bring the letter here and Higgins shall see it sent on.”
“I cannot thank you enough.”
“I’m only doing what any decent gentleman would do.”
Eleanor’s eyes grew misty. “No, my lord, few would do as you have. You are a brave man. You have put your life on the line for women like me. It is an admirable trait indeed.”
Evan compressed his lips. If she knew what his true nature was like—that he f0ught to control his temper on a daily basis, that he feared one day it would snap and he would lash out at the nearest person to him—perhaps his wife or even his mistress—she would not think him so brave.
“Send word and ensure your maid understands the need for secrecy.”
“I shall.” Eleanor offered him a wobbly smile and dipped. “Good day to you, my lord, and God bless.”
“Take care of yourself, Eleanor.”
She nodded and hastened out of the room. He waited until he heard the door shut before slumping onto the chaise. He glanced at Mary and nodded at her smile of understanding. “Tell Higgins to have word sent to the estate. They are to expect another visitor in two weeks. I shall apprise them of the specifics soon enough.”
“Of course, my lord.” Mary stood and paused in the doorway when he called her name. “And tell Higgins to hire someone to keep a close eye on Eleanor. It seems her husband’s behaviour is growing erratic. I noticed as much when I met him in White’s. If we find a thug who doesn’t mind getting his hands dirty if the moment calls for it, we can be assured of her safety.”
“A fine idea, my lord.”
“And get me a brandy. I have a headache coming on.”
Mary’s lips twitched, but she made no comment on his gruff command. Thankfully his staff were well used to his manner and even seemed to view him with some kind of amusement. It reminded him of Lilly. How her lips curled and her eyes glittered when he was in the worst of moods. And of course, sometimes, she would rise to the challenge and use that barbed tongue of hers to lash out at him and put him in his place. How many other women had been bold enough to talk to him so?
None, as far as he could recall. It had to be her pampered and secluded upbringing that had done it. A life lived away from society likely meant she was used to speaking her mind. A pity really. She would never fit in with the upper crust in London.
Mary entered and handed him a brandy before leaving wordlessly. She knew better than to engage him when in a rotten mood. He eyed the amber liquid and swirled it around the crystal glass.
Not that he ever intended to bring Lilly here of course. Mistresses were kept in the country for a reason. What a shame she was not of better birth. He could see a woman like her doing well as his wife. He sipped the brandy and relished the burn in his throat and the warmth coursing into his muscles with a grim smile. That was if he ever got around to finding one. The little voice that told him it was a disaster waiting to happen refused to be quashed. What if, after choosing a wife and settling down, his true nature revealed itself? What if his father’s predisposition to be violent to women ran through his blood too? Sometimes, he suspected he would be better off alone. His brother would inherit when Evan died and, though the man could be a cad, he was no wife beater.
Perhaps he was better off forgetting marriage altogether. Women in general were too great a risk. The thought didn’t stop his stomach from dropping when he considered what awaited him once Lilly moved on. Nothing. Loneliness.
Evan downed the brandy and rang the bell for another.
***
The familiar scent of cigars, wood and brandy filled Evan’s senses as he stepped into Wellington’s—his preferred club in London. Quieter than White’s or Boodle’s, the peaceful setting and non-political allegiance appealed to him.
His brother lifted a glass in greeting and Evan headed directly to his spot by the large bay window. Taking a seat opposite Thomas, he settled himself back against the green leather and peered around. He nodded to Bradley and Smith and noted a few new faces—young, arrogant-looking fellows who made him feel distinctly old and grumpy.
“I was surprised to hear you were in London, Evan,” Thomas said, his words muffled around a cigar as he fought to light it.
“Why? You knew I intended to come back after our time in Hampshire.”
“Yes, but you had your emergency to deal with.” Thomas grinned and wagged his brows. “If I had that kind of emergency waiting for me, I wouldn’t be here on my own, that’s for certain.”
“I had to meet with my banker.” A waiter brought over a brandy, and Evan wrapped his hand around it as he murmu
red his thanks.
“You would not be gambling away all Father’s fortune, would you?”
“Hardly. One failed speculation means little. I have profited aplenty this year.”
“Well, you shall need it if you’re going to be funding that mistress of yours.”
Evan pressed a breath through his nostrils and shifted his gaze to the intricate wood panelling behind his brother’s head. Thomas only spoke out of jealousy, but the man insisted on doing his best to rile him. Would his brother ever grow up? He loved Thomas as much as any brother could with their age gap but his immature behaviour never failed to grieve him. Even a foolish marriage had not made his brother see sense. He greatly feared one day his brother would do something beyond foolish and Evan would be left to pick up the pieces—just as he had with his father.
“I still cannot believe you did not give me a shot at Miss Claremont,” Thomas said, drawing Evan’s attention back to him. “Not very sporting of you, Evan.”
“She would not have had you.”
“Yet she accepted you? I cannot fathom it. You spent half our time at Oakholm eyeing each other as if you loathed one another.”
“Clearly, Thomas, I have charms that even you cannot understand. Perhaps Miss Claremont recognised as much. Her head wouldn’t be turned by a married man with a penchant for questionable behaviour.”
“Oh, come now, I have been very well behaved recently. I rarely gamble and I haven’t frequented a brothel in several months. Though after losing out on Miss Claremont, I’ve been sorely tempted...”
“Forget Miss Claremont,” Evan said through gritted teeth.
“You are very possessive over her.” Thomas leaned against the table and took a long draw of his cigar. Smoke swirled in the air, dancing amongst the light streaming in through the window. “And here I thought no woman could interest you. You’ve seldom shown preference for any particular woman and now there are two.”
Evan straightened at this. “Two? Whatever do you mean?”
“I hear you have been seen with a very respectable lady since coming to London.”
“Who told you this?”
Thomas’s brows knitted. “Who knows? I was a little tipsy. One too many gins. But it was said the wife of an important man was seen leaving your house only two days ago. Bit quick, Evan, seeing as you’d only just returned from the lovely Miss Claremont’s arms.”
“Damnation.” He gripped his glass until the crystal dug into his palms. “Did anyone name the woman?”
“No. It was probably servant’s gossip and you know how they are. One can never quite understand who or what they are talking about. But, I must say, it is unfair on Miss Claremont. I am sure you have offered her no promises but, damn, you only have her for a year. Could you not remain faithful to her for so short a time?”
Scowling, Evan eyed his brother. Thomas lecturing him on how to treat a woman? His brother really must have been quite taken with Lilly to be counselling him on staying faithful to his mistress. As it was, he had no intention of straying into the arms of any other woman. If he was to burn though this attraction, he needed to devote any spare time he had to indulging in his desires with her. Maybe then he would be free of the frustrating distraction that was Lilly.
But his biggest concern was that someone had spotted Eleanor leaving his house. Would that put her in danger? Higgins had already dredged up a man to keep an eye on her. He was a brutish sort who would step in if needs be but there was only so much one could do when on the outside. Evan prayed she would remain safe until the chance came for him to help her escape her husband.
Chapter Fourteen
Lilly waited until the entire household was asleep. It wasn’t all that late—a little grey light still seeped through the windows so she didn’t need a candle to tiptoe out of bed and downstairs to the study. For the entire week, she had been trying to figure out a way to sneak into the locked room. After pressing the servants for information, it seemed Mrs Hargreaves was the only one with a key to Evan’s study and she guarded it carefully.
The woman treated Lilly well and deferred to her for household decisions now, but there was a caution to her behaviour with Lilly. She didn’t blame her. After all, she was unknown and a mistress. Neither of those qualities endeared her to the woman but Lilly hoped with time they would overcome that.
She cradled the key in one hand and eased open the bedroom door. Shadows haunted the passageway. Swaying trees outside cast eerie patterns through the window. Lilly’s mouth dried and her heart jolted. Perhaps she should forget this folly and return to bed?
But what if proof of Evan’s dealings with her father were in that study? Doubt lingered in the back of her mind. He had said nothing of pressuring the police to look into her father’s death, and she needed to know for certain—to have solid proof of his innocence. A steady ache of loneliness had consumed her this past week, all because of that frustrating man. It seemed foolish to even consider he might still be guilty of contracting a killer, but her common sense warned her not to be fooled.
The carpet gave way under her toes and a slight breeze tickled her legs under her chemise as she scurried along the passageway and down the stairs. The study sat at the rear of the cottage, overlooking the pretty country garden. Making her way through the drawing room, she barely stifled a cry when she stubbed her bare toe on a chair leg. Lilly paused and listened, but only the hooting of an owl and a tick of the grandfather clock accompanied her. The household remained asleep.
Hopefully no one would awake and believe her to be an intruder. Who knew what might happen or how Evan would react if he found out she had been looking at his personal papers.
Lilly came to the door of the study and paused, hands to the wood. What if Evan had really had a hand in her father’s death? What then? She hadn’t even thought that far ahead. Maybe because, deep down, she felt certain he had not. Or perhaps their brief moments together had addled her mind and clouded her judgement. For certain, she missed his lovemaking and gruff company, though Lord only knew why. The lovemaking was unlike anything she had ever experienced, but how did that make up for his terrible temperament? She was not so different to her mother it seemed.
Sliding the key into the lock, Lilly glanced around the dark cottage again and turned it. She winced at the sound of sliding metal and the creak of the door when she pushed it open. Guilt pricked her mind. It had to be done though. Why keep your study locked in a house full of trusted servants unless you have some sort of underhanded dealings? Mrs Hargreaves had informed her that Lord Hawksley often came to Rushbourne to work on his estate affairs and business dealings. There had to be some source of information in here.
She slipped into the room, leaving the door ajar so as not to make any more noise. If Mrs Hargreaves discovered Lilly had stolen the study key from under her nose—literally as the woman had been preoccupied with scolding the gardener at the time—there would be hell to pay. The housekeeper’s loyalty remained with her master and while that was admirable, it put Lilly at a disadvantage. The woman refused to confide in her in spite of all her attempts at creating a bond. The other servants were not so close-mouthed but to Lilly’s frustration, their words were only complimentary towards their master and none hinted at any sort of illegal behaviour.
Either it was the truth or Evan was adept at deception, for even she struggled to keep up any kind of conviction that he might have done something to her father.
Lilly took a moment to find her bearings. The heavy drapes remained open, tied back by the same thick silk ropes that the curtains in the drawing room were. Several bookcases lined one wall and a large mahogany desk sat in front of the long window. On the other wall, a portrait of a handsome man sat in a gilded frame. Even in the low light, she saw the similarity to Evan. The last marquess, she suspected. Evan spoke little of his family aside from Thomas, and it seemed there was no affection towards his parents. Lilly couldn’t fathom that. In spite of their failings and her frustration at their s
elfish behaviour, she loved her mother and father very much. An ache threatened to close her throat. She shook her head and moved around the desk. She seldom allowed herself to think about how alone she was now and this was certainly not the time.
Rifling through the desk drawers, her frustration mounted when all she found was invoices and bank statements. The marquess was rich indeed, again provoking her to wonder why he might want revenge on her father for the unpaid debt. Lord Hawksley, it seemed, seldom gambled away his money like many men of his rank and handled his finances carefully. After managing her mother’s house for several years, Lilly recognised Evan to be a cautious, reliable investor, rarely taking risks, going against her initial impression.
She shoved the various folders back and debated his desk. A sheaf of letters sat under a paperweight and she dug through them, dismissing any from a Mr Letts who appeared to be the Hawksley estate manager. The urgency of one shoved to the bottom caught her eye. The writing showed haste, being almost illegible and presumably from someone who had not been schooled in the art of penmanship. The name at the bottom was a Mrs Mary Wilson. Lilly searched her memory for such a name but came up with nothing. In the poor light of the window, the words were hard to make out but the letter spoke of Evan needing to come to London promptly.
“Interesting reading?”
Lilly jerked her head up. “Evan!” She shoved the letter on the desk behind her and straightened. “What are you doing here?”
“This is my home.” A brow rose.
Having discarded his jacket somewhere, his necktie hung loosely around his collar and the first few buttons on his shirt were undone. That familiar pang of need rolled through her at the sight of a little taut flesh. With his mussed hair and lazy smile, he reminded her of how he looked after their lovemaking.
“I didn’t expect you back until tomorrow.” She clasped her hands together and eyed him warily.
“I caught the late train and walked from the station.” He stepped fully into the room and shut the door.
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