The Three Evesham Daughters: Books 1-3: A Regency Romance Trilogy

by Audrey Ashwood

  “And … what,” he stepped up to her, “is the reason for your presence?” The scent of her lilies of the valley reached his nostrils, dispelling the stench of the Thames nearby.

  “I wanted …” she hesitated and swallowed. “I just wanted to prevent anyone from dying, just because you …” She fell silent.

  “Because I what?” The anger coursing through his veins was not because of her, but she did not know that. Gabriel took a deep breath and quelled his emotions until he regained self-control. Could it really be that she had come of her own free will? What in God’s name had Rose been thinking?

  “Because you are prepared to accept someone else’s death by reason of something futile.”

  Was she calling the seduction of his sister a trifle? But then he looked into her blue eyes glaring back at him angrily, and he knew that they were talking at cross purposes. The temptation to tell her the horrible truth about the real reason for the duel was immense. But before he said something that he would regret afterwards, he would first take her home. He turned to the young man in the driver’s seat, who was listening intently. “Drive back to town. I will take the lady home.” Gabriel heard her surprised intake of breath and ignored it, then reached into his pocket and tossed a coin to the coachman. The boy caught it skilfully.

  “Thank you, but I do not need you to escort me,” she said in a raised voice.

  For the first time, the doctor intervened, having hitherto kept a discreet distance. He cleared his throat and approached them. “My Lady, with all due respect, it is safer if you allow us to accompany you.”

  “With all due respect, Sir, I am perfectly capable of making my own way home.”

  “I do not doubt that, but …”

  “Stop the banter.” Gabriel interrupted them. “Lady Rose, you are coming with me. Doctor, thank you for your presence. I will make sure that the young lady arrives home safely.” To lessen his harsh tone, he added, “Please come to dinner with me and my sister tonight. Then, we can discuss everything else in a slightly more pleasant atmosphere.”

  Hollingsworth gave him a sceptical look but relented and climbed into the hired carriage.

  “Are you coming?” Gabriel pointed to his waiting carriage. Lady Rose opened her mouth and closed it again, giving him a look he recognised from his sister. It meant that she had submitted – for the time being.

  Chapter 13

  Rose did not know which was the strongest feeling raging inside her: anger at the arrogant marquess and his presumptuous behaviour, or concern for Richard, who had not come on the scene. Her legs trembled and she was glad, but not grateful, when Cavanaugh offered her a hand as she climbed the folding steps into the interior of his carriage. For the first few minutes, she busied herself with straightening her coat and bonnet and finding a comfortable place as far away from him as possible. Although Rose had no doubt that she had done the right thing, she felt unusually self-conscious without the presence of Mrs. Prisson. In her imagination, Rose had felt footloose and fancy-free without her chaperone, but the reality was quite different. In truth, the longer she was alone with the Marquess of Cavanaugh, the greater her nervousness became. He was not a relative, and additionally, he intervened in a very stoic manner. She kept looking at him out of the corner of her eye, trying to read something in his face. It was a futile undertaking. His features were a stone mask, and even his body was perfectly motionless. Had it not been for the slight rising and sinking of his chest, she would have doubted that he was human at all.

  It was he who broke the silence between them when her fingers had nothing left to do.

  “May I suggest that we start all over again, Lady Rose.” His voice filled the cramped space in a way that she preferred not to think about.

  “And that surely means that I apologise for my inadmissible, unreasonable, and, as you would see it, entirely inappropriate interfering,” she replied with much more courage than she felt.

  “Firstly, it was only an attempt to interfere,” he replied, “and secondly, I did not speak of apologies, but of a fresh start.”

  “You make it sound as if we were monarchs from two hostile countries entering into diplomatic relations. Of course, you cannot help but to demean me with your first sentence. It would have been more than just an attempt if my fiancé had not been prevented from coming.”

  “All right, I apologise for my presumption.”

  Rose bit her lip to keep herself from interrupting him and telling him that he was a bad actor, whose half-hearted apology she did not accept.

  “But reveal to me, what was your plan? Did you intend to throw yourself between us? “

  That came pretty close to her intention. “Why not? If I had prevented Richard from being killed, I would not care if I made a fool of myself in your eyes.”

  “It is not a matter of making a fool of yourself, Lady Rose.”

  That was not the answer she wanted to hear, but if she waited for something of a friendly nature or, God forbid, even flattering to emerge from Cavanaugh’s mouth, Rose would have to wait until she was old and grey, living with thirteen cats instead of a husband.

  “If your betrothed was not the one who told you about the duel, and, conveniently the venue, as well, so you could turn up in his place, then who did disclose it? Nobody but de Coucy, my second and I, knew about it.” The contempt in his voice was cold as ice. Was it directed to her or to Richard?

  “It was an unfortunate coincidence, nothing more. A fortunate coincidence, I mean, of course.” She would not show any weakness and admit that she began to have the tiniest doubt about the reason for her actions.

  The Marquess of Cavanaugh gave her a sceptical look but let her answer pass. Rose wanted to sit back, relieved, but he kept talking. The interrogation was not over yet. He leaned forward and relieved her of every opportunity to avoid his gaze. “It is about whether your safety was worth the risk you took. On the way here, anything could have happened to you, and who knows what awaits you at home when your parents notice that you are gone? They will be worried about you, Lady Rose. Your parents love you, just like one can only love someone who …” He broke off and cleared his throat.

  “I know,” Rose admitted, feeling her defiance dissolve into nothing at the mention of her parents. “But I simply saw no other way to prevent this duel from happening than by sneaking out of the house. At least I had to try. But you do not understand that.”

  “Then explain it to me,” Cavanaugh said, without interrupting the unsettling eye contact between them.

  Rose straightened. “I did it for love,” she said, trying to sound proud and fearless. For some reason, that explanation hit him, for he abruptly leaned back as if she had insulted him personally. “I know, for you, love does not count as a reason for doing something quite so rash. I suppose your motivations for the duel are clearly more important than something so insignificant. Tell me, why did you challenge Lord de Coucy? “

  “Out of love,” he replied firmly, looking at her steadfast.

  “I … do not understand,” Rose stammered, thoroughly surprised by his confession. “How can that be? Richard is engaged to me … he does not love another woman. No, he certainly does not. I mean, why else would he have proposed to me? I …” She stopped.

  “I did not call him out because we love the same woman, at least not in that sense. You can love someone without desiring them. I am talking about my sister and the unwanted affection he has imposed on her, with a more than unpleasant outcome that will ruin my sister’s reputation.”

  What was he talking about? He seemed to be completely serious about his words. Then she understood. “Oh, no,” she protested, instinctively raising her hands. “You say Richard and Lady Henrietta …?” Then the realisation hit Rose with full force. Henrietta’s paleness, her discomfort … The sister of the marquess was expecting a child, and Cavanaugh believed that Richard was responsible. Not only that, he also claimed that Richard was a hideous monster without a spark of honour! She shook he
r head, again and again. “He is engaged to me,” she repeated, as if the words were a charm. A useless charm, because she felt her tears rising. She would not cry. Not in the presence of a man who took every effort to make her unhappy. “What have I done to you?” she whispered. In the semi-darkness of the coach, she saw his face drain of all colour. “Is this about the letter you gave Richard on my behalf? Do you despise me so much that you are doing anything possible to punish me? “

  “I do not despise you,” he replied just as softly. “Your misfortune is certainly not my intention.” She did not want to believe him, not a single word. “But I cannot let de Coucy get away for what he did to my sister.”

  “You want him to marry Lady Henrietta?” Rose had not thought that the morning could get any worse, but she was wrong. With every passing minute she spent in Cavanaugh’s presence, her world was growing darker and darker.

  Rose knew he was wrong, but it was no wonder that the marquess was beside himself with rage towards Richard. “I … I am so sorry for your sister,” she said, and for the first time in two years, she felt something like understanding for the man. “This is not a bit about me. I am sorry.” The thoughts in Rose’s mind were racing. His face was half in shadow, and she could not tell if he had even heard her words. “Is there anything I can do other than assure you that Richard would never force himself on a woman? I know him,” she continued as Cavanaugh still remained silent. “He kissed me once and never again, even though I … would not have minded,” she bravely finished her sentence with a confession that she would have liked to take back. But if she could convince the Marquess of Cavanaugh that he was wrong, embarrassment was a price that Rose gladly paid. Rose closed her eyes. Why was he not saying anything? Had she made everything worse with her confession? Strictly speaking, she did not truly believe that. His opinion of her was already bad enough, and she could not sink even lower in his respect. Presumably, she represented everything he loathed: too rash, too demanding, too purposeful. “Please say something,” she whispered, no longer able to stand the silence, her eyes still closed.

  “I do not know where to begin.”

  Rose almost opened her eyes, so surprised by his statement. She heard the horses’ hooves clattering on the cobblestones. How long had they been on the road? Surely, she would be home soon.

  “I deeply regret destroying the image you have of your fiancé.”

  Then do not do it, a voice inside her whispered, but Rose could not say the words aloud. She bit the inside of her cheeks to prevent herself from giving a nervous sob as a strange feeling spread through her chest. It was not fear, at least not only fear, but something much more powerful. Rose dreaded his next words even more than his anger – it was as if she already knew what he was going to say before he said it.

  “There is no doubt, my Lady. My sister named him as the man who misled her.”

  “There has to be a misunderstanding. Richard … no, I cannot believe it. Are you sure that you heard it correctly?” Had Henrietta lied? But why would she name Richard, of all people? It made no sense, at least not to Rose. Nor could she imagine that the young woman was lying. Rose straightened up and finally opened her eyes. “You haven’t answered my question yet.”

  “Which question?”

  She noticed that he was scrunching his hat in his hands and crumpled it. She felt like removing the battered headpiece from his fingers, but instead Rose folded her hands in her lap. “You have not answered any of my questions. For example, what I have done to you. Or whether you expect my fiancé to marry your sister.”

  “We are just arriving at your parents’ house,” he said absently. If she were a man, she would have called him out to a duel there and then, barbaric as it was. This man brought her to a white heat by not letting her in on his thoughts!

  “Very well, then.” He seemed to have come to a decision. “Lady Rose,” he began, “I wish you all the luck in the world with the man you love, but since de Coucy is responsible for my sister’s misfortune, he should marry Henrietta.”

  “If he were responsible,” Rose corrected him, folding her arms across her chest. “Why not ask him ourselves?”

  “I have already done that,” said Gabriel. She followed his gaze and saw that he was right. Her parents’ house was just one junction away. “I was not satisfied with his answer.”

  “I want to hear him admit it,” Rose insisted stubbornly. “From his own mouth, in his own words. I understand from what you have said that he did not flatly deny it. You are accusing an innocent man of lying, my Lord.” He seemed surprised, either by her persistence or her nitpick.

  “Then I suggest that you and I pay him a call and confront him. Today.” Was there a dare in Cavanaugh’s gaze, or did she imagine that?

  “I understand your haste, but can we not wait a day?” Thoughts were turning over in her mind. She had managed to sneak out of the house this morning, but Rose doubted that she could escape Miss Prisson and her mother for a second time in a day.

  “His failure to appear this morning does not shed much light on your betrothed,” the marquess retorted sharply. “I will not run the risk of him evading his responsibilities by fleeing the country. Your presence, my Lady, is not necessary.”

  “I will not be prevented from hearing the words from his own mouth.” Not giving in nearly cost her more strength than she had left. “Please have your coachman halt here.”

  When the carriage came to a stop, she hesitated for a moment. “I shall try my best to be with you this afternoon. Perhaps I can convince my mother that your sister wishes for my visit. Therefore, expect me at teatime,” Rose concluded with more confidence in her voice than she felt.

  “If you are not caught right away and banned from going out for the rest of the season, or even sent to the countryside,” he stated.

  Did he have to remind her that she had to expect a royal dressing down from Mrs Prisson and her mother, unless her chaperone, surprisingly, kept it quiet from the duchess? “Unlike you, I shall try to remain optimistic.”

  Rose opened the door herself, not waiting for Gabriel to help her out of the carriage. She gave him her most majestic smile before making her way to the garden gate she had gone through a few hours earlier. Her departure would have been perfect, had he not had the last word, and had he not cat-called at her with a quote from her favourite poet.

  “Well roared, lion1.”

  1 Shakespeare, William, 1595/96 A Midsummer Night’s Dream

  Chapter 14

  The look that Lady Rose cast his direction found its way into his heart as unerringly as an arrow from Cupid’s quiver. The fake smile on her face faded to one that he could not see enough of. It was not a radiant one, but one that spread, above all, to the corners of her mouth and then extended to her eyes that flashed at him half-reproachfully, half-provocatively. For a moment, he saw the possibility of a future in which he wooed Rose with words, and she allowed him to kiss her without having to resort to a masquerade.

  Had he resisted the temptation back then, his life would be far less complicated. But he did not regret what he had done – in fact, he did not want to regret his act. As long as Lady Rose kept coming into his life, poised to shake it up, Gabriel would not be able to banish her from his thoughts. He realised that he was still smiling when his coachman asked him where they were heading now. “Home,” came his reply, as Rose disappeared from sight. Had she managed to secretly slip into the house? He had no doubt that she would succeed. Gabriel leaned back. Only a few hours, then he would see her again.

  He had tried to convince himself that the only reason why he could not get her out of his head was that bewildering kiss – however, that would not do her justice. For him, her allure ran deeper than her physical beauty could. There were many attractive, even seductive women, but not one of them was so … alive. He liked her loyalty, bordering on mulishness, and he wished it would not validate a subject as unworthy as Richard de Coucy. What had the man done to make her want to defend hi
m with tooth and nail? Gabriel could not imagine that she would be happy with a man like de Coucy in the long run, not just because he had no morals and no backbone. It was, beyond everything, de Coucy’s hypocrisy that would plunge Rose into disaster, it was as sure as there was carts to horses. Behind her beauty hid a curious, unconventional spirit, and that was a trait that de Coucy would never tolerate in his own wife. She would wither away like a rose in the first frost. The laughter in her eyes would gradually give way to quiet resignation.

  It was hell on earth to imagine what her life would look like in three- or four-years’ time.

  But was he the better choice for Lady Rose? Or was he just trying to whitewash his own desire to have her by his side? Gabriel had never seriously thought about marrying as long as his older brother was still considered the titular heir. But now it was his duty to continue the line of the Cavanaughs, more than ever, since Henrietta was carrying a bastard under her heart and most likely would not make a favourable marriage. Gabriel, who had always considered himself a conservative man and who, at some point in the foreseeable future, would choose a good wife of strict morals, found himself in a moral dilemma. If he was proven right and de Coucy had seduced his sister, Lady Rose’s engagement had to run aground. Albeit, allowing de Coucy to get away scot-free meant that Gabriel was letting go of the woman he wanted for himself. No matter how he twisted and turned the matter, there was no easy solution.

  The carriage slowed down and, as he peered out, they had already stopped in front of the entrance to his house. He was looking forward to a cup of tea and breakfast before tackling his next duties. Today, he wanted to talk to Lady Catherine; also, Henrietta’s delicate condition needed a solution.

  But when he was sitting in the breakfast room buttering his bread roll, to his surprise, Henrietta and Lady Catherine joined him. Over the last few days they had not arrived until eleven o’clock in the morning, and it was still early. He got up and pulled back their chairs before settling back into his seat, wondering if he could raise both problems here and now. How much did his great cousin know about Henrietta’s condition and, if she did not know, could he expect her to hear the shocking news?