“What can I do?” He felt deflated. Lady Seymour had taken Eva out of the shadows and introduced her to society. Even if he could convince Eva that spending time in society could be harmful to her and her mother, Lady Seymour was a complication. The woman wouldn’t accept a continued arrangement between himself and Eva. “By morning, she will be the most sought-after young woman of the Season.”
Mother laughed lightly. “I have never seen you so out of sorts with any woman, Nicholas. This woman has wriggled her way into your head. And perhaps your heart.”
His head snapped around. “I do not love her.” The protest was too quick, and did nothing to remove her knowing stare. “I have seen what love can do. You loved Father, and yet he mistreated you dreadfully.”
Finally, she sobered. “Oh, Nicholas.” She placed a hand on his arm. “Do not allow your parents’ mistakes to keep you from love. I was young and smitten by a handsome face. I didn’t look inside to see the darkness in Charles.” She shook her head sadly. “You are not your father.”
“Miss Winfield would argue that point.” He’d lived his life climbing out from under his father’s shadow, only to treat Eva in as beastly a fashion as his father had treated his mother. He’d allowed his father’s example to blind him to Arabella’s unhappiness, too. He felt a flush of guilt. “There are many reasons for Miss Winfield to despise me.”
The duchess turned toward the dining hall. “I think you are mistaken, Nicholas. Miss Winfield cares for you more than she knows.”
She waved to an acquaintance, then faced him. “She watches you as you watch her. I think you should put off your engagement until you have settled matters with Miss Winfield.”
Nicholas nodded, then noticed his mother go still.
“Dear Lord! Is she the child of Charlotte Rose?” At his nod, all the color fled her face. “Oh, Nicholas, you have stepped into a pit of mire.” She took his arm and led him to a small padded bench in a private corner, then dragged him down beside her. “Charlotte Rose was the impoverished daughter of the Count and Countess Moreau of France. She was sixteen when her parents were killed, and she became the ward of her elderly English aunt, Lady Cordelia Winfield Suttleby. I don’t know all the details, but three years later, after Lady Suttleby died, her small fortune went to her one remaining male relative.”
Catherine sighed, her eyes troubled. “The girl vanished.”
Nicholas felt every word slam into his head. Eva was French nobility? He had stumbled into mire, up to his neck. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear the rest of the tale. However, to know what he was dealing with, he needed all the details. “Continue.”
“London was abuzz when she resurfaced several months later and caused quite a scandal in the Ton. There were so many rumors about her and where she’d been. All we knew for certain was that she was looking for a protector, and all the men desired to take their place in her bed. I knew this sorrowful tale because your father made sure I understood he planned to be the victor.”
He knew Father was a bastard, but this went too far.
The duchess tapped her fan on her knee. “In spite of his best attempts, your father had to concede when she chose Lord Seymour. Then one day she vanished, this time for good. Eventually the whispers and speculation settled, and that was that. I guess we now know the final chapter of the story.”
“Eva.” His brain pulsed inside his skull. Eva was no longer just a spinster and a courtesan’s daughter. She was a count’s granddaughter, a lady’s sister, his courtesan. He should run from her, marry Lucy, and retire to obscurity deep in the country. That would be best for everyone.
When had his orderly world become so upended? He scowled. Oh, yes, the moment he’d found out she’d stolen Arabella and had vowed revenge.
“Do you care for the girl, Nicholas?”
“Of course I care for her, Mother,” he snapped. “We have shared intimacies. But do not look for more. I will not wed her, if that is what is spinning around in your head.”
He scanned the room. Lucy was chattering with the dashing Mister Albright. No amount of will could summon up even a trace of jealousy. Even if she dropped to her back on the marble floor and invited him to take her innocence in front of this company, Nicholas wouldn’t care. His every thought and desire had focused on Eva from the moment he discovered a few stray red-blonde hairs peeking out from beneath that damnable wig.
Deep within him, he suspected it would always be so.
“Perhaps you should marry the girl,” Mother said softly. “Clearly, you are taken with each other.”
It was Nicholas who was surprised. His mother suggested marriage to someone with Eva’s background? It was outlandish to consider it. “Imagine the scandal, Mother. No matter the blue blood in her veins, her mother was a courtesan, and that cannot be ignored. I must choose a woman with an impeccable reputation.”
“So you say.” Mother shrugged. “Our family has weathered worse scandals. Your great-great-grandfather was a highwayman, though never caught, and your great-grandmother was a sixteen-year-old milkmaid. I think your great-grandfather discovered her walking along the road, became smitten, and ran off to Gretna Green with her that very day.” She smiled. “Theirs was a long and loving union.”
Eva walked back into the ballroom on the earl’s arm, as comfortable with him as if they were old friends. Her beauty complemented the impeccably dressed man at her side. They were a handsome pair.
Frustration welled within Nicholas. Again. He had to put an immediate stop to the earl’s pursuit, or Eva would be engaged to the rake and lost to him forever.
Her face drew him like a siren song. He gave his mother a quick nod, excused himself, and crossed the room.
“I would love to call on you tomorrow afternoon, My Lady,” the earl was saying as Nicholas drew near. “Certainly, your entire day is not completely filled.”
Eva had just opened her mouth when Nicholas appeared before her and took her hand. “I fear Miss Winfield will not be taking callers. She has promised me a picnic.” He drew her away from her smitten suitor and onto the dance floor. The first strains of a waltz rose. He pulled her closer than was entirely proper.
“How dare you?” Eva managed to force a smile for the curious onlookers. “Who I spend time with is none of your affair, Your Grace.”
He cocked a brow. “Is it not?” He spun her slowly around the floor. Her beauty challenged his ability to breathe. And for the second time this night, he found delight in having her in his arms. “Bedding you made it my business.”
“Oh”—Eva turned pink—“you are insufferable.”
“Indeed?” He grinned. “Most women find me charming.”
Eva wanted to kick him in the shin, hard. Unfortunately, this was not the place to do it without setting the gossips buzzing. There was already too much speculation about her. She’d caused a stir among the men in the company. The young women, and their mamas, were not happy with her presence at the ball. She’d had to fend off several proposals, proper and otherwise, and ignore biting speculation about her true identity. If she gave in to the impulse to kick the duke, it would not help her cause.
“Charming?” She laughed scornfully to hide her hurt. “You called me a whore.”
His face tightened. “A moment I gravely regret, Eva. I was shocked to find you here and I said something I didn’t mean.” He eased back enough for her to see his face. “I do not think of you that way.”
The apology was heartfelt. Some of her hurt faded. “Apology accepted. I still do not find you charming. Not in the least.”
A slow grin lifted his mouth. “Indeed? It is one of the things women love most about me, besides my handsome face and superior form, of course.”
She choked on a laugh. He was simply arrogant to the bone.
And yet, in his arms she felt as if she were dancing on clouds. He was so male, so powerful, so handsome. Every part of her was aware of his presence, and a familiar ache grew within her. She wished they were alone.<
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“I suppose when one is hoping to marry a duke with an immense fortune,” she said, “it would be to any woman’s advantage not to mention your less than, um, attractive faults.”
“Faults? Interesting.” He turned his face into grim mask that didn’t remove the mischief in his eyes. “Now that you have pointed out that I have some faults, I think you should make me a list so I can work on changing them all.”
Eva struggled not to smile. After spending the evening glowering, his sudden change of mood was unexpected, and welcome. With one of his hands holding hers and the other circling her waist, she felt as if he was making a public claim to her. Of course it was just a dance, but for a moment, she felt as if they belonged together.
“Oh, dear. I do apologize, Your Grace. I fear the list would be far too long to write and would cramp my hand.” She flexed her fingers on his shoulder to make her point. “I think the first ten should suffice.”
“Hmm.” He drew them to a halt when the music faded, but kept hold of her until the music swelled again. Several men lurking nearby frowned, then turned away. Nicholas seemed not to notice. “Perhaps I should help. Let’s see. You have called me arrogant. I will give you that. One.”
Eva bit her lip to hide a smile. He smelled of spirits and exotic spice. His high stock framed his manly jaw, and the cut of his black coat accentuated his broad shoulders to sinewy perfection. She suspected every unattached woman at the ball, and some married ones, too, envied her at this moment.
Remembering how it felt to be sensuously assaulted on his desk, her body tingled. If he asked her to run from the room and follow him to his town house, she would not refuse.
“Two. I agree I am spoiled and used to having my every wish fulfilled. You must blame my mother for that. As her only child, she refused me very little. Yet, there is much I still desire.”
Somehow, under the weight of his perusal, she suspected he wasn’t talking about horses and estates, but remembering their amorous encounters. If they were alone, he would make very good use of Lady Pennington’s immense dining table to debauch her in the most delicious ways.
Her nipples budded beneath her gown. She very much needed to find something less arousing than His Grace and his vigorous lovemaking to occupy her mind and time.
“Insufferable, outrageous, domineering. Three, four, and five.” He grinned, and she shook her head. He tightened his hand on her waist. It was proving difficult to hear him over the rapid beat of her heart. His warmth seeped through her, and she felt and saw nothing outside the circle of his arms. “Impossible, intolerable, infuriating, disrespectful. Six, seven, eight, nine.” He seemed to ponder the last, which made her giggle in spite of herself. He was impossibly charming when he wanted to be. “I hope you do not consider my lovemaking skills as a fault, love,” he said finally. “I do not think I could bear it.”
“Your Grace,” she scolded. A quick look about confirmed no one was near enough to hear, and she breathed again.
“I remember I kissed your neck and nuzzled your ears with gentle vigor,” he continued casually, as if he’d not heard her protest. “I suckled your breasts sufficiently. Your moans bespoke your pleasure.”
Heat sizzled through her body. A scandalized laugh caught in her throat and she choked out, “Please stop, Your Grace. Someone will hear.”
“My thrusts were deep and enthusiastic. I plundered you fully until you reached cry-inducing orgasms.” He locked onto her eyes and his gaze was all innocence. “You called out my name. More than once, as I recall.”
Now she laughed outright. She caressed his shoulder and no longer cared who noticed. She was thoroughly enjoying herself with this man, her lover, at her first and only ball.
“You are such an exasperating man.”
“Ten. Exasperating. Your list is complete.” He whirled her around as their laughter mingled and drew dozens of eyes.
It was two women, standing shoulder to shoulder, to whom the dancing pair were of the most interest. Lady Noelle Seymour and Her Grace, the Dowager Duchess of Stanfield, whispered quietly, a matching set of frowns marking their faces.
“Miss Winfield is a woman of quality and good character?” the duchess asked, her keen eyes sharp.
Noelle nodded. When the duchess had approached her, she had worried that she had discovered the ruse and planned to have the two sisters ejected from the ball. To her delight, Her Grace had learned the truth about Eva’s liaison with her son but was not outraged. In fact, she wasn’t displeased with her son’s clear preference for Eva over the other lovelies.
“She is. She was an innocent when your son seduced her.” Noelle wanted to make certain Eva was rightfully portrayed as the victim, and her innocence in the seduction fully established in the duchess’s mind. “I do not know the particulars, but it was not her intention to go to his bed.”
The duchess nodded. “Nicholas has a certain charm with women.”
They watched for a moment as son and sister lowered their heads to speak intimately as the music died. All eyes were on them. “They do make a magnificent couple,” Noelle said, sighing.
“They do,” Her Grace agreed, “delightful.”
Noelle was only just learning about her sister, but knew she’d suffered for the sins of her parents. To see her with His Grace, laughing and happy, brought her joy.
Eva complemented his dark looks with her fire. Though she denied her feelings for him, Noelle saw the way Eva looked at the insufferable duke. She was ensnared by him. It would not be long before she was headlong in love, if she wasn’t already.
“Will he wed her?” Noelle asked.
The duchess narrowed her eyes. “He will if I have a say in it. My son deserves to be happy. If Miss Winfield can bring him that, I will welcome her gladly into my family.”
Noelle turned her head. The duchess seemed sincere. But there were secrets left to test Her Grace’s goodwill. “There are things about Eva you do not know, Your Grace.”
Green eyes met hers. “I know more than you suspect, Lady Seymour. Her mother’s past is of no consequence.”
This was a surprise to Noelle. She knew Her Grace had lived with humiliating scandal. Her husband had lived the life of a whoremonger, a man who carelessly drifted from affair to affair, with no concern for the feelings of his wife. When he died, all of London had let out a collective sigh of relief.
The duchess was immensely popular among society. Though they’d gossiped about her shame, they also sympathized with her plight. Now she was free, and there wasn’t anyone who didn’t think the heart seizure that took the duke had not been deserved.
Noelle mentally crossed herself for thinking such a horrible thought. This was a night of surprises, starting with finding Eva in an embrace with the duke. She would not tarnish her joy over her sister’s happiness with grim and unhappy thoughts.
It must be all the duchess had lived through that left her sympathetic to Eva’s situation. Whatever her reasons for accepting her sister, Noelle would not question them. As long as the duchess was on her side, Eva and His Grace stood no chance of escape.
“Then we have work to do, Your Grace.”
Chapter Fourteen
Eva left Noelle in the hallway and walked to her room. It was a strange feeling to be wandering the same hallways, eating at the same table, enjoying the same comforts her father had enjoyed under this roof. These halls echoed with his laughter, his anger, his touch.
Here, he’d lived one life with his wife and children. With her mother and her, he’d enjoyed another life. They were two parallel worlds, carefully kept apart. As Noelle and Margaret were growing up here and at his home in Kent, Eva grew up in a town house in Mayfair, some miles away.
It took the curiosity of her sister for the two lives to collide. She no longer doubted Noelle’s reasons for seeking her out. Noelle cared for her, as she cared for Noelle. It was a strange circumstance, yet not so, when one considered the source. Noelle liked to press against the boundaries of societal
rules, and Eva was a part of that. Their becoming friends was a wonderful twist to this adventure.
Eva wondered what her father would think of two of his beloved daughters finding each other.
She suspected he’d be pleased.
It was impossible not to expect that at any moment he would appear in an open doorway and pull her into his arms for one of his hugs that smelled faintly of pipe tobacco.
“I miss you, Father,” Eva whispered, and took a few deep breaths. She rubbed her arms and stopped outside her room.
In the last few weeks, she’d gone from an innocent to a mistress, then from being an only child to having a sister. Two, if she counted Margaret, even though she clearly wanted no part of Noelle’s plans to meet Eva. No matter. She was quite satisfied with the sister she had.
Swept from the darkness of a sheltered existence into the light of the Ton, Eva was not at all sure how it would work out.
Truthfully, she was fearful that she was on a runaway horse racing toward the edge of a cliff, and no amount of sawing on the reins would stop the frantic beast.
Tomorrow, she’d pack her bag and return home to her orderly life, leaving Noelle to offer an explanation for her disappearance.
It was her sister’s idea to drag her to the ball, and it was Noelle who’d have to make appropriate excuses when suitors called. Her sister would undoubtedly come up with a plausible explanation. Noelle loved a good tale.
Eva smoothed her hands over the gown and smiled. Once the clock had struck two and they’d left the ball, she’d turned back into a scullery maid. A well-dressed scullery maid. She wouldn’t feel a bit guilty leaving Noelle to mop up the mess she’d created.
The house was quiet when she entered her room and lighted a wall sconce. The frothy pink bedroom was not her taste. Apparently, Margaret had chosen the colors as a child, and it hadn’t been changed a whit since then. Eva imagined Margaret’s pinch-faced displeasure if she knew the daughter of her father’s mistress was spending the evening in her bed.
The School for Brides Page 17
