“If the investigator finds her, what then?” Sophie plucked at the lace edging of her pink gown until the piece frayed. She smoothed it down and clasped her hands. “What if her lover has locked her in a tower and plans to starve her? What if she is chained in a cellar with rats?”
“Oh, dear.” Rose’s lips trembled, and she pressed a knuckle to her mouth. “What if he has sold her to slavers? She might end up in some far-off place and never be seen again.”
Eva lifted her hands. She had to restore order before they worked themselves into a frenzy. “Ladies, please. We must not overwork our imaginations.” Their minds had clearly sent their speculation in all sorts of dark directions. “To be of any use to Yvette, we must think positive thoughts.“
“Miss Eva is right,” Abigail offered. “We must allow the investigator to discover some clues. It is quite possible she has not been kidnapped at all. Perhaps she has found a new protector and is happy.”
“We all hope for her happiness, Abigail.” As Eva sipped her tea, a possible answer to the dilemma formed.
For the past two days, she had been avoiding the duke. He’d sent around a note, but she had refused to accept it. The only way to forget him was avoidance. Once he realized she was no longer available to him, he’d propose to his Lucy and get about the business of marriage.
But now, if Yvette was held being captive, Eva might have to visit His Grace one last time for help. He would know someone who could rescue her. Maybe enlist the Bow Street Runners.
Her heart ached for Nicholas, and she did her best to ignore the pain. It would be a constant presence once the final break was made and her heart was left in bits. She might as well get used to it now. They had no future.
Rose nodded. “I think we should choose two suitors for her. There was one man, a merchant, she seemed drawn to. Perhaps we can find another.” She retrieved the book. The other women gathered around her as she turned the pages. “See, this one. He is a mature man of forty. He owns a tea shop and travels frequently to France to visit his brother. Yvette’s mother was French.”
“He is a fine choice,” Pauline agreed as she turned the page. “And this one. He, too, is in his forties, widowed, with grown children. He seeks a companion to help fill his days.” She smiled. “He might be perfect for Yvette.”
“He very well might,” Sophie agreed.
“Turn the page. I think I know of another,” Abigail said. Excitement grew. “I believe there was a shopkeeper near the back. He was widowed and his children are also grown.”
The women chattered happily as they examined all the men as possible husbands for Yvette. Eva was relieved that they had found something to focus on besides dark speculation about Yvette’s fate.
“Turn to the last page,” Eva said. “Just yesterday I added an American shipbuilder. He was recommended to me by Mister Jones.” Pages ruffled, and several sighs followed. “The American plans to move his company to London and he is quite prosperous. I think we should consider sending him an invitation.”
“He is handsome,” said Pauline.
“Very much so,” added Rose.
“He has an impeccable reputation. I have been assured of that.”
“Then he must be included,” Sophie said firmly. “We shall have to make a list and whittle it down to the best two”—she looked at Eva—“or three.”
Eva smiled. Her courtesans had turned from objects of pleasure to young women of superior manners and quality. The men on her invitation list would be pleased with such a fine group, from the stunning Rose to the subtle beauty of Abigail. She could only pray for Yvette’s rescue and successful matches for all five women.
“We must quickly finalize Yvette’s list.” Eva poured more tea. “I will send out the invitations tomorrow.”
The next day, with the invitations sent, Eva went over the party menu with Cook. Since the gathering would be small, and in mid afternoon, there was no need to offer an elaborate meal. Tea, cakes, punch, and sandwiches would feed the guests nicely. And of course food was always a possible topic of conversation when one had to fill long stretches of silence.
Eva knew from previous experience that there would be very little eating. Though there wasn’t pressure to choose a mate at the party, there was always anxiety the first time her former courtesans put their lessons to use.
How could there not be? This was the culmination of all their hard work. The women had been beautiful and charming from the first; Eva had just given them tools to pave a path to marriage. They would be tested, if only in their own minds, and each felt the strain.
Harold had taken the women to their final fittings for the dresses they would wear to the party. The excitement of the impending event was dampened slightly by Yvette’s absence, yet there was lingering hope she would be found and returned to them in time. The women clung to that hope and forced themselves to continue as planned.
Eva wasn’t sure of anything outside her own situation. She, too, forced herself to press through her days in a fog. She was unsettled and grim, as if a black cloud was following her and she could not outrun it.
She deeply missed His Grace. More than she had ever expected she would. She’d never been in love before. She struggled daily with the complications of that unwelcome emotion.
Prayers for Mister Crawford’s swift return went unanswered. The wait was grueling. If all went well, the investigator would find and rescue Yvette, and Eva wouldn’t have to face Nicholas again. Each time she saw his handsome face, it was a blow to her heart.
It was three days into her self-imposed removal from Nicholas’s life, and she was short-tempered and grumpy. She was constantly biting her tongue so as not to snap at everyone, including her mother, over every little inconvenience.
What she desired most was to take to her bed for a fortnight, and weep and wail until Nicholas was washed away by her tears. He was likely engaged by now and looking forward to his wedding night. She could not see him allowing weeds to grow beneath his feet while his reluctant courtesan hid from him. He’d want to get Lucy quickly settled as his intended bride before another man had the chance to woo her away; then begin a search for a new lover. Men of his ilk never settled for the love of a wife. He’d seek a courtesan to warm his bed.
The kitchen suddenly felt very hot, and her head swam. She dropped the menu and whispered, “Excuse me.”
To Cook’s surprise, Eva rushed out the back door into the garden. Fearing she was about to be ill, she sucked in deep, damp breaths until her stomach settled.
It was cool and cloudy; not the sort of day to stroll through the garden. She felt an invisible sheen of moisture settle on her bare arms and face. The first spring flowers were in full bloom against the bleak backdrop, but she did not give them more than a dismissive glance. She hurried to the nearest stone bench and dropped onto its damp surface.
Tears threatened. Unhappiness settled inside her. The idea of Nicholas married was more than she could accept under the weight of frayed emotions. The only bed he should be sharing was hers! His children should be hers!
“Eva?”
Startled, she jerked her head up. Through the tears welling in her eyes, she saw Nicholas coming up the path with the brisk strides of a confident nobleman. He wore a hat and cloak to fend off the threatening rain. She feasted on the sight of him as he drew close.
Quickly, she brushed her hand over her cheeks and stood. He must not see her pain.
“Your Grace.” Her heart leapt as she peered into his face. She wanted to run into his arms, kiss him, and touch him all over to assure herself he was not imagined. But she kept her feet planted where they were. “This is the second time you have come here uninvited, Your Grace. I will not have it.”
His jaw tightened at her curt words. “I was concerned when you didn’t reply to my message. I feared you had fallen ill.” He examined her briefly. His lips thinned. “I see you are in good health.”
She braced herself for what needed to be done. “I think
it best for all if we end our association, Your Grace. My sister is unhappy, I am unhappy, and soon you will be wed. Your Lucy will certainly be unhappy if you continue to bed me.”
“Lucy has no bearing on the relationship between you and me, Eva,” he said tightly. “I have not asked for her hand.”
“But you will.” Eva sighed. Why couldn’t he leave her alone? Couldn’t he see how difficult this was for her? “Either her or another blue blood like her. You have a family branch to fill out, and your mother will not be satisfied until she has a full dozen grandchildren to spoil.”
“You do not know my mother’s wishes.” He tapped his riding crop on his boot and tipped his face toward the leaden clouds. “She has not once mentioned Lucy since the ball. In fact, she has not mentioned marriage at all.”
Eva let out a harsh breath. She desperately hoped she had no part in his mother’s attitude change. She didn’t want to add the duchess to the list of people hurt by her actions.
“It doesn’t matter which woman you choose; the end will inevitably be the same. Your marriage. Since I have come into your life, I have stolen your courtesan, I have invaded your world, and quite possibly have prevented your engagement. I think it best if you return to Collingwood House and forget you ever knew me.” She locked and unlocked her hands together. “I will pay you monthly until my debt is cleared, even if it takes a hundred years.”
“You think I care about the damned debt?” His voice boomed over her. She jumped. He scowled. “The town house has been gifted to you in your name, so your mother cannot borrow against it again. The rest of the debts will be paid once I have an accounting of them in entirety.” He reached down to take her hand and drew her to her feet. “I made a mistake when I forced you to become my mistress through threats of debtors’ prison.”
How astonishing! She was free! She should be dancing for joy. But not even this could lift her spirits. “I thank you for your consideration, Your Grace. My mother and I are grateful.”
“Damn it, Eva.” He took her roughly by the arms and shook her lightly. He bent to look into her eyes. “I do not want your gratitude. I don’t want you to feel you should come to my bed out of some sense of obligation. I want you to continue our association because you desire me as I desire you.”
He dipped his head and brushed his warm lips over hers. Eva placed a hand on his chest and felt his rapid heartbeat. Just as quickly, he released her, and she wobbled. “I will not come to you again. You know where to find me. The decision is yours.”
Wide-eyed and breathless, Eva watched him stalk down the path toward the back wall. The slam of the metal gate echoed in her ears long after she heard a coach pull away.
She slumped onto the bench and covered her face. Nicholas had removed her chains and gifted her with the return of her life. She no longer had to worry about her future or his powerful presence tugging at her purse strings. Mother was safe and Eva never had to see him again, unless she chose to do so.
“Oh, dear.” She placed her open hands over her mouth and stared absently at a patch of blue hyacinths. His Grace had come as close to words of affection as she could ever expect from him. He’d freed her, yet he wanted her to stay.
There was no need to read poetry or to linger over words of love. He hungered for her, he cared for her. She’d seen it play out in his eyes and felt it in his kiss.
“I see His Grace has returned.” Harold rounded a narrow hedge and came to a stop before her. He stared toward the back of the garden, his face a closed mask. “He is smitten with you, Eva.”
“He cares for me,” Eva agreed. No man would give such a grand gift unless he cared for her welfare. “He has forgiven my debts and signed over Mother’s house to me.” Her voice caught in her throat, and she stared up at Harold through stinging eyes. A deep swallow cleared her voice. “And he has left our future together up to me.”
Harold worked his jaw for a long moment. It was clear he didn’t want to give credit to His Grace for his selfless act. The two men were fighting for the right to protect Eva and her mother. Thankfully, there had not been bloodshed.
“I may have misjudged the man,” he said finally.
Eva’s eyes widened. It had taken much out of Harold to admit his mistake.
“We both misjudged him,” she said.
After a nod, Harold scratched the side of his head. “Has he asked for your hand?”
“He has not.” She lifted her chin. She was too overwrought to argue today. “I do not expect such an offer. I’m a courtesan’s daughter.” A few raindrops started to fall. She held back tears and stood. “Oh, Harold, I do care for him. I know not what to do. I’m no longer satisfied with the life I have. I want so much more. I want a family of my own.”
Harold shrugged. “I cannot offer advice when it comes to His Grace or your future. You must do what is in your heart. If he cannot give you what you desire, you must let him go.”
Eva looped her hand under his elbow and rested her head on his shoulder. The damp wool of his coat was oddly comforting. She had missed their closeness over the last few weeks, and was relieved to have it back. “You are such a good friend.”
He patted her hand and mumbled, “If you only knew.”
Nicholas listened intently to Crawford until he finished his report. The investigator took a deep breath and added, “I’m certain the woman is being held somewhere in Highland Abbey. The earl’s servants are whispering about a woman locked in a room on the second floor. I believe she is the missing, perhaps kidnapped, Yvette.”
Kidnapped? Eva was correct to be worried. Her courtesan had not gone missing by choice but by force. Lord Maddington had had her kidnapped. The bastard!
“You told this to Miss Black?” It felt strange to call her by her spinster name, but it was better to keep Crawford thinking of her that way. Miss Black belonged to her courtesans. Evangeline Winfield belonged solely to Nicholas, and he easily kept the two separate in his mind.
“I left her and came here straightaway, Your Grace.” The investigator stood by the fire, warming from his journey across town in the rain. His bones crackled as he flexed and released his hands toward the flames. “The lady was very worried, and also very generous.”
Nicholas frowned. “You were not to take money from her.”
“I tried to refuse it.” Crawford grinned. “When I explained you would make the payment, her big servant forced a purse into my hand.” Crawford chuckled. “I feared what he might do if I refused. I slipped it onto a table on the way out.”
Grinning, Nicholas nodded. Eva wouldn’t be pleased.
Harold was as persuasive as he was large. Nicholas imagined Eva, the servant at her back, refusing to allow Nicholas to pay any further debts on her behalf. Even without Harold, he suspected Crawford had been outmanned. She was a force of her own, and would be angry when she discovered the purse left behind.
Lud, he missed her!
Stretching out his legs to ease the tightening in his crotch, Nicholas leaned an elbow on the armrest and tucked his jaw into his hand. “Thank you for your efforts, Crawford. You have done an excellent job. I have instructed my butler to double your fee. You can see him on the way out.”
Crawford tucked his hat onto his head and bowed. “If you ever need me again, just send a note, Your Grace.” He walked out the open door and down the hall.
Muted voices drifted back, then the front door closed behind the investigator. A few minutes later a knock echoed through the house. Nicholas heard a female voice, and then the butler escorted Eva into the room.
“Miss Winfield, Your Grace.”
Relieved to see her, Nicholas stood. “Eva.” She was a vision of ethereal beauty beneath the hood of her sodden cloak. Water dripped onto the polished floor as she pushed the hood back and her hair fell about her in a tangled mass of damp curls. She’d left off the wig. He cleared his throat to recover from his surprise and tamp down a sudden flush of desire.
He casually reached for his glass and t
ossed back the last swallow of brandy in an effort to calm his body. An insurmountable task when she was near. “I didn’t expect you, or I would have had tea prepared.”
She stepped farther into the room, and the firelight flickered across her pale face. “I did not come here for tea, Your Grace. This isn’t a social call.”
The news of the discovery of Yvette’s whereabouts was the likely reason for her visit. She was attached to her fallen birds, and with one chick missing, Eva had become obsessed with finding her and returning her to the nest.
“I saw Mister Crawford leave as I was arriving. So you know about Yvette.” She extended her hands, beseeching. “I am desperately worried about her, Your Grace. We need your help.”
Returning the glass to the table, he walked to her. With Crawford’s information, he knew what Yvette faced, and could not allow Eva to put herself in danger. She had to be convinced to let professionals handle the situation.
“There is little I can do, sweet, but summon the Bow Street Runners and let them do their own investigation.” He brushed a curl behind her ear. “Her lover is a peer. We must tread carefully.”
“You think they’d care about one missing courtesan, against the murders and thievery that happen here in London every day?” she cried, curling her hands into fists. “If they investigate this at all, it could take weeks, months even, to find enough evidence to rescue her. By then, Yvette could be dead or sold into slavery.”
The fear in her face twisted his gut. She had no idea of the size of Yvette’s problem. The woman was in grave trouble, and he couldn’t allow Eva to face the same by confronting Maddington. If any harm befell Eva, there would be hell to pay. “I have connections. I can hurry things along.”
Eva pressed a gloved fist to her mouth. “We cannot wait. She’s in immediate danger.” She paced, trailing droplets of water in her wake. “We must come up with another solution. We know where she’s held. Perhaps we can confront the staff and demand they release her.”
The School for Brides Page 19
