Harold nodded slowly, and his expression softened. It took years off his features. Nicholas realized then that they were probably close to the same age. He squelched a grin. Watching over Eva had been trying indeed, and the poor man was aging at an alarming rate.
“I have it on good authority that outrageous romantic gestures are the way into the heart of a woman,” Harold said, puffing out his cheeks. “I think I have just the thing to save you both from a lifetime of misery, Your Grace.”
Chapter Twenty-One
The day of the party at which the former courtesans would meet the men they’d selected began on a grim note when the weather conspired to ruin Eva’s plans to hold the gathering outside. However, by noon the sun had forced its way from behind the clouds and made a valiant effort to comply with her wishes. The fragrance of spring blooms sweetened the air.
The servants dried the chairs and benches and set up tables. Cook pressed the two maids into service as her helpers while the courtesans readied themselves with the help of Eva, Noelle, and Margaret.
“My stomach is fluttering,” Rose said as Noelle drew the ice blue day dress carefully over her head. Her red hair was pulled back and up with a few curls left to frame her face.
“I think I might be ill,” said Pauline, who did look pale.
Rose giggled. “Don’t get sick on your dress, dearest. You look too lovely to spoil the effect.”
Pauline stuck out her tongue. She was clad in pink satin and her blonde locks were braided and coiled atop her head. Sophie chose to wear lavender. The color and her happiness helped to take the hard edge off her face. Of all the women, she was the most desperate to find security.
Eva resisted the urge to remove her wig and spectacles. Though the courtesans knew the truth about her disguise and her desire to keep her two worlds separate, the suitors did not. She preferred to keep it that way.
She turned to Yvette, clad in red, and watched her hold earbobs up to her earlobes. Though Eva worried about her, she appeared to be outwardly well. As their eyes met in the mirror’s reflection, Yvette smiled softly. Eva went to the jewelry case and removed a pair of beaded black earbobs.
“Try these,” she said. Yvette put them on and nodded, satisfied with her reflection. She turned and took Eva by the hands, squeezing her fingers.
“Please don’t worry about me, Miss Eva.” She pulled Eva into a tight hug, and Eva felt her tremble. “This is a day of happiness,” Yvette whispered. “I will have it no other way.”
Eva held her for a moment longer and blinked back tears. If she had to drag every unattached man from Northumberland to Dover into this town house, and parade them before Yvette until she found her perfect match, she would do so gladly. She desperately wanted to see Yvette happy.
“Then I think we should ready ourselves,” Eva said, and pulled back with a smile. She encompassed the entire clutch of former courtesans with her sweeping gaze. “We have just over a dozen men arriving shortly. We should not make them wait.” She stretched out her hands, and they all came together. “I have confidence you will each charm someone today. And if you do not find a match, I will keep trying until you do.” Tears welled. “I am so proud of all of you. You are courtesans no more.”
They hugged, sniffled, laughed, and then headed downstairs just as two packed coaches finished unloading their passengers at the garden gate. When the men were assembled, Eva led the ladies outside and introductions began. When she finished, she stepped back and positioned herself discreetly off to the side with Noelle and Margaret, watching the women. It wasn’t long before the young women were mingling with their potential suitors.
Middle-aged and young, charming and shy, the men were a collection from all aspects of life. Since Margaret had taken herself out of the group, the men greatly outnumbered the women. But Eva had promised them wives, and there was always the next batch of courtesans to choose from.
“They all look pleased,” Noelle whispered as several men circled bubbly Rose and she laughed heartily at some jest. Pauline and Sophie each had two suitors, and Yvette was speaking with a rather stuffy-looking man with a sizable mustache. A few suitors held back, waiting for an opening. Mr. Reed, a handsome solicitor of thirty, peered over his spectacles at Yvette from a distance.
“I think Yvette has caught someone’s eye,” Eva said to Noelle, indicating the man with a slight tip of her head. “I might need to push them together.” The three sisters shared a smile.
The day went smoothly except for a small skirmish between Mister Rhoades, a shopkeeper, and Mister Tipton, a painter, over who would bring cake to Rose. Eva got between them and explained that if they didn’t behave, they would have to leave and would be taken out of her book. They quickly settled. Everyone knew that once Miss Eva took you out of her book, you were never invited back. Harold had vanished right after bringing the men, and Eva hadn’t seen him all afternoon. She knew how difficult it was for him to spend time in Margaret’s company, and her in his. It was nearing the end of the party when he finally made an appearance. And what an appearance it was.
Eva, Noelle, and Margaret gawked as he walked into the garden, carrying a huge vase filled with a colorful explosion of mixed flowers. The immense arrangement all but blocked much of his upper torso and head. But when he lowered the vase to the ground beside the stunned Margaret, and dropped to one knee, Eva was able to fully appreciate the lengths to which he’d gone to impress her sister.
The cut and quality of his clothing rivaled that of His Grace, from his buff breeches to his snow-white shirt and cream cravat to the deep scarlet of his coat. His hair was neatly trimmed and his face clean-shaven. Eva almost didn’t recognize him.
“Harold?” she said, but the sharp intake of breath from Margaret stilled further comment. Eva and Noelle watched a glint of amusement dance in Margaret’s eyes.
He reached for Margaret’s hand. She slowly released her fingers, and he encompassed them in his large hands.
“Lady Margaret Abigail Louise Seymour, I know I have made mistakes in my life and have hurt some of the people for whom I have cared the most. None more than you.” He swallowed. “When I first saw you in the kitchen, while you were going over the menu with Mrs. Dunn, I was smitten. And my affection has grown every day since.” A single tear broke loose and flowed down Margaret’s face. “You would do me a great honor if you would consent to be my wife.”
Eva stood open-mouthed as she watched the proposal unfolding. Never once in the time she had known Harold had he ever strung so many words together, and certainly not with such eloquence. It had to be desperation that had changed his normally gruff exterior to that of a man unafraid to show his love. It was easy to see that love in his eyes when he gazed upon Margaret.
Noelle was similarly affected by his proposal. She and Eva gaped like a pair of fish, then simultaneously clapped their jaws shut with matching smiles. The former courtesans and suitors all stood silent as Margaret stared at Harold as if he had grown a second nose. Clearly she hadn’t expected such loving sentiment or such a grand and public proposal. Her face flushed pink.
“I—I . . .” She looked helplessly at her sisters. Eva and Noelle nodded. Margaret grinned and bent to put her free hand on his shoulder. “I will marry you, Harold.”
He quickly stood and pulled her into his arms. He spun her around, then dropped her back to her feet before giving her a brief and very loving kiss. Margaret turned a deep red as the party guests clapped and the three sisters hugged and shared whispered words of congratulations. When Harold finally tucked Margaret protectively against his side, Eva walked over to put a hand on his arm, her eyes swimming. He bent to her, and she lifted to her toes.
“I am so happy to welcome you into my family, Harold. I’ve always considered you my friend, and now you will be my brother.”
Harold pressed a kiss on her cheek and grimaced. “Someone has to watch over you three. Without supervision, you’ll get into all kinds of mischief.”
Eva laughed heartily. The day wa
s lovely indeed.
While Harold and Margaret moved among the guests, Eva and Noelle watched their laughing sister and her beaming groom-to-be. Though Eva wouldn’t have ever put the pair together, love was sometimes unexplainable. She knew this well. And sometimes it could not be returned. This was the affliction she suffered through every hour of every day. She knew rejecting His Grace was best for all, but it didn’t keep her heart from aching.
“Well, one courtesan has been matched,” Noelle said, smiling, and pulled Eva from her musing. She pointed to the solicitor, who was in deep conversation with Yvette. She was blossoming under the attention, and the wariness in her face had eased. “I think another is in the making.”
Eva wrinkled her nose. “Margaret was never a courtesan. You made up her history as a ruse. So I’m not sure that counts as a match.”
“Oh, but it does,” Noelle insisted. “If not for you, Harold would have spied for Mother and then returned to his home. Your friendship and this school brought Margaret and him back together, to this happy end.”
Perhaps she had matched them in an indirect way. Margaret and Harold would, of course, face the displeasure of Lady Seymour. However, Eva knew that between the two of them, and with Noelle encouraging the match, the woman stood no chance of breaking them apart.
Their discussion was interrupted by Mister Middleton. He was in his late twenties, owned a textile mill, and had a quick and charming smile. “May I speak to you, Miss Black?”
The seriousness of his tone lifted her brows. She nodded.
“I would like to ask for Miss Pauline’s hand.” He turned to face Pauline, and she inclined her head as if to offer encouragement. “I have a sizable house outside London with a full staff, and my business is doing well.” He paused and darted another warm glance at Pauline. “I believe I can offer Miss Pauline a pleasing future.”
This part was Eva’s favorite. For whatever reason, the men always asked her permission to marry, though the women were old enough to do as they wished. She looked at Pauline, who pleaded with her hazel eyes.
“You have my permission, Mister Middleton.” He let out an ear-piercing whoop and ran back to Pauline. He pressed a kiss on her cheek, and they spoke in low, excited tones. Within the hour and at the close of the party, not only were Pauline and Margaret matched, but Rose had whittled down her choices to two men, who would come separately to tea the following day so she could speak with them in a more private setting. Chaperoned, of course.
Mister Reed had proposed to Yvette, and she had told him she needed time to consider his offer. Eva thought it smart. After all Yvette had gone through of late, it was good to take some time to decide if he was what she really wanted. Eva suspected that in the end, her answer would be yes. He was a good and kind man; an ideal match for Yvette.
Sophie walked over after good-byes were completed, and Harold gathered the men to lead them to the coaches. She’d received two offers, but her heart wasn’t in them. “I don’t know what to do, Miss Eva. This is the first time in my life I feel free. I’m not certain I want to wed.” Her expression was apologetic. “Are you disappointed in me?”
Eva took her hand. “Not in the least. My goal at this school is not to force anyone to wed, but to offer husbands as a choice. What you do from here forward is your decision.”
Sophie’s expression fell. Clearly, she was torn over what to do. She’d always lived under the rules of her lovers. Freedom came with responsibilities. “I have no skills except what you taught me.” The lines around her eyes and mouth deepened as she fretted. “What other choices do I have?”
Eva pondered her plight for a moment as the coaches pulled away from the town house. A solution came to mind.
“I need someone to oversee this household, to organize the books, and to help with planning the weddings. The courtesans tend to arrive unannounced, and I am not always here to take their information. I cannot pay you much, but you will receive your room and board as well.”
A slow smile lit Sophie’s face. “I accept, Miss Eva. Thank you.” She hurried off to join the other women, and Eva took time to collect her thoughts. The party had been a success.
Tomorrow the final agreements would be made between the women and their suitors. For now, only rest.
Noelle must have seen her squelch a yawn. Her sister took charge of the maids and began the task of directing the cleanup. Eva sent her a grateful smile and returned to the house.
On her way to the privacy of the parlor, a knock sounded on the front door. Eva opened the oak panel and found a footman, dressed in His Grace’s livery, standing on the stoop with a note in his hand. The large ducal coach was waiting in the street.
“I have a missive for Miss Black.”
Eva wanted to refuse delivery of the note and slam the door closed. However, she was both curious and a bit alarmed over what the envelope might contain. It had been almost a week since she’d left the duke under Harold’s care. She worried that Nicholas might have taken a turn and died, despite Harold’s assurances that he was mending well.
“I am she.” She took the note and tore it open.
Get in the coach, Eva. Please.
The note was simple and direct, just like Nicholas. He expected her to obey his wishes without question. This time, though, he did say please. It was a change from his usual barking out orders and expecting everyone around him to jump.
Eva tapped the note against her chin and pondered the plea. The footman stood politely and waited. Nicholas, His Grace; a flood of emotion washed over her as his handsome face filled her mind. She missed him dreadfully. The cowardly course would be to lock the door and be done with all this. But Eva was no coward. She wanted to see him one last time.
She wanted one last good-bye kiss.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Eva was alarmed when, instead of traveling to his town house, the coach sped out of London. She tried to get the attention of the driver, but the man appeared deaf to her pleas. Not desiring to jump from the coach and risk injury, she jerked off her itchy wig and spectacles and settled back against the leather squabs to stew.
If he thought kidnapping her would keep her from cutting him from her life, he was sorely mistaken. She’d made her decision, and wouldn’t change it because he bullied her to do so. Once he was in her sights, she planned to give him a set down that would set his ears ringing.
What seemed like hours had passed when the coach slowed to make a sharp right turn off the road. She looked out the window and saw a winding drive lined with trees and a perfectly cut lawn that spread as far as she could see.
There was a familiarity about the place, yet she was certain she’d never been here before. Then the recognizable spire atop Highland Abbey came into view over the treetops.
She gasped. Why would His Grace bring her to the place where he’d almost died? He couldn’t be so desperate to control her that he’d lock her in the same dark room where the mad lord had imprisoned Yvette. Or could he? He’d been vengeful before. Was it such a stretch to believe he could be so again?
Worry twisted through her as the coach drew to a halt before the abbey and the footman opened the door. She knew refusing to alight wouldn’t keep His Grace from having her dragged out. She accepted the young man’s assistance and warily climbed down.
In daylight, the abbey was magnificent; a stone and glass monolith that took her breath away. There wasn’t a hint of the evil hanging over the abbey that she’d felt the night of the rescue. Without the earl casting his malevolent shadow, she could appreciate the ancient building for the treasure it was.
“Don’t look so frightened, Eva.” The familiar voice spun her about. His Grace walked up the drive from the direction of an outbuilding. Aside from his white shirt, he wore all black, a savage figure befitting the backdrop of the carved stonework of the abbey.
His face, his frame, his confident arrogance sent shivers of need down her body and took her breath. She had to fight to hold on to her anger, when wh
at she wanted was to drag him inside the coach and beg him to take liberties with her feverish body.
“Why have you brought me here, Your Grace?” she asked with forced disdain. Even with the narrow distance between them, she caught the light whiff of his scent on the breeze. It frolicked dangerously through her emotions. “I’m certain the earl’s heirs won’t appreciate our trespassing while they are in mourning. They have recently suffered a loss.”
He ignored her comment and hooked her arm under his. “Don’t worry, Eva love.” He grinned and led her toward the entrance and its large rounded doors. “All traces of the earl and his nest of rats have been removed, and the linen’s burned. There is no one here to protest our arrival.”
They were alone? “You understand there are witnesses to my kidnapping?” she asked tightly. “Eventually Harold and my sisters will worry and search for me. They are a determined lot. You won’t get away with keeping me captive for long.”
Nicholas stopped and stared. “You think this is about kidnapping you and forcing my will?” He chuckled, and his lids crinkled at the corners. “You are a delight, Miss Winfield.”
His humor rankled, and Eva’s anger rose. “I shouldn’t have gotten into the coach. I did so against my better judgment.”
He lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss on her knuckles. His green eyes drew her in, and for a moment she lost herself in their depths. She was so aware of him, of his sensuous appeal. Images of his lips on her, his hands caressing her flesh, made her ache to pull him into a shadowed corner of the abbey and lift her skirts.
“I hope that by the close of this evening, you will not regret your decision to join me.” He led her inside.
She was struck by how different the abbey appeared in daylight and how the rays of sunlight spiraled through the stained glass windows in a wash of vibrant color that spilled over the walls and floor. It was like being inside a rainbow.
The School for Brides Page 26
