“Well, that was disappointing,” Margrave said and lowered his lean frame into the vacant chair next to Daniel.
Ben pinched the bridge of his nose. “Christ,” he said on a breath. What had Eve been thinking when she accepted Hackberry’s proposal? Surely she realized she was betrothed to a dolt. As his wife, either she would die of boredom or chronic embarrassment.
“What are you doing, Ben?” Daniel asked. “Spying on Miss Thorne’s fiancé serves what purpose? She has made her choice.”
Ben squared his jaw and met his brother’s stare. “I intend to change her mind. You heard the investigator’s report. Hackberry is all wrong for Evie.”
“Is that so? And you were able to determine his suitability from a list of activities?”
“Yes. Yes, I was.” Ben circled his desk, dropped into his chair, and retrieved his quill to finish his recordings in the ledger. In his mind, the matter was settled. His brother and friend could see themselves out.
Daniel cleared his throat. Ben’s quill kept moving.
“Ahem!” Daniel stood and planted his hand in the middle of Ben’s page.
Gritting his teeth, Ben looked up at his brother looming in front of his desk.
“How?” Daniel’s eyes were wide with curiosity, no longer mocking him. “How do you know he is wrong for Miss Thorne?”
Ben dropped his quill on the desk. “For twenty-four hours there wasn’t a single activity listed that showed he thought of Miss Thorne once. No lingering over the bonnets at the milliner shop. No box of her favorite sweets. He didn’t even call on her, and he chose to retire early rather than escorting her to whatever event she attended.”
“Ah.” Daniel nodded, discarding his glass on Ben’s desk. “And a day is too long for any man to go without calling on his lady if the heart is involved.”
“Exactly, which is the reason Miss Thorne cannot marry Hackberry.” Ben pretended not to notice Margrave rolling his eyes.
Daniel said nothing for a moment, as if mulling over the situation. He crossed his arms and his scowl returned. “How are we planning to stop her?”
“We?”
“You know putting our heads together reaps the best results.”
Ben smiled. Perhaps Daniel was correct. His assistance could come in helpful. “First of all, Hackberry should be added to your wife’s guest list. Just Hackberry. What I have in mind requires privacy, and I wouldn’t want Evie catching wind of our conversation.”
“I wouldn’t miss this for the world,” Margrave said with a grin. “No need for your lady wife to issue an invitation, Daniel. You may let her know I’m available.”
“She will be relieved, I am sure.”
Eight
Eve wasn’t testing Sir Jonathan. Truly, it had not entered her thoughts when she’d asked if Gracie could join them on their stroll through Hyde Park. Nevertheless, Eve found herself studying her fiancé’s interactions with the young girl and comparing him to Ben and the baby boy at Woodmore Foundling Home.
She had never seen a man hold a baby, much less serenade and dance with one. It piqued her curiosity about fatherhood in general, but especially about what type of father Jonathan might become—the type of father she suspected Ben would be.
Gracie walked ahead a few paces as they headed back home, twirling her parasol. “Sir Jonathan, what is your favorite flavored ice?”
This was her fourth question in a row, and Eve imagined Jonathan was tiring of supplying answers to the girl’s trivial questions. When Eve slanted a look at him, however, he sported the same affable grin he always wore.
“Another excellent question, Miss Gracie. Allow me to think on it a moment.” His smile broadened, and he winked when he caught Eve’s eye.
Warm affection filled her heart. Jonathan was a good man. He would make a decent husband and father. And someday she expected she would come to love him. Perhaps not as much as she had loved Ben two years ago, but at age nineteen she had been prone to mawkishness. Now she was prepared for a more mature type of love, one of admiration and companionship. She was making the right decision in forgetting about Ben and moving forward with her life.
Her throat grew tight, and the necklace she wore seemed heavier all of a sudden. She touched Ben’s parting gift, wondering what had possessed her to pull it from her jewel box and don it this morning.
“Burnt filbert,” Jonathan announced at last.
“Ew!” Gracie spun around, walking backward for a couple of steps, her face screwed up in a show of disgust. “Burnt filbert smells awful. How can it be your favorite ice?”
Jonathan shrugged. “Have you ever tasted it?”
Gracie shook her head before spinning back around to see where she was going.
“Then you cannot make an informed decision. You must give something a chance before declaring it all wrong for you. Do you like burnt filbert, Miss Thorne?”
“Not especially, I’m afraid.” She cleared her throat. “Sir Jonathan is correct, however. One must give something a chance in order to form an opinion.”
Jonathan tossed a satisfied smile in her direction, and she tried to ignore the sinking feeling in her stomach. She had been perfectly content with Jonathan before Ben arrived at her betrothal ball, and ever since their conversation at the foundling hospital, she had been unable to think of anything else.
Why had she listened to his claim of having come back for her on their wedding day? It was a lie. Sebastian would never keep them apart. Her brother knew how much she had loved Ben.
Ask him. Eve knew she should question her brother, but trepidation kept her from broaching the subject with Sebastian. If he confirmed Ben’s account, where did that leave her? Them? She was promised to another man, and she couldn’t break her word, especially when Jonathan had done nothing to displease her.
Then there was the question of how she would ever forgive Sebastian for his interference. She adored her older brother and abhorred the idea of anything coming between them. Perhaps it was best if she remained in the dark since his answer wouldn’t change the past or her future.
Ask him, the voice whispered in her head. She pushed the thought aside. Now wasn’t the time to dwell on the past. She wanted to enjoy Jonathan’s company. They hadn’t spent time together since their betrothal ball. He had sent his regrets yesterday, canceling their plans for a picnic in the park.
Jonathan claimed correspondence and reconciling his accounts were keeping him busy, but she suspected he was engrossed in his studies and used his business as an excuse. She should be very cross with him, but in truth, she had needed the time to sort through her feelings about Ben.
As they neared Thorne Place, Gracie raced ahead and bounded up the stairs to disappear inside.
“Would you like to take refreshment?” Eve’s invitation was a habit of courtesy.
Jonathan stopped on the walkway and turned to face her. His eyebrows shot up on his forehead. “Would you like me to accept, Miss Thorne?”
She forced a smile. “Why would I ask if I did not?”
“Why indeed?” Apparently he didn’t expect an answer and offered his escort inside.
In the foyer, Eve surrendered her bonnet and parasol to Milo, then requested the butler arrange for a tray of tea and sandwiches to be delivered to the drawing room.
“Yes, miss.”
Jonathan followed suit, handing over his hat, and trailed behind her. As a betrothed couple, they were allowed some liberties, such as relative privacy and an innocent touch. Eve left the door open wide and chose a chair across from the settee. Jonathan paused, his gaze passing back and forth between the chair next to Eve and the settee. Eventually he sat on the settee, facing her.
Eve folded her hands in her lap and tried not to stare at the lock of hair sticking up on his head from him removing his hat. Her fingers itched to set him back to rights, but touching him in
such a way would feel too intimate. When she stopped to consider the length of time they had known each other, she realized they were barely acquainted. She and Ben met four months before he proposed, which seemed like a lifetime in comparison.
Jonathan propped his elbow on the armrest and aimed a puzzled frown in her direction. “Miss Thorne, might I make an observation without overstepping my bounds?”
“How am I to answer when I have no notion of what it is you have observed?”
“Fair enough.” He nodded slowly as if considering how to proceed. “Then perhaps an apology will be in order after I speak freely anyway. You seem different today, and I’ve wondered if I might be the cause.”
She sat up straighter, her heart skipping. “Different? How so?” Her troubled thoughts couldn’t show on her face.
He leaned forward to rest his forearms on his knees and scrutinized her. “You seem less lively, quite unlike yourself. Have I done something to upset you?”
“Heavens, no!” Her hand flew to her chest, her fingers grazing the warm metal of the necklace.
His gaze seemed drawn to her neck. He sat up and inclined his head. “Is that a new piece of jewelry? I haven’t noticed you wearing it before.”
She enclosed the pendant in her palm as if to shield it from view. “No, it’s nothing special. Just a trinket from an old friend.”
“May I see?” Without waiting for permission, he left his seat to crouch in front of her. She swallowed hard, debating how she would answer if he asked for her friend’s name. “I am sure I’ve seen one like it in my travels.”
Eve slowly uncurled her fingers with a shaky sigh. His interest was simply a matter of curiosity. To him, the necklace was nothing but an artifact for study. To her, it had been a promise—one Ben had broken when he stayed in Delhi and never wrote to her. Even a short letter to tell her that he would not be returning would have sufficed, although she would have been crushed. She’d held on to the hope that he would come back much longer than she should have.
Not even the kindhearted Mr. Cooper had been able to convince her to move forward with her life in their weekly conversations. When she learned the chaplain had written to Ben imploring him to return because he was worried for her, Eve had felt betrayed and angry. One glimpse into the man’s sorrowful eyes, and she knew Mr. Cooper had intervened with the best intentions. If she had expected Ben to grant Mr. Cooper’s request, perhaps she wouldn’t have been so quick to accept Jonathan’s offer for her hand.
That’s unfair. Jonathan had an endearing quality about him. He wasn’t Ben, but that was to his credit. Unclasping the necklace, she placed it in her betrothed’s upturned hand. He held it closer for inspection then traced the three round yellow stones with the tip of his finger before sliding the black pearls through his hand.
“Beautiful,” he murmured. “Excellent artistry. This is an expensive trinket.”
She lifted one shoulder in a noncommittal shrug. “It is nice, but it means nothing to me.”
He held it out to her, his mouth curving into a half smile. “In some parts of India, the groom gives such a necklace to his bride to symbolize their lasting bond.”
“I wasn’t aware, but how fascinating.” She retrieved the necklace, shoved it into the crack between the cushion and chair, then smiled brightly. “Have you studied Indian culture?”
“My early studies involved Brahmanism.” That was all the invitation Jonathan needed to return to the settee and launch into tales of his time at various archaeological sites during his childhood. When his father was alive, archaeology was Sir Reginald Hackberry’s passion, and he dragged his wife and son to all the dusty places of the world, passing on his love for antiquities to Jonathan.
Eve’s heart beat a little faster when he talked of his life abroad. It all sounded intriguing and exciting. Perhaps she would like to see these places too. “Do you wish to follow your father’s example and involve your own son in your work someday?”
“No.” All traces of lightheartedness vanished. “What I do is too dangerous for a family. I would never place my wife and children at risk.”
Her breath caught at his answer. That he would abandon his first love for her and their future family created a lovely tingle along her skin. “You love your work, Jonathan. Can you truly give it up?”
He screwed his mouth to the side as if contemplating her question. Eventually, he exhaled, almost deflating on the settee. “That has been my intention since returning to England and seeking a wife, but I cannot say if I will be able to remain here always.”
Eve’s jaw dropped. She wanted to demand he tell her why not. What call was there for him to leave their homeland, other than his silly obsession with drums and sacred dances and trancelike states? His was a boy’s fascination. It wouldn’t do for him to run off in order to satisfy his whims while leaving her behind. It wouldn’t do at all.
He flashed a broad smile. “Now don’t fret, dearest. I have no desire to leave you.”
She didn’t return his smile. Having no desire to leave was not the same as promising to stay.
Milo preceded a footman with a tray into the drawing room and instructed the man to place it on the low table. “Will there be anything else, miss?”
Eve didn’t trust herself to speak, so she simply shook her head. Jonathan helped himself to tea and a sandwich, then nattered on about his day. When there was no more mention of leaving England, Eve began to settle, and half an hour later, she had almost forgiven him for making her worry.
Once they finished their refreshments, Eve rose from her seat to see him out. He held her hand and placed a chaste kiss on her cheek as they reached the drawing room door. “I’m sorry for what I said earlier. I truly didn’t mean to upset you. Forgive me?”
Her back lost its rigidness and she smiled softly. “Of course. I realize it must be an adjustment to go from well-traveled bachelor to husband. I promise to allow you more leeway in the future.”
“Thank you, Miss Thorne. For my part, I will try to do better. Is there a way I might make up for my gaffe?”
She squeezed his hand. “You may sign my dance card at Almack’s tonight.”
He winced. “I forgot tonight was Almack’s.”
“You forgot?” She dropped his hand. “It is but one night of the week.”
He raked his fingers through his hair, leaving his light brown waves standing on end. “Yes, about that… I’ve received an invitation to speak on Mesopotamia this evening.”
Eve crossed her arms, tapping the toe of her slipper against the floor as she bit her tongue.
“Miss Thorne, I… The invitation…” A scarlet flush spread up his face. “I am sorry. I did not think. I was flattered anyone would find me fascinating enough to warrant an invitation based on my own merits. Lady Norwick has been kind enough to assist me these last few weeks, but…”
She knew what it was like to be excluded, although that did not excuse his forgetfulness. She really wanted to dance, blast it all. No more standing on the sidelines wishing her fiancé would ask her to stand up with him. And she certainly couldn’t go around woolgathering about waltzing with Ben all the time. It wasn’t well done of her.
Eve sighed. “I hope you enjoy a pleasant evening, but make certain to get plenty of rest tonight, because tomorrow you will begin taking dance instruction.”
“Dance instruction? But I don’t dance.”
“Which is a problem,” she said, hands landing on her hips. “I need a dance partner. I don’t want to be one of those wives handed over for the young bachelors to entertain.”
Jonathan scowled. “Nor do I like the idea. Very well. Send around a message with the time and location, and I will be there.”
That was more like it.
Nine
Ben watched Sir Jonathan Hackberry through narrowed eyes as the man expounded on his most recent excavation alo
ng the Tigris prior to his return to England. His tales didn’t interest Ben as much as the feverish gleam in Hackberry’s eyes as he spoke. In Hackberry’s excitement, he clipped the rim of his wineglass, but he snatched it before it toppled and soaked Lisette’s table linens.
Ben was growing convinced the man’s passion was not vested in becoming Eve’s husband. He couldn’t accept that Eve would choose Hackberry.
“The man is a windbag,” Jake muttered.
Amelia, who sat between Ben and Jake, shushed him. “He will hear you,” she whispered.
“Over the sound of his own blathering? Doubtful.” Jake took his wife’s hand beneath the tablecloth, and she very nearly glowed when she smiled back at him.
Women in love were lit from within, and that was the essence of what was missing between Eve and Sir Windbag. The man didn’t make her glow.
Ben glanced around the table. Lisette’s hand rested lovingly on her stomach and a coy smile teased her lips when she met Daniel’s unwavering gaze at the opposite end of the table. Lana’s husband whispered in her ear and her eyes brightened. These unguarded moments between his siblings and their spouses strengthened Ben’s resolve to get rid of Hackberry. He wanted what his siblings had found, and he wanted it with Eve, even if he must do something unforgivable to achieve his desire.
Bugger. Grabbing his glass, he drained it. The wine burned in his gut as Hackberry droned on, happily thinking he was an honored guest this evening. Ben tried to believe he was doing the man a favor by offering him a way out of his betrothal, or that Eve would be grateful for Ben’s interference someday, but he had never been good at lying to himself.
When the last course was cleared, Lisette rose and everyone around the table followed suit. “Ladies, shall we retire to the drawing room?”
The women—Ben’s sisters-in-law, his mother, his sister, and Lisette’s cousin, Mrs. Serafine Tucker—exited the drawing room. Daniel set to the task of pouring brandy for the men and invited them to take a cheroot from the carved ebony box sitting on the sideboard.
Best of Both Rogues Page 7
