Unease trickled through her, but she tried to shake off the feeling. Her brother had always accused her of having an overactive imagination, and she knew it was true. Since she was a little girl, she had made up stories about gypsies, pirates, or enchanted forests where fairies lived among the ferns. In her imagination, everything was perfect: fathers didn’t have fits of anger, throw valuable vases against walls, or barricade themselves in their chambers for days on end.
As the walkway became more crowded, Jonathan drew her to his side. They maneuvered around gentlemen, merchants, members of the servant class, and the occasional lady with her escort. Eve turned to motion Alice closer and caught another glimpse of the man with the watch. He met her eyes, then veered toward a vendor’s cart, turning his back as he inspected the goods. There was nothing remarkable in his appearance, nothing familiar about him.
Jonathan urged her along. “I’ve spotted a hack at the next intersection.”
Eve saw it too and hurried her step to keep up with him, but Alice fell behind again. “Sir Jonathan.” She released his arm, intending to go back for her maid, and discovered the same man only several feet away. Was he following them? “Sir Jonathan, do you know that man? I think he is following us.”
“Where?” Jonathan was searching straight ahead.
“Right there!”
The man grimaced when she pointed at him, then dashed into the street, darting between a carriage and wheeled cart crawling along the congested street.
“He is following us.”
“Where is he?” Jonathan spun around, his shoulder knocking her bonnet askew.
“In the street. Dressed in gray.” She reached to adjust the brim so she could see which way he went.
“I don’t see him.” Jonathan whirled again and sent her sprawling into Alice’s arms. She and her maid hugged each other to keep from falling, and Eve’s bonnet brim slipped lower over her eyes.
“Miss Thorne.” Alice’s voice trembled. “What is happening?”
“I don’t know.” Eve managed to right herself and adjust her bonnet in time to see Jonathan spin again and nearly trip a soldier with his cane. The stout man stumbled forward and bumped into his fellow soldier. They hurled curses at Jonathan, clearly unhappy with him and his cane.
The larger soldier marched toward him, red-faced and almost foaming from the mouth. “Watch where you be swinging that blasted walking stick before I stick it up yer—”
“Oh dear!” Eve rushed forward to insert herself between the men, but in a flash, Jonathan had her behind him.
“A lady is present,” Jonathan said with a snarl. “Stand down, mangold.”
The note of danger in his tone made her shiver, even as his insult made her want to laugh. Wasn’t a mangold a type of beet? She peeked around Jonathan to see the soldier’s face did in fact border on purple like a beet, but the color was quickly draining from his cheeks.
“Yes, sir.” Both men backed away, their postures submissive. They reminded her of hounds tucking tail.
“Apologize to the lady.”
“Sorry, miss,” the men mumbled before bolting away.
Jonathan turned to face her. “Are you all right? Did they frighten you?”
She blinked up at him, confused by the paradox he presented. Sweet bumbling man by day. Dangerous adversary by…well, also by day. “I was not frightened.”
He blew out a breath. “Well, that makes one of us. I am still shaking. See?” He held out a trembling hand, then made a fist and pressed it against his thigh. “Please don’t place yourself in danger again, Miss Thorne. It requires me to be brave, and I am not certain my nerves can handle it.”
She bit down on her lip rather than blurt out she wouldn’t have been in any danger if he were more careful with his cane. The poor man was shaken enough by the encounter. “I am sorry, but I wasn’t thinking. I won’t do it again.” Although she didn’t know how she would keep her promise if he continued to land them in situations not of her doing.
“Splendid.” He sported a crooked grin. “Now, allow me to hail a hack.” He stepped toward the street as a weathered carriage bumped along the rutted thoroughfare and waved his hand in the air to gain the driver’s attention. After securing a ride and handing Eve and her maid into the carriage, he claimed the opposite seat.
Now that they were safely on their way, it was hard to believe they had been in danger moments earlier. Jonathan could have gotten himself severely injured or killed. She raised her eyebrows in his direction. “A beet, sir?”
“A Beta vulgaris, if we wish to employ the proper name.” He chuckled and lifted his shoulders in a sheepish shrug. “I couldn’t think of anything more fitting. I am not as quick-witted as some, I’m afraid.”
No, she supposed he wasn’t, but it was a rather disappointing discovery. He was intelligent and well-read. Usually witty went hand in hand with those characteristics. She sank against the seat back, her smile fading.
Three weeks earlier, she thought she knew everything she needed to know about Jonathan, but recently she felt as if she didn’t know him at all. He had become even more absorbed in his work, less thoughtful, and now she was discovering he wasn’t even as clever as she had assumed. It might seem like a petty thing to some, but she had always appreciated a man with superior wit. What if there were other things she hadn’t learned about her betrothed? Perhaps more troubling habits or traits he kept hidden?
She tilted her head slightly to study him. He caught her eye and grinned, but there was something different about his smile. She couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was, but he truly lit up again as soon as the hack rolled to a stop in front of the museum. As they strolled arm in arm past the fountains en route to the north entrance, he resumed his chattiness.
Alice gasped softly when they reached a nude statue.
“It is something to see, is it not?” Jonathan asked her maid.
“Aye, sir.” A furious blush consumed Alice’s face. “Never seen anything like it.”
When they reached the foot of the stairs leading into the majestic Montagu House, Jonathan linked arms with Alice, too, and helped her navigate the steps. Eve warmed in response to his thoughtful gesture. Perhaps earlier she had just experienced a case of nerves. Their wedding was only a week and a half away. Surely it was common for some brides to have doubts.
Just inside the museum doors, Alice released a delighted cry as her head dropped back to view the ceiling, which had been painted like a blue sky. “I’ve never seen anything as grand. Where did they find a long enough paintbrush, do you suppose?”
As Jonathan gave his name to the porter, Eve tried to explain the process for creating murals on ceilings, citing what she knew about Michelangelo’s Sistine Chapel. Eve hadn’t seen the actual ceiling in Rome, but Sebastian had, and she’d read about how the masterpiece had been created.
A moment later, an under-librarian came down the stairwell to greet them. “Sir Jonathan, what an honor to have you and your guests with us today. Mr. Hillary has already arrived. Please, come this way.”
Eve snapped her head toward Jonathan, her heart floundering. “Mr. Hillary is here?”
He took her hand to thread it through the crook of his elbow. “I mentioned the lecture when we left Thorne Place the other day. He expressed interest, so I thought it would be rude to exclude him.” As they neared a small doorway, Jonathan said, “I find I like Mr. Hillary. Perhaps you should give him another chance.”
Eve stopped in the corridor and frowned at him. “I do not understand you, sir.”
He patted her hand. “I find that is most often the case with everyone. Do not let it trouble you.” Without allowing her another word, he dropped her hand and entered the room ahead of her.
She exchanged a perplexed glance with Alice, then followed. Jonathan had already located Ben sitting in the back row and was whispering with
him.
“I would be honored,” Ben replied. Her insides quivered when he stood and graced her with a smile.
“Excellent.” Jonathan slapped him on the back. “Miss Thorne, I have asked Mr. Hillary to provide you company while I prepare for my lecture. Come, there is room enough for you and your maid.”
Ben’s jaw hardened as his eyes narrowed at Jonathan. Her heart sank. Didn’t Ben want to keep her company? Not that she wanted his companionship either. At least, not a great deal. “Hackberry, you forgot to ask Miss Thorne if she wishes to spend the afternoon in my company. Perhaps she would rather—”
“I don’t mind.”
The hint of a dimple appeared in Ben’s right cheek. “That is a relief, Miss Thorne.” He came forward to offer his arm. She hesitated, not certain touching him would be wise. After their brief contact when she twisted her ankle, she had been preoccupied with thoughts of him for days. It was unseemly for a betrothed young woman to ponder what it would be like to kiss her former love.
Would his lips be as soft as they once were?
Would he cradle her head with his strong yet gentle hands?
Would he angle her mouth just right, his kiss tasting slightly of mint?
“Miss Thorne?” Ben’s voice jarred her from her memories. “Would you like to find a seat? The lecture will begin soon.”
Jonathan’s back was to them, and he was halfway to the lectern already.
Heat swept over her. “Please,” she murmured and reached to touch Ben’s arm, knowing every time she gave in to temptation, it would be that much harder to banish him from her dreams.
Twelve
Ben’s awareness of Eve on the seat beside him eclipsed everything in the lecture room. He was in tune to every breath she took, the faint scent of her soap, the heat of her body filling the space between them even as she sat at the far edge of her chair to create distance.
He ached to touch her. Nothing too conspicuous. Just the casual brush of their arms or a surreptitious stroke of his finger against her inner wrist. But she was no longer his to touch. Ben reminded himself of this many times a day, but it didn’t feel true no matter how often he repeated it. He folded his hands in his lap to keep from acting on the impulse.
Hackberry didn’t believe he had made any progress with discouraging Eve. Ben was uncertain that was true. The way her pert nose wrinkled when Hackberry rushed off to the lectern without bidding her farewell spoke volumes. She was not pleased. Ben simply hoped her displeasure was directed at Hackberry only.
Encouraging Eve to toss over Hackberry was only half the battle, though. Ben needed to get back in her good graces if he hoped to win her heart again, and he needed to proceed carefully. If he overstepped his bounds, Eve would have nothing more to do with him. Her conscience wouldn’t allow her to give in to temptation and make a cuckold of Hackberry, so until she cried off, Ben must practice patience.
There would be plenty of time to court Eve once Hackberry was no longer a threat. With only a week and a half left until the wedding, however, Hackberry needed to step up his efforts. Ben suspected he wasn’t trying hard enough, or else Eve didn’t want to see Hackberry’s faults.
At the conclusion of the lecture, Hackberry chose a seat at the front of the room instead of joining them. A long stretch of quiet followed as another gentleman with slicked-down hair shuffled through his papers at the lectern, his lips moving as if he was mumbling to himself. Ben soon lost interest in the goings-on at the front of the room.
Eve turned her head and caught him staring at her. Her tentative smile made his pulse quicken. It had been too long since she had looked on him with anything resembling pleasure. She leaned to whisper in his ear. “I think Alice is getting antsy.”
Peeking around Eve, Ben discovered the maid nibbling on her fingernails. He placed his mouth close to Eve’s ear and whispered back, “I could arrange a tour if you think she would prefer to view the exhibits.”
A slight quiver traveled through her. “Yes.” Her voice had a wispy quality to it that made him smile. “I believe she would enjoy a tour. M-may I join you?”
His smile grew and he held out his hand. “Shall we?” When she placed her hand in his, it required all his willpower not to gloat over this small victory.
The three of them slipped through the door as quietly as possible before the next lecturer began. He believed Hackberry would forgive their defection. In fact, he had been agreeable about the whole situation, which made him a bigger man than Ben. At first, Ben believed Hackberry’s willingness to step aside was the act of a greedy man obsessed with his studies, but Ben didn’t think that was true anymore. He seemed genuinely concerned for Eve’s welfare and interested in her happiness, which only made Hackberry’s decision more puzzling.
After their dance lesson, the poor man had looked miserable. He’d lamented giving Eve flowers that made her sneeze and causing her to become hurt during the waltz. Ben had tried to reassure him that despite being a horrid dancer, Hackberry wasn’t responsible. Ben blamed himself. Even though he had known his presence made her uncomfortable, he had positioned himself where she couldn’t avoid seeing him. Eve’s injury was the result of being distracted and troubled by his presence. He was pleased she seemed more comfortable with him today.
“Wait here.” Ben left Eve and her maid at the top of the stairs while he went to speak with the porter about locating a guide to show them around the museum. After they exchanged introductions with an older gentleman joining their group for the tour, the under-librarian led them to the upper floor where the insect exhibit was housed. Ben expected insects would hold little appeal for the women, but Alice seemed enraptured as their guide pointed out the different species and shared facts about the insect life cycle. When the under-librarian invited them to follow him to the worm exhibit, Alice was on his heels.
Ben and Eve hung back, walking at a sedate pace. She watched her maid with a soft smile, then linked her arm with his. “I’ve never seen Alice this excited about anything. I should allow her to accompany me on outings more often. Thank you for suggesting a tour.”
“It was my pleasure.” His voice sounded husky, and he cleared his throat. “Has she been to Vauxhall Gardens?”
Eve shook her head. “But that is a marvelous idea. I always loved dining outdoors and the orchestra. I haven’t been in ages, not since—”
A becoming blush gave color to her cheeks and her freckles nearly disappeared. Not since their courtship two years earlier when Ben had taken her and stolen a kiss on one of the winding paths? That was the first time he’d said he loved her.
“I, too, have fond memories of the gardens,” he murmured. Her blush deepened to a dark rose color, and she changed the subject.
“Did Amelia relay my thanks for the flowers?” she asked.
“She did. I hope it was acceptable to send them with my sister-in-law.” Ben had felt awful about the daisies too, and he’d tried to erase the mistake with a dozen pink peonies and best wishes for a speedy recovery. Since he couldn’t send flowers to a lady he wasn’t allowed to court, he had requested Amelia’s assistance in delivering them.
“It was a lovely gesture, but unnecessary,” Eve said. “My injury was nothing serious, but the flowers lifted my spirits. Peonies have always been my favorite.”
“I remembered.”
She drew to a stop; a small crease appeared between her brows. “How is it we have been apart for two years and you recall my favorite flower, but Sir Jonathan—” She shook her head. “No, this is not an appropriate topic for conversation.”
When she tried to walk away, Ben caught her hand. “Evie,” he said softly. “You may talk to me.” At one time, she had shared everything with him—her doubts, her dreams, her family secrets. He had shared everything with her as well. She was the only person he’d ever talked to about Charlotte’s accident.
She worked her han
d free and crossed her arms. “But I shouldn’t. It is not proper to air dirty laundry in public.”
He gestured to the empty room. “There is no one around to eavesdrop. If you need someone to listen… Once, we were friends too, were we not?”
“We were.” Her lips turned down. “But we were also more, which makes it wrong that I should turn to you.” Her protest sounded weak.
He suspected she wanted to confide in him, but pressing the issue would send her running again. He waited patiently while she wrestled with whether she could allow him to become her confidant again. She pressed her lips tightly together as if struggling to contain her words. Eventually, she lost the battle.
“Promise you will not assign this more meaning than it has. I am marrying Sir Jonathan. I have given my word; a contract exists between us. My course has been set.”
“I know.” He cleared his throat. “I promise to assign no unintended meaning to anything you confide in me.”
“All right.” She brushed a wisp of hair from her forehead, her gaze wary. “Lately I have begun to wonder how well I really know my betrothed, or how well he knows me.”
“What do you mean?”
“He doesn’t know my favorite flower, or what color I prefer, or even how I take my tea. And yet I suspect you do.”
Ben smiled. “Emerald. Cream, no sugar.”
Eve nodded, a soft glow emanating from her dark brown eyes. “I do not hold Sir Jonathan at fault. I do not know much about him either, other than he is uncommonly preoccupied with drums, and Athena lately. Oh, and his favorite ice, but I have a ten-year-old to thank for that information. He doesn’t offer much without prompting.” Her chuckle had a self-deprecating quality to it, and a pink blush dusted her cheeks. “I sound silly, don’t I?”
“I’ve never thought you were silly, Evie.” If that was all she truly knew about her betrothed, it wasn’t much.
She threaded her fingers together and pressed her hands against her chest as if praying. “I realize how Sir Jonathan likes his steak or the title of his favorite book seem trivial, things I could discover once we are wed. Still, I cannot help wondering if we are walking down the aisle too soon. We don’t know the smallest details about each other, which makes me worry there could be bigger, more important facts we don’t know either.”
Best of Both Rogues Page 10
