The Duke's Temptation

by Raven McAllan

  As he walked down the street, Gibb realized the nearest hackney stance would be busy with peers who wanted to be taken on to their next port of call, plus people who had enjoyed the river and were now ready to make their way home. Hailing a cab would be nigh on impossible, so Shanks’ pony seemed the most likely conveyance. It was lucky he enjoyed walking, although he would prefer it to be over a grouse moor, not across the capital.

  Gibb had his swordstick, the area of town was well-lit and he had no worries for his safety. He turned away from the water and headed toward Whitehall. He hadn’t walked for more than ten minutes when the rumble of wheels from behind him assailed his ears. He stopped, turned and watched as a hackney drew to a halt, the horse placid and incurious. The coachman jerked his finger at the vehicle.

  “Told me ter stop, guv.”

  A newly familiar head poked through the window aperture. Evangeline looked at him and smiled. “May I suggest we share this hackney carriage, my lord? Judging by the throngs back there, all vying to gain admittance to the next one to come along empty, you will have a long walk before you find someone able to take you up. I have spare capacity as you can see, and unless you are going in a different direction to me I see no reason why not to share.”

  Gibb inclined his head and swung open the door. “Nor I. Bruton Street?”

  “Why yes, unless you wish to be dropped off somewhere on the way?”

  “Bruton Street still,” he told the jarvey as he stepped inside and closed the door behind him. Gibb sat on the squab opposite Evangeline and tapped on the roof with his swordstick. The vehicle lurched over the cobbles before it regained a steady rhythm and he was able to get a clear look at his companion. “You have been working?”

  “At a ladies’ soiree,” Evangeline said as she settled back in her seat. “Very select. The hostess was bemoaning the fact that all the eligible men seemed to be busy this week so she arranged a little entertainment for those poor debs who could not go on the hunt. My words, not hers. I do believe your name was mentioned, amongst some others.”

  Gibb groaned. “I wish the harpies would get it out of their mind that I am on the lookout for a bride. I have had one and I do not intend to have another.” He stretched his legs out in front of him and did his best to ignore the swift but admiring glance Evangeline gave him. He was neat and tidy but no Adonis. “I like my life as it is.”

  “They don’t see it that way,” Evangeline continued with a grin that was evident in her voice as well as in the dim lantern light. “I overheard one lady telling a young girl, who I believe was her daughter, that it was her duty to bring the Duke of Menteith back into the fold.”

  Argh. Gibb sat upright and leaned forward before he swore under his breath. “Never, no and if, if,” he stressed, “I ever did have to remarry it would not be to a simpering miss who was twenty-plus years younger than me and with no sensible thoughts between her ears. Good lord, I didn’t want that at twenty, why on earth would I at forty?” Madness. Pure unadulterated madness. “Who was it?” he demanded. “Then I can make sure I steer clear.”

  Evangeline patted his hand. “I don’t know. The girl was what I believe is known as an incomparable. Blonde ringlets, blue eyes, exceptional figure and a simper that defies description.”

  Gibb scanned his mind. “Thick ankles, no dress sense and a laugh that would strip the bark from a tree?”

  She inclined her head. “That’s the one. She was in dark sludge green with enough flounces to decorate every window in a good-sized house.”

  “Good lord, Felicity Lumley.” Gibb shook his head. “Grief, I’m almost a contemporary of her father. She’s just eighteen, silly as they come, and this is her first season. What are they thinking of?”

  “Your money?” Evangeline said in a dry manner. “Waiting to be spent.”

  He laughed bitterly. “More than likely. Thank you for the warning. I did wonder at the sudden flurry of invitations from certain ladies, but as I am friends with their husbands or sons, I was somewhat slow on the uptake. It is rare that I’m in London, and when I am I concentrate on Parliamentary business. This is taking longer than usual, hence, I suppose, the unwanted and unwarranted interest. No wonder several men have warned me off any event where the invitation is over gilded. The sooner I get away from the madness the better.”

  “You intend to return north soon?” Evangeline asked in what seemed a careful and cultivated tone. One designed not to convey her emotions on the subject.

  Gibb hesitated. “I had, but now I’m not so sure. I think it will be in both our best interests if I linger a while, and not hurry away. My estates are in good hands for a few weeks more, and I’m being adept at dodging the doting and eager mamas and their offspring. Harpies show their hands too easily for me not to be able to avoid them.”

  She bit her lip. “Please,” she said earnestly, “don’t stay on my account.”

  He tapped her nose with his index finger and she wrinkled it. “That tickles.”

  “Good. And remember, it is on my account that I choose to stop in the capital. I too desire a friend.”

  How could she forget? And how to answer without sounding needy, she had no idea. If there was one thing Evangeline was certain about, it was that dependence on him by her was the last thing Gibb wanted. She contemplated the toes of her half-boots as they peeped out from under her deep-blue velvet skirts, then looked at his carefully expressionless face.

  “Then, friend, are you coming in for a glass of wine, or carrying on with your journey?” The hackney had reached the corner of Bruton Street and the driver waited patiently to know what to do next.

  Gibb looked at her with a pensive expression. “What would you prefer?”

  She shrugged. “It is all of a one to me. We talk now and ride unencumbered with questions tomorrow, or we talk tomorrow and miss out on some of the freedom of our ride. The choice is yours.”

  He nodded and opened the door to assist her out. “Coachman, this will do.” He fished for a coin from his pocket and handed it over before Evangeline took his hand and let him help her down the steps.

  The coachman nodded his thanks at the largess Gibb had given him and urged his horse on. Gibb waited until the equipage turned the corner of Berkeley Square and gave his attention once more to his companion. “How do we get in?”

  “Down here.” Evangeline whisked him along a narrow alley where, she realized, he would be hard-pressed not to brush the dusty sides with his shoulders and the roof with his hat, and stopped in front of a green-painted door. It couldn’t be helped. “Through here. This way is easiest. Mind your head, I swear it was built for halflings.”

  She shot him a swift glance over her shoulder and watched as Gibb did as she bade him.

  “Why use it then?” he asked as he reached her side.

  “During the day I can share the front door with Eloise, but at this time of night I prefer not to disturb the night watchman.”

  He looked back along the dark passageway and tutted. “I think I’d prefer that you do, instead of coming down here in the early hours. Anyone could be waiting.”

  “Where?” She looked at him quizzically. “There are no bends, a very low roof, nowhere to hide, not even some loose brickwork. It is as safe as can be.”

  Gibb grimaced. “Behind the gate? I refuse to feel foolish because I am concerned about your welfare,” he declared firmly. “Crowe is not happy, and I will not want him to think you are easy prey. Anyone could be waiting here for you. Easy prey,” he said again. “Even you must be able to acknowledge that.”

  He was like a dog with a favorite bone. Had she not been told he thought of no one except in the abstract? Therefore this undoubted worry for her was unnecessary, not at all welcome, but strange and comforting.

  “I do not think it could happen,” she said, earnest as ever. “If anyone unknown comes down here by themselves the dogs will bark, I promise you. And if we are to be logical and think things through, I’m not easy prey, not anymore. It wi
ll soon be all over the ton that you are consorting with me, however hard we try to hide it. And that, given your reputation, will make me untouchable. So perhaps you’d better decide if it is what you want, my lord.”

  “Gibb,” he said. It was obvious he had no intention of being swayed by her protestations. “It is my name and I would be pleased to hear you use it.”

  “Gibb.” How easily it rolled off her tongue. “I do not want to turn your life upside down for no reason,” she said.

  “It will not be without reason,” he said. “I can promise you that.”

  Evangeline sighed. So, he intended to be as intransigent as he could? “Then come inside and we will have a glass of wine and discuss our situation.”

  * * * *

  “And to my surprise, we did,” she told Eloise and stood with as much patience as she could muster as her friend pinned a new costume onto her. As usual when they were together they spoke in their mother tongue. It was one way, they had concurred, of keeping it alive to them. “He drank one glass of wine, we decided as by this time it was past three in the morning to forgo our ride a few hours later and meet at Richmond this evening instead, when most people are getting ready for dinner. His lordship offered to pick me up. I declined, and as tonight I have a rare night off, with nothing specific to do, I will take a hackney to the designated place and enjoy his company. Once that was decided, he bowed and left.” To her disquiet, he hadn’t even attempted to kiss her hand. He’d just looked up at her from under impossibly long lashes and smiled. ‘I will show you I keep my promises, Evangeline. Until later.’

  “He is a deep man,” she said now. “Worried, with demons and a very finely developed sense of honor. I wish he wasn’t so…so closed up.”

  “It is said he blames himself for his wife’s death, you know,” Eloise said, her words muffled by a mouthful of pins. “That is considered to be why he is unwilling to remarry.”

  “He blames himself?” That didn’t square with the man she was beginning to know. “Why on earth would he do that?”

  Eloise put the end of a tape measure between her lips, measured a few inches off with her fingers and nodded. “Snowf sed.”

  “I think I understood that. But why?”

  Eloise spat the tape out and fixed three pins carefully into her pincushion. “As to that I am not sure. She was, I believe, excessively demanding, and he would not kowtow to her. Over what, when, how and why no one will say. All I know is she drowned when his yacht capsized off the coast of Devon, and he wasn’t with her.”

  No wonder he wanted no responsibilities for anyone else. That he had reiterated more than once they were to be friends, no more. Evangeline stayed silent until she was again dressed in her own clothes and took her leave of Eloise. She must not forget her own agenda while worrying about Gibb Alford. The facts—and gossip—Eloise had imparted told her both a lot and not very much. However, there was other information she needed and had to hunt out. This afternoon a visit to an elderly French woman who had resided in London since before the Terror was on the cards. What Lady Lisette Tonge née Marin didn’t know about those who’d fled to Britain during those dark days was not worth knowing.

  Evangeline dressed with care. Lady Tonge might have agreed to see her all those months ago, but she was still a lady and Evangeline was what? Apart from the daughter of a miller’s wife. That was the one thing that she could say with certainty. Everything else was conjecture. Nevertheless, Evangeline would give no one among the ton any cause for saying she was not dressed as a lady, for any reason whatsoever.

  * * * *

  Lady Tonge lived a quiet, life—or so she insisted—a five-minute hackney away from Bruton Street. Her English husband had died years earlier—‘No stamina,’ she’d said with a twinkle in her eye. “Now a Frenchman would still be thriving. If he’d escaped the Terror, like many did.”

  Alas, also many had not. Evangeline often wondered if her papa been one of those. Had she passed him in the street, unknown and unnoticed? Or was he a commoner, one who had stood and cheered as heads rolled? Did she really want to find out?

  Evangeline had asked herself that question on more than one occasion, and always arrived at the same answer. Yes, she did.

  Lisette Tonge welcomed her in French and bade her sit down and drink a glass of cognac. It was of the finest quality and all Lady Tonge ever said was she welcomed the friends who looked after her.

  “You know, child, you have the look of someone I used to know. For the life of me I do not remember who, or even if it was here or at home.” She sipped her drink and regarded Evangeline over the top of her goblet. “No matter, it will come to me one day. The penalties of old age. I remember hearing about the Terror and how we all felt, but can’t remember what happened last week. Except my fool of a daughter decided to tell her even more of a fool daughter to set her cap at Gibb Alford. Stupid, both of them.”

  Evangeline nodded. “So I believe,” she said.

  “If he were interested,” Lady Tonge continued, “which I know for a fact he isn’t, he’d make mincemeat of both of them. Now where was I? Ah yes, just who do you remind me of. That tilt of the head, your hair and those eyes. I am definite that you have the look of someone I know.”

  Evangeline’s heart missed a beat. “Black hair and blue eyes are commonplace, I expect.”

  Lady Tonge looked at her with shrewd, faded blue eyes and a wicked twinkle. “Not so much here. I will have to think about it. Now, perhaps you could read some of Béranger’s poetry to me? I miss the lyrical way our language flows in such things.”

  “Of course, I miss it.” Evangeline nodded and smiled. Her words were not true, for she had never been an aficionado, but for Lady Tonge she would suffer. If it established her as one of Lady Tonge’s protégées, who was she to argue? Even if the poetry was not to her taste. She cleared her throat and began. “Les…”

  * * * *

  She escaped just in time to rush home, drink a large glass of water and wonder what on earth Lady Tonge and her elderly companion Mademoiselle Pannier saw in Béranger’s work, wash, change and hail a hackney. Her hair she had tied back in a knot and she’d used a copious amount of pins to secure it. Even if they were to do no more than walk and perhaps have a light repast in the inn nearby, she didn’t want to let Gibb down by looking less than her best.

  However, she daren’t spend any longer or she would be late, and the last thing she wanted to appear was unpunctual.

  With a secret smile Evangeline pinched her cheeks and pursed her lips several times to bring color into them—she eschewed rouge when she wasn’t working, it made such a mess of her skin. She did her best to make do with what Mother Nature had bestowed upon her and her own sense of style. Her light-blue gown and navy pelisse suited her and were smart without appearing too dressy, and she had to hope Gibb thought her attire suitable for the occasion. If not? It would be a pity, but she’d dressed as she thought appropriate for a stroll and perhaps a meal, and could do no more.

  The roads were busy, and the hackney made slow progress until the outskirts of the city were reached. More than once she glanced at a church clock and groaned at the time. However, as traffic decreased, the vehicle’s pace increased and she began to think she might indeed arrive within minutes of the allotted time. Relieved beyond measure, Evangeline sat back in her seat and relaxed.

  The outskirts of Richmond were not far ahead when the hackney slowed and pulled to one side to let a curricle drawn by two perfectly matched chestnuts overtake them with the distance between the vehicles judged to perfection. Whoever drove the curricle was a whip indeed. How nice to be able to arrive somewhere in such style.

  You had the chance. Evangeline picked at a loose thread on her reticule until she realized what she was doing and dropped it like a hot potato onto the seat beside her. Nerves. Why? This was what she wanted.

  Wasn’t it?

  The carriage juddered to a halt before she answered her own question and she picked up the much-m
aligned reticule and shook her skirts, ready to descend. The door opened and Gibb looked in.

  “Perfect timing, my dear. I’ve paid the coachman so we can walk and talk to our hearts’ content. He will wait for you if you require it, or…” He left the rest of his question hanging in the air.

  There was no doubt the decision was up to her.

  Evangeline counted to three and took a deep breath. “Then let him go and we have no specific time when we have to return,” she said, outwardly composed and inwardly quaking. “If that is suitable to you?”

  Had she just done something rather stupid?

  Gibb listened to her words with a light heart and a sense of amazement. He had hinted, but, he admitted, hedged around asking her outright to move things forward. Therefore, if he were to be honest, he was not expecting a positive outcome. Indeed, he still wondered if he had heard aright. “Are you sure? Oh, I am,” he added in haste, as she looked alarmed. “I do not do or say things I don’t mean.”

  She grinned, a gamine, easy smile. “Nor I.”

  The relief was disproportionate to what she had agreed to. Yet again a phenomenon unknown to him. It seemed his life was changing, and Gibb wasn’t sure if it was for better or not.

  “Then that is fine.” He hoped. “I’ve paid the coachman anyway so he will not miss out on a fare. One moment, my dear, if you will.” He walked to the box, spoke briefly to the jarvey and returned to take Evangeline’s hand and tuck it into the crook of his arm.

  With a flourish of the whip, the hackney moved away, the noise of the horse’s hooves and the vehicle’s wheels fading as it disappeared over the brow of a hill.

  “Now we can walk,” Gibb said with satisfaction. He looked at Evangeline from tip to toe and liked what he saw. As long as one didn’t look at her eyes, he decided, a perfect lady stood in front of him. They gave away the fact she was no meek and mild miss. They sparkled and teased. It was oh so easy to grin at her with a carefree attitude that he had not experienced for many a long month. “Is your footwear up to it?”