After dinner and the visitor left, she would sit with her mother and have a talk. There was nothing to be worried about as far as Evangeline was concerned. The family finances were in order. As a matter of fact, apart from her father’s accounting business, her mother was quite wealthy in her own right.
Upon marrying Forest Prescott, Olivia Murray Prescott had brought with her a large estate and other property holdings. Not only that, but Evangeline’s bank account held a grand sum left to her by her grandmother.
Despite her family’s wealth, they lived a simple life. The household staff was smaller than others in their same social status and although the London home was beautiful, it was not grand.
Evangeline had one sibling, an older sister, Priscilla, who lived at her mother’s country estate near Manchester. Although out of the city, it suited her sister and husband perfectly as he preferred to spend his days out with his horses and she loved to garden.
The other Prescott family home, a beautiful sprawling country home was also near Manchester, was where Evangeline and her parents spent several months out of the year. Although it was a nice respite from the city, Evangeline did not prefer it. She loved the activity of the city and enjoyed her book club too much to miss it for long periods.
By the time her father arrived that evening, along with the dinner guest, everything was prepared and ready for dinner.
Her father introduced Evangeline and her mother to the man, who looked to be in his early forties. Mortimer Witt was a business associate, her father explained as they made their way to the dining room. Apparently, the man was investing heavily in a company that he wished her father to investigate.
The man took an extra-long study of Evangeline once they were seated until she fought not to fidget.
“Mister Witt,” her mother said, thankfully taking his attention. “Are you a native Londoner?”
After glancing at her mother, the man looked once again to Evangeline. “No, I spend most of my time south of here in Hertfordshire. I come to London to conduct business but find the city much too,” he hesitated before finishing, “filthy for my liking.”
“I agree it is crowded, but I would not describe London in such a manner,” Evangeline said, not at all liking the man.
Her father gave her a stern look and added, “There are some beautiful sites here.”
“I do not mean to offend you,” Mortimer said in a soothing voice that, for some reason, made Evangeline’s skin crawl. “It is just that the country is so much more pristine compared to the city streets.”
Annoyed now, Evangeline turned to her father. “We should invite Mr. Witt to help with the cleaning of the stables and pig sties at our country estate. That is not what I’d call pristine.”
“Evangeline!” Her mother’s wide eyes moved from her to the visitor. “I apologize. My daughter has had a trying day.”
“No need.” The man had the audacity to smile at her. “I like women who are not afraid to express their opinions.”
Thankfully, her father intervened and the two began to discuss the financial standings of London businesses. It left Evangeline and her mother to offer an occasional nod or acknowledgement of whether or not they’d heard of said business.
Dinner took an extraordinary long time since Mortimer spoke in between each and every bite.
When fresh fruit compote was presented, the visitor was delighted to try it. Once again, the conversation continued as he ate each piece of fruit separately.
Several times over the meal, his gaze moved to her and Evangeline pretended not to notice. Better to avoid than to offend as she didn’t wish to compromise her father’s business in any manner by being rude and glaring back at him.
Thankfully, once the meal ended and the man left, she’d never see him again. Of course, she’d beg her father never to invite him again.
When dinner was completed, as was customary, her father invited Mr. Witt to his study for an aperitif, which suited Evangeline perfectly as she didn’t wish to remain in the man’s presence.
“That was a long meal,” Evangeline pronounced when she and her mother entered the salon. “Mr. Witt seems to savor every bite of food.”
There was a deep crease between her mother’s brows. “I will admit he is a bit strange.”
“Did you notice how he stared at me? It was quite rude.” Evangeline poured sherry into dainty crystal glasses.
Her mother accepted the glass. “Your father had another reason for bringing Mr. Witt here for dinner, Evangeline. We have discussed your situation and have decided to find a husband for you. It is time to consider having a family of your own.”
“Absolutely not,” Evangeline exclaimed and got to her feet. “That man makes my skin crawl.”
Her mother stood and rushed to the pocket doors of the salon and pulled them closed with swiftness. “For goodness’ sake, keep your voice down.” She shook her head and blew out a breath. “You are much too outspoken.”
“Why would Papa think Mr. Witt is suitable,” Evangeline whispered. “He doesn’t care for London and was…”
“I know, darling. Don’t worry, I’ve been fretting over this and may have a plan to get you married to someone more agreeable.”
Evangeline let out a long breath. “Whatever it is, disregard it.”
Taking Evangeline by the hands, her mother led her back to sit. “I have a good plan. You will marry someone that is more pleasing and the choice of man will be much better. I am assured you will be well pleased.”
“What are you planning to do, Mother? I am well, you know, not physically perfect in the least. Most men prefer a woman who is able-bodied.”
Olivia Prescott shook her head and huffed. “Not only are you beautiful but you are more than able to perform the task of running a household. Other than your slight limp, I don’t see what a man could find lacking.”
Her leg ached, a reminder of the last set of excruciating treatments. The doctors had not only not helped her limp but now there were recurring twinges that hurt.
“Very well, Mum. I am willing to listen to whatever you have planned. But rather than marry an unpleasant man like the one in Father’s study, I will prefer to remain a spinster.”
“You are not a spinster,” her mother said in a rather unconvincing tone.
Evangeline smiled. “Mother, in two years I will be thirty. I have been a spinster for several years now.”
There was an interesting combination of determination and pride as her mother met her gaze.
“Do not fret, darling. Tomorrow, I have a very important woman to meet. All will be well.”
Her mother’s words sounded more like a warning than a statement meant to soothe.
Chapter Two
Camren Maclean stretched his long legs, heels crossed on a footstool, a glass of whisky held lazily in his right hand as he listened. Gideon Sutherland, who’d traveled with him from Scotland, stood by the hearth. He, too, held a glass of whisky, which came close to splashing over the sides with each movement.
“Around the corner the carriage raced,” Gideon said, swinging both arms for emphasis. “The driver screamed for people to get out of the way.” He stopped to take a drink and then continued. “I wasn’t sure what to do, so I pulled my horse back and then, without thinking, I jumped onto the back of one of the stallions that pulled the carriage.”
The more Gideon spoke, the stronger his brogue became. The Scot often exaggerated stories, but it made them more entertaining. Camren tried to imagine how someone seated on one horse, could catapult and jump on another, one that was racing by no less.
“What happened next?” he asked when Gideon hesitated to allow the question.
“I pulled and pulled on the reins, but the animal was mad with fear. The Devil must have been nearby, I swear it. So, I whistled as loud as I could, and they slowed and finally stopped.”
“This happened at Hyde Park?” Camren looked at his friend. It was impossible to think there was enough distance at
the heavily populated locale for a stampede.
“Aye, it was.”
“What of your horse?”
“Can you believe it?” Gideon said. “The carriage driver did not offer me a ride back to my horse. Instead, the driver said I’d caused the ladies in the carriage to be overly distressed.”
Shaking his head, Gideon lowered to a chair that automatically looked comically small under the large Scot. Camren eyed the spindly legs for a moment.
“The English are perpetually distressed.”
“Indeed,” Gideon exclaimed, holding up his glass.
“The horse?” Camren asked again.
Gideon’s face fell. “I lost it. Have no idea where the animal went.”
“You lost one of our horses then.” Camren stood and went to the door. His valet looked up from where he sat by the door reading. “Daniel, can you go see about the black horse? It seems Mister Sutherland has… misplaced it at Hyde Park.”
“The black horse returned earlier this afternoon, Sir,” Daniel replied, and his eyes widened. “I apologize. We thought Mister Sutherland had released him upon arriving.”
It was a fair assumption as Gideon had been in his cups days earlier and had tried to tether the horse to the front door. The animal had backed away and wandered about the gardens before being found.
“I see. Very well then.” Camren went back into the parlor.
Gideon stood with arms stretched up. “Good thing for intelligent beasts. I will seek my bed. It has been a long day.”
“Do you not wish the housekeeper to see about any injuries?” Camren asked, studying Gideon’s clean and unwrinkled clothing.
“I don’t wish to be a bother,” Gideon said with a smile. He winked and left the room.
Camren was convinced Gideon had been in the pub chasing women and had somehow been the cause of the horses to spook.
Knowing his friend, he’d tried to stop the carriage while making matters worse. Camren shook his head and decided despite Gideon’s penchant for strange adventures, he enjoyed having him there in London.
“A message for you,” Daniel said, holding a tray with a crisp envelope upon it.
It was late in the evening and strange for a missive to be delivered so late. Camren opened the paper to find an invitation to The Lyon’s Den, a gambling hall. His lips curved. “Thank you, Daniel. This is the perfect cure for boredom.”
His valet’s arched brow did little to dampen the good news that gave him a reason to venture out.
Having to come to London on an extended trip to see about his whisky business was tedious. He preferred the open land of his homeland in northern Scotland to the crowded city life of London.
He kept busy in Scotland, so he was rarely bored. There were many things that had to be tended to back at home and although his clan was at peace, there were the never-ending disputes between villagers and farmers.
Then there were the constant requests for arrangements between his family and other clans insisting on forming alliances by marriage.
As new laird of the clan, his first pronouncement had been to his two brothers and one sister. They would marry the match of their choice not one for gain to the clan.
It had been an easy decision, as he’d been in an arranged marriage that ended disastrously. His wife had run off with the man she’d been in love with and he’d been left humiliated in front of the entire clan.
After two years, the church had granted him a divorce, which freed him to marry again. He would do so because, more than anything, he wanted a family. The next time he married, it would be to a reliable, honest woman who loved him.
Glancing at the invitation, Camren scratched his chin. Why would this woman, the infamous Widow of Whitehall, invite him to gamble? Her establishment was well known for challenges and interesting high-stakes games. It was the perfect place for wealthy young men who needed a challenge or bored older men like him.
His lips curved at the quickening of his heart. Gideon must have crossed paths with someone who informed the Widow of their presence in London.
“Daniel, was there another invitation?”
His valet nodded. “One for Mister Sutherland.”
“Of course.”
“I suppose it will be an interesting thing to do tomorrow afternoon.”
Daniel frowned. “I hear the games can be daunting, some even dangerous. You should reconsider going to that place, Laird.”
“I understand the stakes can be daring, but I am astute enough to know which risks not to take. I will never risk anything that would affect my holdings in Scotland or more than I can afford to pay from my London account. Don’t worry.”
The valet looked to the side in thought. “I’ve heard the Widow has her ways of contriving the games, making them irresistible to the players.”
“So I’ve heard.” Camren took the last sip of whisky and studied the flames in the hearth. He could hardly wait to go and see what awaited him at The Lyon’s Den.
Would he best the Widow or would he lose something precious?
Chapter Three
Meow. Meow.
Like a timepiece, Lucille woke her up at exactly six in the morning. The cat rubbed its face against Evangeline’s check, purring loudly. Despite the bit of annoyance, she had to smile at her feline’s ability to maintain a strict schedule.
“I am getting up,” she said and sat up. With eyes half-closed, she reached for her peach-colored robe and slid her feet into slippers. Lucille raced in front of Evangeline as she half-stumbled down the stairs and through the parlor and to the French doors. She pulled them open and the cat dashed out to the garden.
Leaving the doors cracked just wide enough for the cat to return inside, she went to the kitchen.
Martha looked up from the kitchen table and smiled. “Good morning. I will pour you a cup of tea.”
“Don’t fret, I can do it.” Part of Evangeline’s morning routine was to spend a few moments in quiet companionship, sipping tea until Lucille returned inside. Evangeline then fed her cat bits of meat left from the dinner the night before. Once that was done, she went back to her room to get dressed for the day.
“Mum and Father are plotting to marry me off,” Evangeline said in a flat tone. “I doubt they will find someone willing.”
Martha studied her for a long moment. “The only reason you remain single is because of your stubborn nature, Miss Genie. One small mistake does not a lonely life make.”
The rather unfortunate incident had been more than a small mistake. She’d been without thought and much too adventurous for polite society.
“My small mistake, as you put it, was not in the least bit small.” Evangeline giggled. “I was promiscuous and was found out in the worst way. Although there are many who practice sexual freedoms in what used to be my circle of friends, it was smartly kept behind closed doors.”
They were quiet for a long moment. “And precisely why I think most men would find you irresistible. There won’t be any boring moments with you.”
“Martha!” Evangeline exclaimed, this time allowing laughter to escape. “If Mother heard you, she would swoon.”
The older woman chuckled. “I am stating the truth. If gentlemen have not come with intentions, it is only because of the public nature of your escapade. Otherwise, they’d be flocking.”
Lucille sauntered in and looked to Evangeline with expectation.
“After breakfast, I plan to question Mother. She will tell me exactly what she’s plotting. I do not need to marry. I am perfectly happy to remain here enjoying a quiet life.”
“Is that so?” Martha gave her a pointed look. “I would think you would welcome the company of a man.”
Evangeline shook her head. “Of my choosing, yes. But not one like that horrible Mortimer Witt.”
Martha nodded. “I must speak freely to agree the man was most disagreeable. However, most men are not, and I will pray that you are matched with one who is caring and a good person.”
&nbs
p; “Thank you,” Evangeline said with a grimace. “You can also pray that I be left to do as I wish and not marry at all.”
While heading down the hall and up the stairs, Evangeline kept considering what it would be like to actually marry and have to live somewhere else. She adored her home and the thought of a home elsewhere was unthinkable. Up until the day before, she’d thought her parents were fine with her remaining with them. They’d never be alone when growing old as she would be there to look after them.
Fran had laid out a violet morning gown and a delicate, sheer white shawl. The freckle-faced maid stood next to the dresser with brush in one hand and a ribbon in the other. “I will braid your hair up and use this ribbon through it. It will be so very pretty.”
“Thank you,” Evangeline said, not caring one way or the other as she did not expect to see anyone outside the home. If she were to be honest, spending the day in her sleeping gown would have been preferable.
After dressing, she sat dutifully, allowing the maid to braid her hair and give her the news of the day. Early every morning, Fran and Martha went to the market where they caught up with all the goings-on from other maids. Evangeline felt bad for her staff as they rarely had anything exciting to report.
“There are two new gentlemen in town that are all the talk of the town,” Fran said with an exaggerated sigh. “They are Scottish and reputed to be roguish.”
Scots were normally not the talk of society. Unless they were titled, they were still considered quite uncivilized. “Why are they so popular? Let me guess, they are both handsome.”
“Yes, exactly,” Fran replied. “Extremely, especially the laird, his name is Camren Mac… something. I do not recall.”
“I see. And they are wealthy?”
The Lyon's Laird: The Lyon's Den Page 2
