~*~
Evan watched her go, slightly dumbfounded at her rather ardent speech. It wasn’t well done of him to smile, but really, he couldn’t help it. She loved him. That much was obvious, and despite how angry she was in this moment, he couldn’t help but feel flattered. And hopeful. If she loved him, he could find a way to convince her to marry him. If she wanted his mother’s approval, he would acquire it. If she wanted to be courted, he would court her. He wouldn’t let another thing get in the way of his happiness.
And his happiness was dependent on marrying Grace Clarke. Damn, but that was an alarming thought. The Duke of Somerset could apparently be brought to his knees by a honey-haired chit.
Determination flamed his footsteps as he charged through the ballroom toward the front doors of the assembly hall. He’d almost made it outside when someone called his name. Evan whirled to see the Marquess of Eastleigh coming toward him.
“Leaving so soon?” the man asked, clapping him heartily on the back.
“I’m afraid I must,” Evan said, keeping his tone grave to make it seem as if he were disappointed to leave so early. In reality, he couldn’t wait to get back to London, pack his things, and move to the country to begin courting his future bride. “I’ll be back in a few days time.”
“My wife and I will return to Kent tomorrow, but I do hope our paths will cross again soon.”
He smiled. “Oh, I’m almost certain they will.” And then he tipped his hat and set off for London.
~*~
Evan arrived back home two days later. He’d hoped to drive straight through, but the rain had begun close to midnight, making it impossible for his driver to push onward. Thankfully, they’d not been far from a coaching inn, where they spent the night, and then woke before dawn to set out again. It was still raining, and the roads were less than desirable, so the carriage made little progress, forcing them to stay another night in an inn along the way.
By the time they arrived back in London, Evan was eager for a hot bath and a good lunch, but the odd look on his butler’s face when he walked through the door to his townhome told him there might be an obstacle to his desires.
“What’s the matter, Geoffrey?” he asked as he divested himself of his greatcoat.
The butler cleared his throat. “They’ve been waiting for you in the drawing room for more than an hour.”
He crinkled his brow in confusion. “Who?” When the man hesitated, Evan repeated the question. “Who have been waiting for me, Geoffrey?”
“I think you ought to go in and see for yourself, Your Grace.”
Evan was too curious to stand in the foyer trying to browbeat the names out of his butler. “Fine.” He stalked to the other side of the foyer and flung open the door to the parlor. The wind knocked out of him when he saw the man sitting across from his mother in the wing-backed chair.
Trying to keep his pulse as calm as he could, Evan offered a slight bow and then asked, “Lord Hedley, I…what…?”
“You’re very fortunate, Somerset,” his mother spoke up.
A pit formed in his stomach. “Fortunate?”
“I apologize for any inconvenience my daughter has caused you,” Hedley said. “Thankfully, I found her with…ahem…well, never mind. The point is I found her before she got too far, thanks to a good friend with a keen eye.”
Damn. How was he supposed to behave in this circumstance? He should be happy, shouldn’t he? But how could he feign happiness when he was feeling anything but? Quite the opposite really—it seemed as if the world were closing in on him. The air felt thinner all of a sudden. But he couldn’t just stand here gaping.
“Yes, fortunate indeed,” he finally managed. “By the by, where is Lady Alicia?”
“Never fear,” the marquess said, rising from his seat. “You needn’t worry about her attempting to run again. I’ve got her under lock and key.”
“Lock and key?” Evan repeated.
“Absolutely. She’ll not attend any parties, and she’ll not receive any visitors…other than you and your family members, of course,” he clarified with a little laugh. “Well, I best be off. I’ll see you both at the wedding in a few weeks.” He turned to Evan. “And again, my apologies for my daughter’s behavior. I do hope she’ll be an easier wife than she’s been a daughter.”
How reassuring. “Thank you, my lord,” was all Evan could manage. His head was too jumbled trying to figure out what he was going to do now. He had been all ready to march in here and tell his mother he was going to marry Grace Clarke and demand her blessing. But now what? That familiar pit of guilt was creeping back into his belly.
No. He ruthlessly tamped it down. Things might be a little trickier now—he might need to take more care with the situation—but he would rest assured in the fact that Grace Clarke would most definitely be his wife.
Fourteen
Hannah Ludlum, nee Gilford, knew Evan was up to something. She’d never seen him like this—distracted, intense, fidgety—what in the world was going on with her normally composed older brother? And how much longer would she have to wait to find out? As it was, she’d been sitting in the large leather chair of his study for almost ten minutes, watching him pace and stare out the window. She might have said something, except she worried she’d break his train of thought, causing him to take even longer to address her.
He had called her here, so clearly there was something he wished to discuss with her. It was all right, though. She was used to waiting. Beeston wasn’t the most prompt person in the world. As a matter of fact, she spent many a night letting her supper get cold, waiting for him to join her at the table. Some nights he strolled in an hour late; some he never came home at all.
She shook her head. That was of no consequence, really. Her brother was clearly in a state of shock or something, and he deserved her undivided attention.
Finally, after another three minutes, according to the desk clock, Evan turned and looked at her, as if he just realized she’d entered the room. Even though he’d greeted her upon her arrival.
“I’ve something of a conundrum,” he said, to which Hannah blinked her eyes wide at him. “I’m not in love with Lady Alicia.”
This tickled her something fierce, but she managed to maintain her composure as she asked, “Is that what you’ve called me here to say? Heavens, Evan, that’s hardly news.”
Her brother stared at her. “You knew?”
“Oh, Evan, love hardly ever plays a role in a marriage. It’s not so uncommon. Besides, you and Lady Alicia were promised to one another when you were mere children. Of course I knew. But…is there someone you do love?”
Of course, she already knew the answer to that question, but wouldn’t it be thrilling to hear him say it out loud? Beeston would never make such a confession—love and romance would never be part of her life. But to hear her brother admit something so boldly would satisfy the romantic in her.
Evan paced before the window again. Obviously, this was a hard thing to admit. Come on, Evan. S ay it. Help me believe true love exists in this world.
“I don’t know if it’s love,” he finally said, stopping in his tracks to look directly at her. “I’m not certain I know what that really is.” He gave a little laugh and shook his head. “How pathetic that is. Thirty-three years old and I can’t say I’ve ever experienced anything akin to love.”
Hannah sighed and leaned back in her chair. “Then we shall be pathetic together.”
Normally, Evan would regard her with a mixture of sadness and frustration that she’d not had the marriage he wanted her to have. But for once he was too focused on his own problem, and her words went unheard.
Not that she cared. She was actually glad to see Evan this way. He’d been so tortured with guilt over his time away—it was nice to see him so impassioned about something, especially a woman. And not just any woman—a woman who Hannah would very much like to have for a sister-in-law.
“At any rate,” he said, after a few minutes lost in tho
ught, “I’ve come up with a plan, but I need your help.”
“My help?” She couldn’t remember a single time in her life that Evan had asked for her help.
Her brother put his hands on the desk and leaned forward, his crystalline eyes at a level with her own. Goodness, he’d become rather intense, hadn’t he? “I need you to purchase a dress…befitting a bride.”
It was a very good thing Hannah hadn’t been sipping her tea just then, otherwise she would have spewed it all over Evan’s study. “I beg your pardon?” she choked out.
“It’s just that…well, I think you’re just about the right size.”
That was it. He was going to have to admit to his love for Miss Clarke. “I won’t do a damned thing until you tell me who it is you’re in love with and plan to marry.”
Evan reared back at her language, but once he’d recovered, his forehead furrowed with something akin to worry. “I told you…I’m not certain I can call it love.”
“Evan.” Hannah stood from her chair. She needed to be at her full height to deliver this news. “If you’re willing to fight for someone, it means you love them. I rather think this looks a bit like fighting, if you ask me.”
He turned away and stared out the window toward the Wetherby’s garden. Say it, Evan. Just say it!
As if he’d heard her frustrated thoughts, he whirled abruptly and shouted, “Fine! I love her, all right? I. Love. Miss. Clarke. She consumes my every thought, to be completely honest. But I’ve made a mull of things. Although, I think I can fix it. I just have to—”
Alarm filled her breast. “How on earth did you make a mull of things?”
Evan, clearly having lost steam, plopped into his seat and put his face in his hands, before slumping against the high back of the chair. “Apparently, it isn’t terribly respectable to allow guilt to dictate one’s life.” He shook his head. “She knows Lady Alicia is having an affair, and she knows I planned to marry her anyway. Out of a sense of honor. Only she doesn’t find it terribly honorable.”
“Planned?”
He finally looked her in the eyes, his own so intent, so clear, for the first time since he’d come back from Paris. “I’m not going to marry Lady Alicia. I’m going to marry Grace. But aside from the four of us—and Lady Alicia’s paramour, I suppose—no one else can know.”
She sat forward, curiosity eating at her. “Do you plan to elope with her?”
“No.” Evan shook his head. “I plan to buy her a veil so thick, no one at St. George’s will ever suspect it’s not Lady Alicia walking down the aisle toward me.”
Her jaw dropped open of its own accord. “You must be joking.” Really, her brother wasn’t prone to harebrained ideas, but this one took the cake.
He leaned in and placed his arms on the desk. “I will take the wedding dress and veil to Grace in Essex, and make arrangements for her to come back to Town in time for the wedding. Lady Alicia will go through with all her preparations the morning of, but at the last minute, she will escape in an unmarked carriage headed for a church in a different part of Town, where her footman will be waiting for her, and Grace will take her place. No one will be the wiser until the end of the ceremony, when I lift the veil.”
Her brother sat back and folded his arms across his chest, clearly quite proud of this elaborate plan.
“It all sounds rather Biblical to me,” Hannah said, recalling the story of Leah and Rachel.
“Perhaps,” Evan remarked. “But I’ll not be deceived by anyone’s father this time. I will get the woman I want in the first place.”
Evan had changed a great deal in the last fifteen years, but it was truly these last two weeks, and a lovely young lady named Grace, who had changed him the most. Still, it was a ridiculous plan.
“I thought you meant to fight for her,” Grace said, letting the disappointment lace her tone.
His brow creased. “I am. Didn’t you hear the plan?”
“Oh, I heard it.”
“Well, aren’t you impressed?”
“Hardly.”
The crease between Evan’s brows grew even deeper, so Hannah decided to stop being vague and tell him, in no uncertain terms, that he was being quite lily livered.
“My dear dolt of a brother,” she began. “Fighting for someone does not mean coming up with an elaborate plan that allows you to avoid a difficult conversation with an intimidating woman. Rather, it means facing your fear—who, in this case, is Mother, I’m certain—and telling her she can rant and rave all she wants, but that she will not dictate your life any longer. And then you meet Grace Clarke at the altar, no matter what Mother says.”
Evan seemed to ponder this for a moment. “Are you calling me a coward?” he finally asked.
“Absolutely.”
This made him chuckle, which sent a sigh of relief through Hannah’s body. To be honest, she was trembling. Not because she was frightened of her brother, but because she simply didn’t enjoy having these types of confrontations.
He stopped laughing and sat thoughtfully for a long minute or two. “Damn,” he finally said. “I am a bloody coward, aren’t I? Grace even said so, though not in such a direct manner.”
Hannah gave him a little smile. “Sorry,” she said, feeling sheepish about her forwardness.
“Don’t be.” Evan smiled back, that enigmatic smile that made women swoon at his feet, but made Hannah glad to be his sister.
“Would you like me to be there when you tell Mother?” she asked, remembering his offer to be at her side when she told Beeston about the baby. Which she still had not done.
He tipped his dark head back to look at the ceiling, reminding her of when they were children. Whenever Father had insisted Evan play with her, he would tip his head back in the same manner, let out a guttural sigh, and then give some reason as to why he didn’t want to have her along. Usually that he didn’t want to have to play with dolls—which she would eventually force him to do.
“Thank you for the offer,” he finally said. “But I think I need to face this demon on my own.”
~*~
More than a week had passed since Grace had turned Evan away at the assembly, and she was still feeling rather proud of herself. She relived the scene in her head over and over, day in and day out, regardless of the pit that formed in her stomach whenever she did so. To be truthful, only part of her felt proud. The other part felt a little foolish, and now she questioned if she’d done the right thing. Did it truly matter how he came to be hers? Would Romeo and Juliet have loved one another had they not had so many obstacles to overcome? Of course they would have! And they’d have both been alive at the end of the story, too.
Grace gave a little huff, drawing her sister’s attention.
“I do wish you’d quit sulking,” Cassie said, her nose high in the air. Goodness, she was going to be even worse than Grace had been. Mama had her work cut out for her—or perhaps Chloe, as she’d be the one sponsoring their little sister in London in just a few years time.
“I’m not sulking,” Grace countered as they rounded the corner onto the main street with all the shops. Shopping in Braintree was nothing like shopping in London. What Grace wouldn’t give to wander down Jermyn Street or through the Burlington Arcade and pick out the finest gloves or slippers she could find. “I’m just…quiet.”
“You’ve never been quiet a day in your life,” Cassie said.
“I was seven when you were born—you have no idea what happened before that. Perhaps I was quiet as a mouse, but only had to start speaking up to be heard over your caterwauling.”
Her sister gave her a look that said, You’re not fooling anyone, and then faced forward again. “Oh, let’s go in here,” she begged, forgetting about Grace’s sulkiness in the face of the sweet shop.
Grace thought a small treat might lift her spirits, so she gladly opened the door and stepped into the sugary-smelling shop. A gaggle of young ladies flitted about, choosing confectionaries and talking excitedly. They were all Grace’
s age, but since she didn’t grow up in this town and had quickly run off to London after they moved here, she wasn’t very familiar with any of them.
Cassie found her favorite part of the store—the chocolates—while Grace made her way to the sugared fruits. She was about to pluck a few apricots from their barrels when a familiar name caught her attention.
“It’s such a shame the Duke of Somerset is already betrothed,” a redheaded girl covered head-to-toe in freckles said.
“Did you catch a glimpse of him at the assembly last week?” This came from a rather eager brunette.
Grace tried to ignore them. She didn’t want to hear what they had to say about Evan, and she certainly wasn’t going to volunteer the information that his intended had run off to Gretna Greene with another man, leaving the duke fair game.
“Does anyone know what he was doing there?” the brunette continued.
The other girls shook their heads—all except one, mischievous looking blonde. She waved the other girls to her and dropped her voice to a whisper. “There’s a rumor going about that his fiancée was having an affair with a footman!” Everyone gasped, naturally. “I personally think he was just trying to get away from the scandal. But then…”
Grace took a step closer to their little huddle.
“She came back,” the blonde finished.
She came back? Grace’s heart felt as if it was going to leap out of her chest and run off without her. Lady Alicia came back. She didn’t marry the footman. She was still betrothed to Evan.
Grace gasped for air. She vaguely heard her sister asking her if she was all right as she burst onto the wooden walkway outside the shop. Dear God. What had she done? No wonder he hadn’t returned. But then, what had she expected? Even if Lady Alicia had gone through with her elopement, why would Evan have come back to court Grace? After her refusal of him at the assembly, he’d probably written her off completely.
Oh, why did she have to be so difficult? Why couldn’t she have said yes to him then and there? Now she’d lost him forever, and there was nothing to be done about it.
The Temptation of the Duke (Regency Romance) Page 13
