Clearly recalling some of Gypsy’s most recent mischief, the duke laughed as he collapsed on the sofa. He placed his hand on his chest as if he could prevent his lungs from bursting. If the man grieved for his old bachelor ways, he hid it well. Everod had not seen his friend so content.
“What about you?” Solitea asked, his merriment dimming as he reached from behind to tuck a pillow under his head. “Brawley arrogantly lectured me about my negligence for allowing you to leave the card room.”
Everod sneered. “Brawley can be an arse!”
“That’s true,” his friend concurred, unperturbed that his brother-in-law had been insulted. “What galls me is the fact that he was correct. You gave me the impression after that small incident at the theater that you planned to stay away from the Worringtons, and that young lady—Oh, what was her name? Mary?” He made a vague gesture with his hand.
“Maura … Maura Keighly,” Everod said, not believing his friend had forgotten Maura’s name or her connection to the family. The man was quicker than all les sauvages nobles combined. “Worrington’s niece by marriage.”
Solitea pinned him with a direct stare. “And what is she to you? Cadd remarked that there was nothing cousinly about your posturing around Miss Keighly. He also—”
The reminder of Cadd’s interest in Maura rekindled Everod’s anger toward his friend. “I have heard enough of Cadd’s bloody observations. If he has any sense, he will stay out of my way for several days. I warned the man off, and he thought nothing of wheedling an introduction from Lady Fancutt.”
“There is something going on with the niece,” Solitea said, closing his eyes. “You caused quite a stir with the Worringtons when you danced with her.”
He could not decide which gave him the greatest pleasure, Maura’s defiance of the family by consenting to dance with him or watching his father, Rowan, and Georgette seethe in fury at his boldness. “My little brother seemed ready to challenge me for daring to touch Maura’s hand. The puppy fancies himself in love. You should have seen how he slobbered all over her, when he—”
Solitea opened one eye. “No.”
“No? No, what?” Everod leaned forward to drag a second chair closer so he could prop his long legs on it.
Solitea opened both eyes and scowled at him. “Tell me you did not follow the Worringtons back to their town house. Or trespass onto the grounds.”
“The town house is mine,” Everod said, settling back in his chair. “Or will be once Worrington grants me my fondest wish by dying soon.”
Everod belatedly recalled only two years had passed since Solitea had inherited the dukedom from his father. The old duke had died suddenly, and his friend still grieved over the family’s loss.
“Don’t jest about such things,” Solitea said, his eyes narrowing with anger. “You may never be able to forgive Worrington for his callous treatment, but he’s still your father. Besides, I know you, Everod. You don’t want the man’s blood on your hands.”
“You credit me with benevolence I lack inside of me,” he replied carelessly. “No, cease the lecture. I have no ambition to face either my father or brother over pistols at dawn. Why should I inconvenience myself when the Worringtons have provided me an amusing and pretty distraction?”
“Miss Keighly.”
Everod slouched and braced his head up with his fist against his cheek. “You sound like you disapprove.”
“Seducing virgins for amusement is a blood sport I have never fancied,” Solitea growled, reminding Everod that he never wanted to make the young duke his enemy. “I would have happily bathed in Lord Thatcher Standish’s blood for seducing my sister, but Fayre was so humiliated, so hurt by the bastard’s betrayal, that she begged Father and me not to retaliate.”
Everod grew quiet.
He had forgotten about Lady Fayre’s ill-fated love affair with Standish. Solitea rarely mentioned the incident. The Carlisle family had managed to quell most of the rumors, and dismissed Standish’s cruel boasts as lies. In a matter of weeks, another scandal had replaced the ton’s interest in Solitea’s sister.
His friend broke the awkward silence between them. “Seducing Miss Keighly will not satisfy you.”
Everod thought about Maura’s innocent lips rubbing and nibbling his. She was completely inept at her task, but his body did not seem to care. He had been so aroused all he wanted to do was shove her against the wall and lose himself in all her feminine softness. He grinned mockingly at his loss of control.
“I disagree,” he said, covering his yawn with the back of his hand. “A willing Maura Keighly in my bed could make me very tolerant to the Worringtons. She’s very devoted to my father. I wonder, would she sacrifice her virginity for him?”
Or guilt.
Would she surrender her body to appease him for the lies she told to protect her aunt?
“It is a distasteful notion,” his friend spat, sitting up from his reclining position. “Stick to your usual fare of widows and courtesans, Everod. This vengeful course is beneath you. Miss Keighly does not deserve to be the sacrificial lamb for the Worringtons’ treachery.”
Pride kept him silent, though a part of him agreed with Solitea. If he had been completely void of the scruples Maura had accused him of lacking, Everod would have taken Maura’s innocence this evening. He sensed her awareness of him, her curiosity. When he had sent her away after she had kissed him, Maura had been hurt by his dismissal. If he had lingered in the gardens with her, he was confident that the lady would have granted him further liberties.
“If I bed Miss Keighly, I promise the lady will be willing,” he said, attempting to assure his friend that he was not an utter scoundrel.
“You forget I have seen you charm a reluctant lady,” Solitea said, unimpressed. “I have no doubt Miss Keighly will think she had a choice.”
Unbeknownst to both men, Kilby Carlisle, Duchess of Solitea, crept away and sagged against the table just beyond the open door that led to the library. She was distressed by what she had overheard. She initially had planned to reveal herself to her husband and Everod and join them in the library. That was, until she heard Miss Keighly’s name. She adored Lord Everod as much as her husband, but this business with Maura Keighly was wrong. Fayne loved Everod. He would not interfere, unless blood was spilled, and even then, he would support his friend. Who would protect Miss Keighly from Everod? It appeared the poor young lady needed a few friends. For the first time, Kilby refused to align herself with her husband.
It wasn’t until morning that Maura discovered why Everod had paid a visit to the town house. The leather case in her hands was proof that he had been in the house. Maura had discovered it hidden behind the folding support of the small reading table in her chamber. If she had not decided to read several pages from Mrs. Radcliffe’s book this morning, it might have been days before she had noticed the case.
When she opened the case, the mystery as to why Everod had not simply left the case on her dressing table was solved. Maura plopped down on the chair. Within the padded interior rested not only his mother’s silver and pearl necklace, but matching earrings, two bracelets, and a narrow silver ring. It was the complete suite. He had possessed the other pieces all along. No wonder he had been annoyed when he saw the missing necklace around her neck that evening at the theater.
Why had he given his mother’s jewelry to her?
Maura had harbored no ill will in surrendering the necklace to him. It was a keepsake of his mother’s, after all. She picked up the delicate silver band, and admired the three medium-sized pearls embedded in the scrolling design. Everod’s generosity confused her. Placing the open case on the reading table, she slid the ring down the third finger of her right hand.
It fit her perfectly.
She started at the sudden knock at her door. Fearing her aunt might be on the other side of the door, Maura hastily closed the lid on the jewelry case and returned it to its hiding place behind her book. She flinched at the next series of firm knocks
. Belatedly, she recalled the silver ring on her hand, but if someone questioned her about it, she could always tell them that it had been a gift from her mother.
Maura opened the door and was surprised to see the family butler, Abbot, on the other side. “I beg your pardon, Abbot, I was, uh, distracted,” she finished lamely.
“Forgive me for disturbing you, Miss Keighly,” the butler said politely. “Three ladies have come calling, and request an audience with you. Her Grace said that it was imperative that she meet with you this afternoon.”
“Me?” she squeaked, wishing she had chosen a prettier gown for the afternoon. “Are you certain? There must be a mistake.”
“Her Grace, the Duchess of Solitea, and her companions referred to you by name, Miss Keighly.” He glanced questioningly at her when she began to back away. His normally formal demeanor softened with sympathy. “Under their fancy titles and dresses, those ladies are simple kindhearted lasses like you, I expect. I will have Cook send up some refreshments to the drawing room while you tidy yourself.”
Abbot bowed and pulled the door closed.
Oh, my, Maura thought as she picked up her comb and peered into the small looking glass on her dressing table. A duchess was waiting for her in the Worringtons’ drawing room! Aunt Georgette would be thrilled when she learned that her niece was not spending all her time with her nose in a book.
By the time Maura had reached the stairs, her anticipation of meeting the three ladies had dimmed somewhat. She could not recall being introduced to the Duchess of Solitea, though the title seemed familiar. Perhaps Aunt Georgette had begged a favor from an acquaintance, and the young ladies had been asked to befriend Maura.
The prospect that the Duchess of Solitea had called on her out of pity doused the remaining embers of her excitement. With her shoulders set, and her head held high, Maura entered the drawing room.
“Everod, I am honored that you have an hour or so to spare for your old friends these days,” Velouette said, extending her hand in greeting as she reclined on a brilliant gold chaise longue near the window.
“I was under orders to see you. Our mutual friend Lady Silver tells me that you have rejected all of her invitations to join her, Vel,” Everod said, making a soft tsking noise. “It is unlike you to barricade yourself in your house at the height of the social season.”
Lady Silver and Lady Spryng had both formed intimate albeit brief connections with several of les sauvages nobles. The merry widows were outrageous and flirtatious, and oftentimes more daring than most gents. One night, the pair had offered to share him, when Solitea, the pompous arse, had cried off. The ladies had sated his every whim, leaving him smugly content and exhausted. They had been the ones to dub him “Everhard,” much to his amusement. To this day, the fond memory of that night could make his cock twitch if he dwelled on it.
“Everod, I am hardly fit to walk through a door,” Velouette said, her eyes filling with self-pitying tears. She was prepared this time, and retrieved her lace handkerchief from her sleeve. “Look at me! I am as round as a gooseberry in this dress! No man would want to be seen with me. Ladies would mock me. Oh, I should have departed London weeks ago, and retired in the country.”
“Vel,” he said, drawing out her name.
Everod was concerned about her. Lady Silver was, too, otherwise she would not have sent him a note asking him to call on the young lady. It was not difficult to guess that the source of her melancholy was her absent lover.
“Perhaps you should cast your pride aside and summon the babe’s father. If he is not aware of your delicate condition, then you should tell him. It is unfair—”
Velouette’s dark eyes gave him a scathing look. “Do not speak of unfairness to me, when even from here I have heard rumors of your mischief with a certain young lady. Though beautiful to admire, and an enthusiastic lover, you, Everod, can be a cold, soulless bastard when it comes to getting what you want from others.”
Everod frowned at his hat clasped in his hands. “Does this mean you will not marry me, Vel?”
He spoke so matter-of-a-factly that Velouette burst into laughter. Their natures were too alike for them to have a comfortable marriage. The young widow held her stomach as her entire body shook with her glee.
“You wound me, my lady,” he said, pleased he had chased away her sadness, even for a few minutes.
Velouette mopped her eyes with her handkerchief. “Nothing wounds you, Everhard,” she said, shaking her head at the absurdity. “You would destroy anyone who tried.”
The countess’s observation bothered him more than it should have. Coming to a decision, he said to her, “Change your dress. I feel like a ride in the park.” His fingers brushed hers, and he felt the thump of the baby’s kick. Poor Velouette. He would be miserable, too, if he had some cantankerous imp kicking his bowels all day. “I see your son agrees.”
Velouette clasped his hand, her gratitude showing in her face. “You are so good to me. I wish you were my son’s father.”
Everod smiled faintly, but wisely kept his tongue firmly clamped between his teeth.
“Miss Keighly, you must think we are terribly forward for arriving at your door in this manner,” Kilby Carlisle, Duchess of Solitea, said apologetically after she had introduced Maura to her companions, Lady Fayre and Lady Ramscar.
“Not at all,” Maura said, encouraging them all to sit. “I am, however, a little confused by the message you had delivered to the butler. You told Abbot that it was imperative that you see me.”
Her Grace glanced at her sister-in-law, Lady Fayre. The other lady nodded encouragingly. “Yes, I did.”
All three ladies exhibited varying degrees of discomfort. Maura gingerly sat on the edge of one of the chairs. She had a horrible feeling the trio had not come to offer her friendship.
“You are not here because my aunt spoke to one of your relatives, are you? I thought my aunt Georgette might be meddling again, or even Rowan, uh, Mr. Lidsaw. It is far worse, I suppose.”
The Countess of Ramscar possessed a strange sense of humor. She seemed to choke on a bubble of laughter when Maura had mentioned her suspicions about meddling family members. The elegant blonde quickly sobered. Her eyes were kind when she replied, “My apologies, Miss Keighly. I can think of very few things worse than interfering relatives.”
“Second only to noisy strangers in your drawing room,” Lady Fayre added.
“Still, you are correct,” the duchess said, her mouth pressed tightly, revealing her anger. “What news we bring is as unpleasant to say as it is to deliver.”
Maura’s gaze drifted from face to face. “Forgive my impertinence, but have I met any of you before? Do you know the Worringtons? My parents, Lord and Lady Courtwill?”
“Our husbands are good friends of someone—well, Lord Everod,” Her Grace said bluntly.
The unexpected visit from the trio suddenly made sense. “Oh.”
“With the exception of my husband, Mr. Brawley,” Lady Fayre said, pretending there hadn’t been a sudden lapse in conversation. “My brother, Solitea, Ramscar, Cadd, who is Lord Byrchmore, and of course, Everod, are the gentlemen the ton calls les sauvages nobles.”
“I have heard the nickname, and was aware of Lord Everod’s connection,” Maura said dully, staring at the silver and pearl ring on her hand. “If you are acquainted with the viscount, then you are also aware of the family discord.”
“Your aunt seduced him, and his father did his best to murder him,” Lady Ramscar interjected. “It is a family tragedy worthy of the stage.”
“And Everod would likely throttle you if he ever glimpsed his life at Covent Garden, Patience,” Lady Fayre warned.
Maura pursed her lips, feeling as if she only knew parts of the tale. All three of them seemed very nice, but their connection to Worrington’s son created a problem. “I doubt that Lord Everod would be pleased if he learned that you, as his friends, were consorting with his family, even if your intentions to warn me to stay away from the
viscount were honorable.” She stood. Abbot could see the trio to the door. “Believe it or not, I understand your desire to protect him.”
The duchess also stood. With an affection Maura did not deserve, Her Grace grasped both of Maura’s hands. “Protect Everod? No, Miss Keighly, we come here to protect you!”
Chapter Fourteen
“Protect me from Lord Everod?” Maura mused aloud. The duchess’s revelation was so unexpected, so generous, she had to blink away the abrupt hint of tears. What did these ladies know that she did not that warranted protection against the viscount? “Your Grace—”
“Kilby,” the young woman corrected. “My friends call me by my Christian name. Besides, I think of Fayne and Fayre’s mother as the real duchess. I haven’t quite grown accustomed to the title.”
“Mama would disagree,” Lady Fayre argued, moving to stand beside her sister-in-law. “She tells everyone that you rule my brother with a subtle cunning that highly amuses her.” She shifted to address Maura. “My brother, Tem, as Mama and I call him, is so smitten with Kilby that he rarely notices when he has been outwitted.”
Feeling left out, since she was the only one sitting, the countess rose from the sofa to join them. “You may call me Patience. My husband tells me often that my name does not suit my temperament. May we address you informally? Maura, is it not? It is a pretty name. I believe it means ‘dark’ in Latin.”
“Does it?” Maura replied, feeling a little overwhelmed by the attention of her three guests.
From somewhere beyond the closed door of the drawing room, she heard her aunt calling her name. Maura cast a nervous glance in that direction. “You have to leave.” She released the duchess’s hands, and stepped back. “Oh, bother, that sounded rude. Ladies, while I appreciate the reasons that brought you here, you all have to go. Now. Aunt Georgette will be upset if she learns that you are friends of Everod’s.”
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