The Wallflower’s Wild Wedding (The Wallflower Wins Book 3)

by Eva Devon

  “Dear girl,” he said. “I have no interest in making you a mistress, but we need to go somewhere where people will not know you. You can stay indoors and create a new persona there. If you do not wish it, I shall turn our conveyance around and deposit you back at your parents’ place.”

  She raised her hands quickly, her reticule dancing at her wrist. “Forgive me. It’s all such a new adventure. I shall have to trust your judgment in this.”

  “Very wise, Miss Edgington, if any of this is wise,” he replied. “You know little of the demimonde, and you certainly don’t know how to behave in it. It shall be my endeavor to ensure that you will be able to survive it alone. For I shan’t be holding your hand for the rest of your life.”

  The idea of his holding her hand at all suddenly raced through her brain.

  It was not an upsetting proposition at all, for he had quite fine hands. Though gloved at present, she had surmised they were strong. The fingers long, his hands looked firm, capable.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “I’m looking at your hands,” she said honestly.

  “Why?” he asked, his shoulders expanding in a long breath.

  “I’m contemplating you holding mine. You did just say—”

  “Yes, I did,” he said with surprising force, cutting in. “But it was metaphorical.”

  She licked her lips, nervous now, and unable to shake the thought away. “Was it?”

  “Yes,” he said.

  Swallowing, she forced a smile. “Well, I could not resist thinking of the idea.”

  “Devil take it,” he said.

  “I apologize,” she rushed, realizing she was being terribly forward, asserting hand holding. “I am not in the habit of being in the company of a man such as you.”

  “A man such as me?” he repeated more gently.

  “Yes. A rake, sir.”

  He winced and closed his eyes. “It is no one’s fault but my own, but it can be a damned nuisance, my reputation.”

  “Is your reputation false?” she asked, genuinely curious but also realizing that their conversation had wandered into a most strange place. Discourse with rakes was far beyond what she was accustomed to.

  “No, it is not,” he confessed.

  “So, you do seduce ladies quite frequently,” she breathed. Astonished. She had no idea what that even meant, really. She’d never seen a seduction. She’d just read a few romances, but she had a suspicion that those might not portray a seduction with as much detail as she required.

  “Yes,” he said. “But I do not seduce innocent, unmarried ladies.”

  “I am most glad to hear it,” she said firmly, feeling quite relieved that he was not a terrible person. “I should hate to think that you’re a cad.”

  “Oh, I am a cad, my dear,” he said, his voice a low hum. “Don’t think that I’m not, but I’m a kind cad, if such a thing can exist. I do my best not to trod upon other people too firmly.”

  Her lips twitched at his self-description. “I should hate the idea that I have put myself into the hands of a complete rascal.”

  “Oh, Miss Edgington. You have no idea what sort of hands you have put yourself into.”

  “And here we are again,” she said, teasing him and determined not to let him intimidate her, even if the richness of his voice warmed her insides and caused her to tingle in the most curious of ways. “Talking about your hands again.”

  He stared at her for a long moment before a booming laugh rolled from him. “You are quite the bold surprise.”

  “One must be,” she said with a wink, stunned by her own daring, “if one is going to change their life.”

  “You’re correct, of course.” His humor dimmed and, with gentle seriousness, he asked, “You don’t wish to turn back at all?”

  “No,” she declared firmly, matching his seriousness. “I’ve lived that life. I’m ready for a new one.”

  He leaned forward, his gaze slowing drawing over her. “I admire you, you know.”

  “Truly?” she asked, scarce able to draw breath at his assessment.

  He inclined his head. “There are very few who are willing to do what you’re doing. Upturn themselves and try something new. Most prefer the safe road, the careful road. You, you’re blazing all the way through into the wilderness.”

  “To blaze one’s way through the wilderness?” She cocked her head up and whispered, “Who would not wish such a thing?”

  “Be careful. When one blazes their way through the wilderness, one must expect sparks and fire, Miss Edgington.”

  “I shall be as careful as I can,” she replied. “Considering what I’m about to do.”

  “I can only teach you so much,” he said softly, his lips parting. “And then you shall be free.”

  “You’ve made it very clear. You have no intention of being my guardian and my guide for the rest of my life.” Her heart beat wildly as her blood raced, realizing she very much wished him to stay in her life for as long as possible. He was too exciting. Too interesting. Too beautiful to let go of easily. “I wouldn’t wish to burden you with such an unpleasant task.”

  “I didn’t say it would be unpleasant,” he stated.

  “No?” she breathed. “That’s what you intimated.”

  He hesitated, a muscle tightening in his jaw. “I’m not used to looking after others. It is not generally my role.”

  “I’ve heard you’re going to be married,” she countered, confused. He seemed like he would be a marvel at taking care of others. “You shall have to look after someone then, shan’t you?”

  “Not at all. I shall marry her, of course.” He gave a tight nod. “And then she shall have free reign, once she’s given me an heir and a spare.”

  There was a pain in his voice that he no doubt did not mean for her to hear, but it was undoubtedly there.

  “Oh dear,” she said gently. “What a terrible ton marriage you propose.”

  “You are aware that such ton marriages are the rule and not the exception,” he instructed.

  She held his gaze and said, “It sounds rather terrible to me to be close, so close to someone, and yet so distant.”

  He looked away as something painful danced in the shadows of his gaze. “Are your parents so terribly close?”

  “Yes,” she admitted, wondering at his strong reaction. “They actually are. They are the complete opposite of a ton marriage. They are rather, well, very unfashionable. They love each other fervently. They were very lucky meeting each other, and they’re what I’ve known as a married couple my entire life.” She smiled indulgently at her parents’ happiness.

  But she also understood that was why her mother had been so desperate to secure her a happy marriage. She did not wish her daughter to be left alone.

  Eloise cleared her throat. “And if I were to marry, I shouldn’t wish anything less.”

  He let out a surprisingly dry sound of disbelief. “It’s a good thing that you aren’t marrying in the ton then. If you value such things, will you be able to survive the affairs of the theater?”

  “I think so,” she said. “From my experience, it is highly unlikely that I shall ever wed, which will leave me an unwanted spinster, forever chaperoning other young people. Forever laughed at as a failure of my sex. At least as an opera singer, I shall have my freedom.”

  He swung back to her, his brandy gaze dark. “You are a remarkable creature.”

  “Thank you,” she replied. “I take it as a compliment. Now, when should we begin?”

  The coach rolled to a stop.

  He turned to the window. “We are here.”

  “But we have gone but fifteen minutes” she piped, shocked.

  “In London,” he returned. “One only needs to go fifteen minutes to be a world away.”

  And with that, she looked out the window of the coach and spotted the most beautiful townhouse in a new part of West London. It towered over a large green. Its facade was a beautiful pale ivory with Corinthian pillars.
And it was one of the most remarkable buildings she’d ever seen.

  It was hardly discreet.

  “Oh my goodness,” she somehow managed. “You do have a great deal of money. Don’t you?”

  He laughed. “One doesn’t talk about money, my dear, when one is a member of the ton.”

  “I don’t want to be a member of the ton, remember?” She blinked, nearly overwhelmed by his love nest. Most people could barely have a single, pokey house in London. He had to have at least two. “I think singers must care a great deal about money. Mustn’t they? To secure their positions and ensure that they are well paid?”

  He laughed again, his gaze dancing with amusement. “I see you are ready to embrace your new position.”

  She nodded, even as she took in the beautiful house that no doubt could hold at least three of her families. And her families looked rather run down. This looked like a diamond in a duchess’s tiara.

  “Now,” he said. “We must smuggle you in through the back so that no one recognizes you.”

  “A very good idea,” she agreed.

  He pulled a leather valise out from beneath his seat. “I’ve brought your first costume.”

  Her brows rose, astonished.

  And with that, he whisked out a flowing garment unlike any she’d ever worn before.

  Chapter 7

  The crimson cloak’s voluptuous folds enveloped her entire frame, swirling about her legs.

  The decadent silk of it was pure heaven and the massive hood was designed for a lady with a particularly elaborate coiffure. Which she, of course, did not have.

  This garment was clearly meant for a lady who wished to draw the attention of all around her. Except she would be hiding who she was with it.

  That was when she realized that the garment itself would definitely detract from her true identity. For who would ever believe a young lady of so little fortune, beauty, or interest to be in the folds of such a cloak?

  No one!

  It covered her from head to toe with great sumptuous folds, and the hood was so full that she could barely see out from under it.

  Hollybrook easily escorted her up the steps and into the townhouse.

  Her carriage boots clattered over the marble floor and she heard the heavy wood door shut behind her.

  That was when she realized she must look like his mistress to any who watched!

  My goodness.

  It was a shocking thing to comprehend.

  She had never been a scandalous person, and she realized that now that was all she would be for the rest of her life.

  Scandalous.

  For performers were, by the nature of their work, full of scandal.

  It was thrilling finally being freed from too constricting stays. She couldn’t deny it.

  She’d lived such a little life, dedicated to being and doing good with little opportunity for growth, joy, or excitement.

  Now she was going to be a trifle bad. . . Or perhaps very. If she liked it.

  Perhaps not as bad as Hollybrook, but she was confident she’d behave and dress in such a way that no one would recognize her.

  After all, the last few years, she might as well have been invisible. People had not noticed her at all, and she’d still had to behave demurely. But now she could be as bold as she pleased.

  Without a single word, she strolled over the black and white marble foyer floor.

  Abruptly, she turned to him, her hood tumbling back. “Why are you willing to do this? Why are you going to protect me?”

  He paused and his gaze burned over her face. His eyes slipped over her features, down along the bottom of her crimson cloak and back to her eyes.

  The light played over his ruby coat as he strode towards her. “Because I can see that you are a beautiful soul, and I do not wish to see you crushed for merely pursuing the wish of your heart. I can’t explain it entirely. I do not know why exactly, but all I know is I don’t wish you to be hurt.”

  He stopped before her, tilting down his head, closing the distance between them. “I find you captivating.”

  Her heart hammered in her chest. She’d never received such a compliment in all her life. “Captivating?” She cleared her throat. “Me?”

  “Indeed, Eloise Edgington,” he whispered. “You are unlike any lady I’ve ever met.”

  He took another step. His boot skimmed the hem of her cloak, and his thigh brushed the full folds of the silken fabric. “I shall make it known that you are under my continued protection, but we’ll never have that relationship. You are free. Just as you wish to be.”

  The scent of cinnamon and leather surrounded her and her whole body longed to sway into his. The power of him? The strength? And the way his voice seemed to weave about her like pure magic?

  It was far more intoxicating than any wine she’d ever tasted. Unable to reply to his beautiful promise, she gave a nod and took a step to her room, and, much to her shock, she found her heart sinking as he turned from her and led her up the wide, sweeping stairs.

  She could not believe it.

  She was. . .disappointed.

  It struck her with a terrible and wild power. She, Eloise Edgington, wished a man like him, the Earl of Hollybrook, to desire her.

  He could have any woman he wished. Why would he ever wish for a wallflower like her?

  She studied the wide breadth of his perfect back as they ascended, and a thought took root.

  She wasn’t going to be a wallflower anymore, was she?

  A secret smile tilted her lips ever so slightly.

  No, she was going to be an opera singer, the most fascinating one in London. She was determined. Perhaps then, a man like the earl would desire her as she wished.

  Chapter 8

  St. John strolled quickly down the hall towards his own chamber, the chamber he kept for himself whenever he had a mistress in residence.

  In every residence he owned, he always had a room to himself.

  A person always needed a place to go to escape. He threw open the oak door, strode to the silver grog tray, and poured himself out a large brandy into a perfect crystal snifter.

  He drank the rich liquid in one go and quickly poured another. He made short work of it.

  Bloody hell! What had just transpired? A damned wallflower had lit his blood aflame. Somehow, he’d convinced himself his interest at the house party had been imagined.

  It had not.

  Standing there in that crimson cloak, uttering phrases no chit of a girl usually dared to speak? He longed to pull her into his arms and take her in a fiery kiss, to call her his own, to brand her with his mouth.

  What the devil was happening to him?

  He was no green youth to be so driven by passion.

  She was not supposed to be of interest to him. Or anyone, until they had created her new persona.

  And yet he was interested, indeed.

  He stared down at his empty brandy snifter.

  It did not dull his desire for her.

  He thought of her alone, just down the hall, slipping off her chaste gown. How he’d love to slip her chemise from her body and teach her just what could happen between a man and a woman.

  He’d take her mouth, then kiss her all the way to the v of her thighs. He’d take his time, savoring her like a choice desert, licking every last morsel of her sweetness.

  Damnation. Apparently, it did not matter that she was plain, that her hair was arranged in the simplest fashion, that her frock was terrible, or that she knew nothing of seduction.

  None of that mattered.

  It was her intellect that drew him, her desire to be more, to have more in this life, that pulled him.

  So many went from the cradle to the grave, plodding along, never hoping for more. But not Miss Eloise Edgington. She wanted more. And she was going after it with a feisty passion that he could not help but truly admire and be in awe of.

  She was willing to upend her life for it, to risk ruination for it, to have her reputation destr
oyed for her dream.

  Who could say such a thing?

  Almost no one that he knew.

  And it was why he had stepped in.

  It was why he had decided to take her into his care and why he had decided to help her.

  He could not bear the idea of her in the hands of some unscrupulous man who would use her and abuse her with the promise of a place upon the stage.

  So many young ladies he knew who had longed to be Ophelias, Cleopatras, Lady Macbeths, or stars of the opera. They had been taken advantage of by men who promised them the glory of it all, only to be used and made into worse than mistresses.

  They did not become performers loved by all of Europe but women of the night who were taken again and again with little thought to the original joy and love of the stage or music that they had had.

  That fate would not befall Eloise Edgington.

  Not if he had anything to do with it.

  He did not care if he had to proclaim to the world that she was under his protection for the rest of their lives. Everyone would believe her to be his mistress. He didn’t care. Some things were worth it. He still prayed she had the talent, or it was all moot.

  But even so, he would protect her for as long as necessary. No one would bother her. No one would accost her, and she would be able to go about in the knowledge that, as his, no one would lay a finger upon her or risk his eternal ire.

  In all his life, he’d never had such a desire before, but there had been something about her that made it impossible for him to ignore her, to allow her to be hurt so brutally by a London that ate people up and spat them out.

  He had not even heard her sing yet.

  But he thought of her dancing eyes and witty tongue and knew he would not allow her to be ground up into the cogs of the city.

  No, he would do everything he could to fan the flame of her ambition and desire, because he saw in her the young man who had so longed to make his mark upon the city, who had so longed to do so many things and not been allowed to because of duty, because of society, the ton, his title.

  He could help her in a way that no one had ever helped him.