The accompanying footman jumped down as the door swung open and a deep male voice commanded firmly from inside, “Get in, Evelyn.”
Evelyn glanced to the carriage and back to the gorgeous man before her. She didn’t want to leave him here like this! She struggled a moment searching for something to say. “Sir…”
“Now, Evelyn!” the voice commanded again.
Francis nearly chuckled as she rolled her eyes and turned toward the carriage. “You don’t have to yell, you know! I am standing right here,” she grumbled as the footman helped her in.
“You’re a fine one to talk, lass,” came the deep voice again.
“You didn’t have to chase me down either,” Eve retorted sharply as she climbed into the vehicle with one last regretful look back. “I would have come back eventually.”
“Well, I couldn’t be sure of that either, could I now, lassie?” Francis could identify now a thick Irish brogue in the man’s voice. Obviously her father, he thought. Or rather, he hoped.
As the carriage started forward, the girl stuck her head from the window and raised a hand in a reluctant farewell. Feeling a sudden sense of something akin to panic, Francis took a step toward it but stopped himself. What was he thinking to do? Call out ‘Stand and deliver!’? He couldn’t make such a fool of himself. But then, what did it matter? She was just another woman after all, much like any other.
He turned and resumed his walk toward the park, but unable to help himself, his thoughts lingered on the lovely lass he had just encountered; wondering if he would ever see her again.
Chapter 3
“Ohh, Kitty!” Eve hugged her pillow tight and rolled back. “I can’t believe I didn’t even learn his name!” She closed her eyes and the image of the man’s handsome face came to her mind, dark hair, deep – almost mossy – green eyes. Just calling him to mind launched a cacophony of feelings inside of her that she couldn’t truly comprehend. Her heart beat frantically, her breathing grew shallow and butterflies filled her stomach. If she didn’t know better, Eve might have thought she was coming down with the ague. “I was just so angry at Da and Mama that it never even occurred to me to ask. Also, I was simply so stunned,” she nodded emphatically, “yes, stunned, by him.” She banged her head into the pillow. “If I have not met him this entire time we’ve been in London, there is little chance I’ll see him again.”
They had been readying themselves for bed for nearly fifteen minutes already but Kitty was fairly certain that her sister’s bemoanment over her meeting with a strange man was not going to be over any time soon. It was amusing, really. Eve wasn’t normally one to become all aflutter over any man. Why, over the past three months since they had arrived in London for the Season, Eve had not yet become even slightly enamored of any man, be he lord or prince. It simply wasn’t her way.
“Well, he was walking up our street, perhaps he knows someone here,” Kitty reasoned as she perched on the side of the bed. “Lady Hyde is having her ball tomorrow evening; perhaps we could ask her then if she knows of him or whom he was visiting.”
Eve bounced up on her knees and waved her pillow toward her sister, a shiver of excitement in her eyes. “Or, or… I know! we can call on every neighbor on the street tomorrow and ask about him!”
“Eve, really,” Kitty admonished, though her eyes were dancing with amusement. “You cannot just ask everyone if they know him. It would not be proper.”
“You’re so strait-laced Kitty.” It was true, Eve thought. Between the two of them, Kitty was definitely the sister who was better at walking the right side of the proprietal line. Kitty and Evelyn had grown up in a society of ritual, rules and customs, where proper Form and Taste were to be adhered to above all. Lelan Preston often teased Eve that they left upholding their social position to his wife and younger daughter. It was a world in which Kitty excelled under the tutelage of her mother, sure to follow Mrs. Preston as a premier hostess of their set. Kitty, just a year younger than Evelyn, was certainly the more ideal debutante of the pair. She was witty and charming yet soft-spoken. A perfect socialite.
Evelyn, on the other hand, did not take to Society’s rules as well as her sister. Certainly, she could run the large Preston households very well, directing servants and planning menus. She spoke three languages fluently and could be very witty and entertaining over tea. And, to give her fair credit, one could say that Evelyn was equally aware of the conformity of Society. She simply chose, from time to time, not to conform.
New York’s Knickerbocker set extended approval to Evelyn and her father with affection tempered by tolerance of their difficulties bending to the acceptable form of the times. Her Da was one for doing as he wanted, damn the consequences and had always encouraged his daughters to do the same. They may have lived in a society of rules and rituals, but Lelan Preston had never been very good at consistently doing what was polite and proper. After all that, both father and daughter could charm anyone they met down to the matrons of the oldest families on the social register.
Her father had travelled a long road since he had immigrated to New York from Ireland nearly forty years before. Despite his marriage to Margaret Winters, a distant cousin to the Astors, and the fortune he had accumulated, it had taken Preston some time to become truly accepted into the Old New York Society. Evelyn and Katherine, whom they all called Kitty, were born shortly after the end of the war in 1865. The family they created had softened the Winters and Astor families to him. Their position in Society became secure when they were listed among the ‘400’. The elite of Society as determined by Mrs. Caroline Astor, the ‘400’ was actually named for the number of people who would fit in the ballroom of her 5th Avenue mansion. It consisted of 213 families of established social background whose lineage could be traced back at least three generations.
It was a place secured by his wife’s heritage, but Preston did not stop his quest to become one of the richest men in America. By the time the girls had made their debut, he was worth over 100 million dollars.
What charm alone had not overcome, wealth had forgiven.
“He was a Scot, I think,” Eve contemplated out loud as her mind wandered back to the mysterious man she had met. Kitty was letting down her hair at the dressing table now and Eve moved to join her. Taking the brush from their maid’s hand, Eve dismissed her and proceeded to brush her sister’s hair as they had done all their lives. “I recognize his accent now that I’ve had time to reflect on it. Maybe Abby or Moira would know who he is.”
Abygail Merrill and Moira MacKenzie were the sisters’ two dearest friends from The Folkestone Academy for Young Ladies – a veritable prison of a finishing school they had all attended together until almost two years ago when Eve had graduated and moved on to university. Eve and Kitty had been outcasts at the elite school from the beginning of their stay six years before, simply for being American while Abby and Moira had faced equal disdain for their Scottish heritage. And, except for Abby, they were all heiresses of obscene wealth which was enough to prompt animosity from the academy’s other students without further cause.
Where Eve and Kitty were sisters true, Abby and Moira were sisters at heart having grown up near each other. Moira had actually begged her father to send her down to the academy when she had found out Abby was going. They had spent the better part of their time serving the punishments that the headmistress, Miss Stapleton, continued to heap on them each time they decided to have a little fun. For four years, the quartet had run wild together becoming inseparable, the best of friends, and getting into more trouble than any other students in the history of the school.
“Should I write them and ask, do you think?” Eve asked tying a ribbon at the bottom of the long plait she had just completed.
Taking the brush and pushing her sister into the chair for her turn, Kitty shook her head and giggled at Eve’s obsession. “Dearest, even if you had an actual name, Abby and Moira do not know every man in Scotland.”
“They might,” Eve argued.
“Th
ey probably don’t.”
“Improbable but not impossible.”
Kitty continued to brush and braid and finally gave her sister a pat. “There, you are done now.”
Eve sighed heavily. “Not that it would matter. Da has all but engaged me to that stuffy old man, Lord Hindon.”
“He’s not that old.” Kitty’s soft voice tempered her comment.
Eve merely shrugged. “And you know mother would never let me choose some mere gentleman over a future earl.”
“True.”
“But, ohh, Kitty! When he looked at me…”
“What?” her sister urged as she turned down the covers on her side of the bed and climbed in. A dollop of envy descended upon Kitty as she listened to Eve and watched her sister’s face light up as she spoke about her mystery man. She had never met a gentleman who had caused her such flights. Never met a man who made her feel anything like the sisters had dreamed of. She wanted to very badly. “Was it like a fairy tale? Was it like everything we always dreamed of?”
“My heart fairly stopped, I swear it!” Eve giggled, climbing into their bed and hugging her pillow close again. “It was like a fairy tale meeting. The stuff of dreams. I never imagined that such immediate feeling was actually possible.” The idea of love at first sight chased through her mind, but Eve dismissed it as a girlish idea. “But I’ve never looked at a man before and just had the thought leap into my mind that I had to know his kiss.”
“No!”
“Yes!” Eve nodded emphatically. She turned down the lantern next to the bed and smiled dreamily into the darkness. “And, somehow, some way, Kitty… I know I will find out!”
Chapter 4
Half Moon Street
London, England
The next evening
“Kitty, it’s just no use!” Evelyn’s voice was fraught with exasperation. “There are just too many people here! I have not been able to engage Lady Hyde in conversation for more than a few seconds and if he is here, I could never see him for the crush!” Indeed, the assembly room of Lady Hyde’s townhouse was packed to the rafters with London’s finest Society. And Lady Hyde was probably pleased as punch in spite of the heat generated by so many bodies. Eve was so very uncomfortable under her long corset, though her agitation over her target’s failure to appear certainly did little to ease her discomfort. She circled the ballroom a dozen times in search of the man who so captured her attention, tempting her mother’s wrath while rudely ignoring any other gentleman who might beg a dance from her.
“Worry not, dear,” Kitty tried to reassure her. “We shall keep looking. I am engaged for the next set with Sir Melton, but as soon as we’re done we can take another turn about the room. If you had let anyone fill in your dance card, you would have had something to do other than worry over this,” she chided.
“I wanted to be able to dance with him in case he asked.” Eve sighed.
“And instead, you have stood to the side for most of the evening and there are only two sets remaining before supper,” Kitty chastised.
“Leave me, Kat, and go enjoy your dance.” Eve continued her perusal of the room. “I know Sir Melton is very handsome and dashing.”
“True, but I don’t feel that I have to know his kiss,” her sister teased, bringing a blush to Eve’s cheeks.
“Very amusing, dear sister, but one day…” Kitty turned as her sister froze and clenched her arm. “Kat, it’s him!”
“Where?” she demanded, scanning the room in the direction Eve was staring.
“He’s making his bow to Lady Hyde and walking toward the… oh, no!” Eve clenched her sister’s arm again even as her heart raced. “Kitty, he’s leaving! Oh, he can’t leave!”
Kitty tried to pry her arm from the death grip Eve had on her. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m going after him! That’s what I’m doing!” She grabbed up her skirts and started toward the door before swinging nervously back to her beloved sister, petting down her heavy skirts. “Kat? How do I look?”
Eve was in one of her many Worth gowns that had been made up for the Season. This one a heavy pale yellow silk with a center panel of floral embroidery. Her shoulders were bared by the wide neckline. She wore no jewelry, only small flowers tucked into her curls. She knew that the color flattered her and had been offered a multitude of compliments this evening but none were from him. Suddenly, nothing seemed to matter beyond what he thought. “You are beautiful, of course!” With a laugh, Kitty waved Eve away. “Go, dear! Run! I will divert Mother!”
“Oh, thank you!” Eve dashed into the crowd and wound her way through the dense crush avoiding eyes and calls for her attention. As quickly as she could, she made for the door but as she stumbled to the bottom of the front steps to the townhouse, she knew that it had just taken too long to work her way out. “Oh damn, damn, damn!” she muttered in frustration.
A warm hand slid around her bare arm just above her glove causing her to jump in surprise. With a squeal she tried to pull away.
But Francis simply took her hand and tucked it in the corner of his elbow. Turning, he led her around the corner of the townhouse and toward the rear gardens. “Smart-mouthed and saucy. How very intriguing,” he commented, as if their previous meeting had never been interrupted. “What has you so vexed, lass?”
“It’s you!”
“And it is you, as well. I must admit I was hoping to see you again,” he confessed to his own surprise, unaware that his low warm brogue was sending shivers of heat down her spine. It was an understatement to say the least. He had been torn the previous afternoon and part of this morning with presenting himself at the residence four doors down from his grandmother, but how to introduce himself if she wasn’t evident in the front hall? Ask for the daughter of the house? What if she had been merely visiting? A possibility to be sure. When she had ridden away in that carriage, he had feared that he might not see her again and yet dreaded that he might. So taken aback by this bizarre attraction was he. Using his better judgment, he had waited, taking a chance that his grandmother would invite her neighbors this evening. Of course, she had. Lady Hyde was nothing if not courteous to her neighbors. She had been there! But when he had spotted his mystery lass earlier this evening, she had looked at him blankly as if she did not recognize him. He had been disappointed, but his logical side said that perhaps that was for the best considering the circumstances.
“You were?” she sighed breathlessly, then mentally kicked herself for sounding like such a school girl. “I didn’t imagine I would see you here this evening,” Eve lied casually.
“Lady Hyde is my grandmother, so I really had no choice.” Francis savored the feel of her hand on his arm. The attraction he had felt the previous day had not faded in the slightest. Indeed, he would have to say that it had grown. “When I spotted you earlier this evening, you did not seem to recognize me. I thought perhaps I had made little impression on you despite the one you made on me.”
Eve frowned in return. “I’ve been looking for you all– I mean, I did not see you earlier…” Her eyes widened and she flashed him a grin. The smile, the first he had seen from her, sent a bolt of awareness through him. “That must have been Kitty you saw earlier,” she explained. “She is my sister. Most cannot tell us apart at all, we look so much alike.”
“Ahh,” Francis nodded and gave her a sweeping look from top to bottom, “of course, now I see that the gown and hair were different. I must say my own twin brothers do not resemble each other as much as you two.”
“We’re not twins at all, but many have said that it is uncanny, our resemblance.”
“It is indeed.” He turned into a side gate that led back to the gardens behind his grandmother’s house. “So, here we are strolling now, much as we would have done if your father had not interrupted us before. It was your father, aye?”
At her nod, he continued, pushing aside the feeling of relief, “Was he the source of your ire?”
“My ire? Oh, well yes, I… u
mmm, suppose. Da and I are always at loggerheads with one another. It’s the Irish in us,” Eve tried to think of something intelligent to speak of as they entered the garden. She wanted to seem more sophisticated but could think of nothing. “It’s a lovely garden, isn’t it?”
“Aye, lovely,” he repeated staring down at her with a feeling akin to wonder, and then shook his head to recall himself to her observation. “A passion of my grandmother’s.”
“I would have thought you a Scot considering your accent. However, I don’t believe Lady Hyde is.” Admittedly, she was grasping at the straws of polite conversation, but she could think of nothing regarding the weather that seemed appropriate in this situation.
“Aye, lassie, Scots I am,” he answered, letting all his brogue show through and charming a smile from her. “Probably a good thing too since I recently heard curses being rained down on the heads of ‘all idiot Englishmen’.”
Eve had the good grace to blush. “You heard that, did you?”
“Lass, I would imagine that the western portion of Mayfair heard you as well.” The left corner of his lip quirked up again in that tantalizing half-grin and Evelyn was reminded of how clearly enthralling those lips had been just a day ago. He stopped and turned to look down at her lovely face. “If you won’t tell me what had put you into such a bonny temper, perhaps you might at least give me your name?”
Evelyn was nonplussed by the change of topic and parroted, “My name?”
“Evelyn, was it not? Your Christian name?” His eyes never leaving hers, his warm rough hand slid down her arm. Pausing briefly at the top of her glove, he slipped his hand down into hers and their fingers entwined. “What do your friends call you?”
Evelyn was again entranced by the intensity and heat of his gaze, but torn by the sensation of his fingers stroking the inside of her palm. “Eve,” she whispered.
A Question of Love (Questions For A Highlander Book 1) Page 2
