‘No, we did not.’ Evie sighed. ‘I am hoping they show up tomorrow.’
‘Speaking of tomorrow,’ Dimitri interrupted swiftly, ‘it’s late and there’s a lot to do with the site and the gala. Andrew, you and I should take our leave.’
They managed a civil getaway, each of them in their own carriages, and Dimitri drew a sigh of relief when Evie’s house was behind them. But it wasn’t over. Andrew signalled they should pull off to the side of the road and Dimitri steeled himself. Better to settle it between the two of them privately than in front of Evie and her parents.
Andrew jumped down and met him between the carriages, his temper evident even at a distance. ‘You couldn’t keep it in your trousers, could you?’ Andrew shoved him hard, but Dimitri was braced for it. ‘I knew something was going on when I saw the two of you at breakfast! I should have said something then.’ Andrew shoved at him again. This time Dimitri grabbed his arm.
‘You forget yourself,’ he warned.
‘Oh, right,’ Andrew sneered. ‘You’re a prince of the royal house of Kuban and can’t be touched.’
‘No,’ Dimitri countered, letting go of Andrew’s arm with force. ‘Because I’m better in a fight than you are. You remember Crete?’
‘I remember Crete.’ Andrew spat, beginning to circle, fists up, forcing Dimitri to do the same. ‘I remember that I had your back that night.’
This was going to come to violence. Andrew was mad and Andrew was at his least logical when he was angry. ‘I had your back,’ he repeated, ‘which is a sight more than I can say for you these days. “Working late”? I doubt it. “Looking for lost artefacts”? Where? In your trousers, in that damn bed of yours?’
‘Be careful of your accusations,’ Dimitri warned, his own temper straining at its leash. ‘I will not tolerate Evie being slandered.’ A fist in Andrew’s face would feel good right now and the bastard had just about earned it.
‘Not even when it’s true? Do you think I can’t tell when a woman’s been bedded? What were you thinking? That we’re stupid country folk because we don’t have a kingdom waiting for us? That you can come here and do whatever you like?’
‘Why do you care at all?’ All this righteous anger was more than a bit suspicious, especially when it was aimed at a woman Andrew had sworn he had no interest in.
‘Because you’re here! Because this is my town.’ Of course. He should have known. Jealousy. It was always about Andrew. Andrew was the centre of his own universe. ‘I invite you into my village and in the matter of a month, you manage to turn our most innocent spinster into a wanton whore.’
That earned it. The words had barely left Andrew’s mouth before Dimitri’s fist connected with his jaw. Andrew’s head snapped back, he reeled back hard against the tailgate of the curricle, grasping at it for balance, his other hand clutching his face. ‘What the hell was that for?’
‘No one calls Evie Milham a whore. Our discussion is over.’ Dimitri turned and sprang up into his carriage. If he stayed, he’d give Andrew worse than a sore jaw. Never mind that Andrew had spoken the truth, even if he disagreed with some of Andrew’s adjectives. Evie was no more a spinster than she was a loose woman. But that didn’t change the fact that he’d made a royal mess out of everything. He’d punched his so-called friend, had a thief on his hands just weeks before the important gala, he’d bedded a virgin and managed to do the one thing his father had warned him never to do: he’d fallen in love.
* * *
That disaster haunted him long after he had left Evie and returned to his pavilion, long after he lay on his empty bed staring up at the ceiling of that pavilion, trying not to think about Evie in this same bed that still smelled of her. His father had spent years warning him about the ills of love, how it could ruin a man. He’d seen the truth of it. His father was a good man, had raised him well, but his father had become a shadow of his former self. He was an ember, not a flame after his wife had passed. Love could indeed make a strong man weak. But his father had never told him love could also make a man powerful, brave enough to overcome impossible obstacles, or at least brave enough to try.
He ran through options in his mind. What if he took Evie back to Kuban? It would solve the returning issue. He’d be back before he turned thirty as required and perhaps some way could be found to spare his sister the marriage with the sultan’s son. Even so, what would that do to Evie? To leave Little Westbury?
What a disaster that would be.
Wedding him would be like opening Pandora’s box—there would be all nature of nastiness inside. Dimitri tucked his hands behind his head. Had Evie even thought of what marriage to a prince would require? But he had and it would be an unmitigated catastrophe. Perhaps this was why the Kubanian court had such strict laws about marriage requirements. Only other royalty could truly understand the burdens and duties that came with their position.
A commoner would be overwhelmed, and an outsider? ‘Overwhelmed’ didn’t begin to cover it. If the culture shock and the language weren’t enough to finish off a foreign wife, the court politics would be. The court would not be a friendly place for an unwelcome foreigner who had disrupted years of plans and he would not always be there to shield Evie from the worst of it.
There would be things she loved, though, things he would love showing her. The mountain trails full of wildflowers in the spring, the crystal rivers full of pure, cold glacier water, his house in the country where he’d grown up, where he’d played as child in the tall grasses of the fields. He could imagine too well his own sons running in those same fields. In that regard, he and Evie weren’t all that dissimilar. Family was important to them both. Evie would be a good mother. She would make a good home, where children would be encouraged to be themselves. She would be kind and patient.
He had to stop his thoughts right there. Returning to Kuban would be a compromise of the worst sort , one that would leave both of them unhappy—Evie because she wouldn’t fit in no matter how hard she tried. It would be like her debut in London, only worse. For him, he’d be tied to Kuban, tied to his royal position. The distaste that left him with was insightful and assuring. He wasn’t considering giving up Kuban for Evie alone, but for himself, a reminder that this wasn’t the first time he’d thought these things, toyed with these ideas. It was merely the first time thoughts of Evie had been tied to those mad schemes.
He got out of bed. Bed would only make it worse tonight. She was there in the sheets with him. He wished there was someone to talk to. In Kuban, he’d have talked with his friends but they were a thousand miles away and he’d punched the one so-called friend he had here in the face. Andrew wouldn’t be a willing conversationalist just now.
Dimitri reached for the decanter of vodka and poured a glass, sitting down hard on the divan. Did he dare think about it? He knew the path these thoughts led down—the path towards the most treacherous thought: what if he walked away from it all? What if there was a way to save his sister and decide for himself the course of his life? If all that were possible, would he do it? Would he give up being a prince? Would he give up Kuban?
Kuban was a ‘thing’, but to give up one’s kingdom was never a small consideration. It was the kind of decision one could not step back from and re-do. There would only be going forward. It was a hypothetical game, only. For him, there was no way to do it without forcing his sister to take his place on the marriage altar. Even if he could find a way out, it was a difficult decision. What if he traded the life he knew for the life he thought he wanted, only to be disappointed?
It was a dangerous game to play. But tonight the words ‘what if’ kept whispering in his head, insistent and haunting. What the hell was he going to do? Normally, when faced with a problem, he would write out all of his options and discuss them with his friends over vodka until a solution presented itself. But his options in this case were so extreme as to be ludicrous. He couldn�
��t imagine seriously contemplating any of them.
Perhaps if he pretended his friends were here? What would they say? He closed his eyes, trying to imagine it. Illarion, ever the dreamer, would commiserate with him as if the heartache were his own. He’d drink too much vodka and spout long lines from Russian literature about the fatal nature of love. There were no solutions there, but everyone needed a friend like Illarion to simply help one feel better.
Fierce, temperamental Nikolay would insist he marry for love, when what Nikolay really meant was that he should marry simply to spite the system. Nikolay despised the system developed in Kuban for keeping the peace. He rebelled against it at every turn and encouraged others to do so as well, even though he’d been warned several times that his actions bordered on treason.
Dimitri poured another glass. He played out in his mind how that scene would go. Nikolay would rise to his feet, pumping a fist in the air, probably voicing a few treasonous profanities before launching into a speech about how the court made whores of their royal sons by forcing these marriages, followed up by a personal plea that Dimitri break the contract and refuse Ayfer.
At which point, before Nikolay could get entirely worked up, Stepan would interject with a pointedly lazy drawl, ‘And do what? Leave Kuban for ever? Turn his back on wealth and security? It is easy to speak of rebellion when it costs you nothing, Nikolay. But you are asking Dimitri to give up everything. You haven’t the faintest clue what that even means.’ The two would want to fight. Stepan and Nikolay had been fighting as long as Dimitri had known them and that was almost twenty years.
Ruslan would intervene, the inveterate peacemaker. He’d been the voice of reason between those two since he was ten. Dimitri could hear him taking Stepan’s argument to its logical conclusion. ‘It is unfortunate, but there is nothing for it. You must give up the English girl. You must honour the contract and marry Ayfer. The good of the many must always precede the good of the few. In time, you’ll see it is for your own good too. Your whole life is in Kuban.’
Yulian would simply drink his vodka and glare his not-so-hidden resentment at his second cousin. Dimitri knew what Yulian would think—that he was a disgrace to the family. Yulian resented the fact that Dimitri had left for this Grand Tour of sorts throughout Europe. But Dimitri had wanted one more adventure, one more taste of freedom. Yulian believed he should have stayed and married Ayfer immediately, not waited. It was what Yulian would have done. Yulian was eager to prove himself to Kuban, eager to be a leader at court. There was some irony that the most eager among them was the one who didn’t have vast plans already established for their future. Dimitri wished he was more eager to do his duty. It would make life simpler. Sometimes, Yulian’s patriotic devotion shamed him.
Those were his options. Nothing new. Nothing he hadn’t already thought of. Either he returned to Kuban and used his marriage to ensure peace on the border or throw it all away and stay for Evie, even knowing that he risked something larger than his family’s pride, larger than his sister’s future: the peace of a nation. Put that way, the choice seemed obvious. What honourable man risked all of that for a woman? Only the most self-serving scoundrel. He could not be that man. It was going to be a long, empty night.
Chapter Twenty-One
Evie couldn’t stop smiling. It was making it difficult to focus on work and she needed to get these drawings done, but she’d spent more time covertly tracing her lips, tracing Dimitri’s kisses on those lips, than she had drawing the latest artefact, a lovely bowl that had been found in two pieces and repaired. It would be a fabulous addition to the display she’d planned for the gala.
‘You look like the cat who got the cream. What has you all smiles? Did we turn up a fabulous artefact today?’ Andrew teased, startling her into nearly blotting the drawing. She hadn’t even heard him approach. He took up his customary hitched-leg pose at the table.
‘Is it that late already?’ Surely the day wasn’t over. She wasn’t ready to leave, but she needed to place an order for the gala at the stationer’s. Andrew could take her on the way home.
‘Almost.’ Andrew grinned, looking golden and well turned out in pale tan trousers and an expensively made tight-fitted blue coat of summer weight superfine. He was in a cheery mood. He cocked his head, taking in her paper. That’s when she noticed it. Evie gasped.
‘Andrew, what’s wrong with your face? Your jaw is bruised.’ He looked like he’d been in a fight. That seemed preposterous. Gentlemen didn’t... Then she remembered how the evening had ended, with Dimitri driving her home and Andrew waiting there for her. Well, ostensibly he’d come to talk history with her father, but Evie suspected otherwise.
‘Oh, this?’ Andrew gingerly touched his jaw. ‘This beauty is courtesy of the Prince, a royal shiner.’ He laughed carefully as if the movement hurt. Evie winced. It probably did.
‘I’ll be ready to go in a minute.’ Evie rose and put her things away. The drawing would have to wait. She didn’t dare look for excuses to linger in the hope of seeing Dimitri, not if her suspicions were right. They’d fought over her and that couldn’t mean anything good, except that Dimitri had got the better end of things. She’d seen him this morning. He’d looked tired, but he hadn’t been sporting bruises. ‘Perhaps you can drop me by the stationer’s? I have invitations to order for the gala.’
Andrew managed another smile. ‘I’ll drop you anywhere you like, Evie. I am entirely at your disposal.’
* * *
Oh, what a difference a month made, Evie thought during the short drive into the village. Once upon a time not so long ago, she would have basked in the glow of Andrew’s smile. Now, if it hadn’t been for the chance to ride into Little Westbury and manage the invitations for Dimitri, she would have chosen to stay behind at the site.
In that other world, she would have been thrilled to drive into town with Andrew. Everyone would see them together. Women always noticed when Andrew was around. She used to notice when Andrew was around too. She could tell the exact moment he walked into a room, but she hadn’t in a while. Everything had unfolded the way May had hinted it would if another man was involved. Apparently, men found a woman more appealing if another showed interest in her. But if that was what it took, she was doubly glad she’d let Andrew go. She didn’t want to be a prize. Being with Dimitri, she’d learned she was so much more than that.
They pulled up outside the stationer’s and Andrew helped her down. ‘You look pretty today, Evie. Is that a new bonnet?’
‘I re-trimmed it, so, yes, it’s sort of new.’ Evie touched the wide blue ribbons. She’d forgotten which bonnet it was. When she’d dressed this morning, she’d only thought about getting out to the site as quickly as possible.
‘It brings out your eyes.’ Andrew offered her his arm. It was a lovely compliment, one that showed he’d paid attention to the little details of her—the colour of her eyes, whether or not he’d seen the bonnet before. But it fell short when measured against other more intimate compliments. You’d make a blancmange hard, Evie.
The little bell over the stationer’s jingled and she was glad to have something else to focus on beside hard blancmange. Evie smiled at Andrew, standing patiently beside her. ‘Let’s look at samples. You can help me decide between white and ecru.’
* * *
Was there a difference? White, onion, oyster, ivory, pearl, eggshell, alabaster—it was all the same to him. Andrew tried to hide his impatience. Evie was being nice, wanting to include him in the process, Evie was always being nice. Look where it had got her. Now, she was stuck planning Dimitri’s party. When he’d suggested the party, he’d never intended that to happen. He’d hoped to use the party as a chance to lure Cecilia Northam to town. She’d be a fine prospective bride.
Evie didn’t even want to plan the party, but she was being nice. He hated all that niceness, except when that niceness worked for him and i
t was working splendidly for him. That was why he had to be patient. He needed that niceness to keep her working for him. He needed those drawings and, shortly, he’d need more. That was why he’d driven into Little Westbury with her, why he drove her home every night, why he hadn’t dared to spend an evening with the luscious and willing Lady Fairfield five miles from here in case anyone caught wind of his old affair heating up again. Think about the money. He had been paid well for the first instalment of her drawings. He’d be paid well too for the sale of some artefacts to another dealer if he could get his hands on them. That was where the real money was.
‘Do you like the ivory or the alabaster?’ Evie held up two samples.
‘Ivory.’ Andrew smiled. ‘I think it offers a hint of elegance and a sense of the antique.’ Just order the damn invitations. ‘When did you say the gala was?’
‘Two weeks from tomorrow.’ Evie handed the sample to the stationer and gave the information.
Two weeks was perfect. Andrew began to feel a little more charitable. The gala would be the ideal evening for something to go missing. There would be too many people around to pin it on any one person. Andrew found one more smile to cover his boredom. ‘Tell me, Evie, what other grand items has the Prince uncovered?’ He was going to need more than pretty combs and spearheads if he was going to make money. It was always good to think optimistically. If he was going to pull off a heist, he wanted to make it a good one.
‘There’s a bowl. It was found nearly whole.’ Evie signed the bill. ‘Now you can take me home.’
‘So soon?’ Andrew cajoled. ‘How about a short walk first, the leaves are beginning to turn.’
‘I have a lot to do,’ Evie prevaricated. This was new. Evie didn’t want to spend time with him? Further proof his suspicions were more than that. He’d have to test that hypothesis.
‘You’ve changed, Evie,’ Andrew said, leading them out to the perimeter of the village where a stand of trees offered early autumn colour. ‘Once, a walk with me anywhere would have made your day. Now, you barely have time for me,’ he teased, trying to sound hurt.
AWAKENING THE SHY MISS Page 17
