by Cheryl Holt
“Yes, I have an enormous amount of gall. Now where is she?”
Iggy stood, probably thinking he looked very grand when, actually, he looked like an angry, skinny scarecrow.
“For shame, Cousin Aaron! For shame!”
“What are you babbling about?”
“Your fiancée is at Fox Run, yet you’re chasing about the neighborhood in search of your paramour. Does Miss Cummings know where you are? Shall I send her a note and invite her to join us?”
Aaron was amazed that Iggy had the temerity to scold Aaron, but he ignored his cousin’s fit of pique and kept on. “My personal life is none of your business.”
“Not my business?” Iggy sputtered. “You cheat on your fiancée. You betray me, your blood kin. You’re so unable to control your rampant lust that you ruin my engagement. You woo my fiancée until she ridiculously believes you might marry her. You make her your whore, and you—”
“What did you call her?”
“She’s a whore! How else should I describe a woman who has squandered her virginity on a worthless libertine such as yourself?”
Aaron was around the desk in a flash. He hit Iggy so hard that the pathetic idiot flew back and crashed into his bookshelf. Books tumbled down and pummeled him on the head and shoulders.
Aaron bent over and grabbed Iggy by his shirt, pulling him up so they were nose to nose. “Don’t you speak a derogatory word about her ever again. In fact, don’t ever speak about her again.”
The door banged open, and Gertrude rushed in. As she saw Iggy on the floor, she shrieked, “Oh, my Lord! Aaron, are you mad? Ignatius, my darling boy!”
She hurried over and tried to muscle Aaron out of the way, but he wouldn’t budge, wouldn’t release Iggy’s shirt. She hovered on the edge of their quarrel, nervously wringing her hands.
“Did Miss Etherton say where she was going?” Aaron asked Iggy.
“I don’t care where that whore went.”
“You’re a slow learner, aren’t you, Iggy?”
Gertrude wailed with dismay as Aaron hit him again and he slumped down. Aaron straightened, and as he did, he was stunned to find Evangeline’s goddess statue on one of the bookshelves. The discovery was terribly unsettling.
She would never have parted with it. Why would Iggy have it? Had he harmed Evangeline? When she’d cried off, had he grown enraged and murdered her? Was she locked in the basement and being tortured for spurning him? What? What?
Wild, violent scenarios careened through his mind, but he shook them away. Mrs. Turner had seen Evangeline leave the vicarage unmolested.
He stuck the statue in Iggy’s face and demanded, “Where did you get this?”
“I took it from your harl—” Iggy stopped just in time so he didn’t utter the term harlot. “I took it from Miss Etherton. Despite what you seem to assume, I am the vicar in this parish. I will not condone illicit fornication, and I will not tolerate idolatry.”
Aaron slipped the statue into his pocket.
“I’m searching for her, Iggy, and you’d better hope she’s all right.”
“Why should I worry about that?”
“She would never have willingly given you this statue.”
“Of course not, but I will not abide pagan rituals, and I won’t pretend about it. Not even for you, Cousin.”
Iggy spat the word cousin, apprising Aaron of how tediously he’d overstayed his welcome.
“If you’ve hurt her,” Aaron warned, “if you bruised so much as a single hair on her head, I’ll come back and kill you.”
“Aaron!” Gertrude wheezed. “What is wrong with you? I’ve had enough. Get out of here, and the minute you depart, I’m writing to your father to tell him how you’ve acted toward us.”
“Yes, please tell him everything, and in the interim, know this.”
“What?” Gertrude mulishly asked.
“The two of you need to start packing.”
“Packing!” Iggy snapped. “Why?”
“The people of this parish—myself included—are sick of both of you. The moment my affairs calm, I intend to have you removed as vicar.”
“You can’t fire me,” Iggy claimed.
“We’ll see what I can do,” Aaron said.
He whipped away and stormed out.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“What now?”
“What…now? You think I have an answer?”
Aaron spun away from Bryce and hurled his brandy glass to the floor. It shattered into a dozen pieces, shards flying everywhere.
“Feel better?” Bryce snidely asked.
“No, and why are you still here? Why didn’t you sneak away with Florella?”
“I was smart enough to cower in my room so Miss Cummings had no chance to threaten me.”
“She must have scared the devil out of Florella to convince her to skitter off like that.”
“Florella wasn’t scared,” Bryce scoffed. “She was simply worried that—if she’d stayed on—she might have taken after Miss Cummings with a fireplace poker. She has that sort of temper, so she figured she should leave rather than remain and make matters worse.”
“I don’t see how they could have been worse,” Aaron glumly said.
“Tell me you’re not marrying that little harridan.”
Aaron threw up his hands. “What can I do? The ceremony is in two weeks, and my father has frittered away the dowry money. We can’t repay it.”
“He spent your money?”
“He claimed it belonged to the estate, not to me.”
“That was brash of him.”
“If I cried off and there had to be a reimbursement to Claudia, I’m sure Lord Sidwell would insist that—even though he spent the money—I am the groom so I should square the accounts.”
“Oh, of course, he would. He has you roped in.”
“Yes.”
“What about Evangeline?”
“What about her?” Aaron petulantly responded.
“I should probably urge you to honor your commitments and all that nonsense.”
“But…?”
“But if you marry Priscilla, you’ll be miserable forever.”
“That’s what my brother told me.”
“Usually I’d declare Lucas to be an unreliable idiot, but in this case, he might be on to something.”
They were in the main parlor at Fox Run, the day having waned, the house quiet with everyone gone. Aaron had passed the afternoon in a frenzy of activity, organizing searches, writing letters to James Talbot and Lucas. He’d stirred up the neighborhood by sending out footmen to inquire after Evangeline. No one had seen her, and word that she was missing had spread like wildfire.
Iggy was generally loathed, so people were tittering over what he might have done to Evangeline to chase her away. They were angry about the situation too. She’d charmed them, and they’d wanted her to be Iggy’s bride so she’d be part of the community. With the congregation already deeming Iggy a fool, the debacle didn’t bode well for his reputation as their spiritual leader.
Aaron glared at Bryce. “Are you positive Florella didn’t mention she was taking Evangeline to London with her?”
“No, Aaron. As I’ve explained a thousand times, she went alone.”
“If Florella did take her, would she let Evangeline stay with her once they arrived?”
“I suppose. She liked Evangeline very much. I don’t know how Evangeline would feel about it though. Florella’s morals might have been too relaxed for Evangeline.”
“Yes, they were.”
“It’s why I can’t imagine them totting off together.”
“Neither can I,” Aaron muttered, “but still, we’d better head to London first thing in the morning.”
“Yes, we’d better.”
“I’m just sick about this. As far as I’m aware, Evangeline didn’t have a penny in her purse, and if she’s in trouble, it’s all my fault.”
Bryce smirked. “May I please say, I told you so?”
“No, you
may not.”
Bryce ignored Aaron and continued with his chastisement. “I specifically warned you about the mess you’d stirred.”
“I don’t need to hear about it now.”
“In fact, right before we realized Miss Cummings and her mother were on the premises, I swore you’d never be able to keep your liaison a secret.”
“Shut up, Bryce!”
“Who tattled to them about her? Are your servants paid spies? Are they sending reports to Mrs. Cummings?”
“It was my father.”
Bryce scoffed. “Nice family you have, Aaron. It makes me glad I’m an orphan.”
“When I informed him I wanted to cry off from Priscilla and wed Evangeline instead, he about had an apoplexy.”
“So did I when you initially suggested it, but I’ve changed my mind.”
“What? You think I should marry Evangeline?”
“I have no opinion about that, and I’m not about to advise you on the subject. What I can tell you is that you shouldn’t marry Priscilla.”
“That seems to be the common view—well, according to everyone but my father and her mother. I’m so sick of both of them. They order me about as if I’m still a lad in short pants. I’d like to elope with Evangeline just to spite them.”
“You’ll have to find her first,” Bryce chided, “and you’ll have to convince her that you’re not a lying, deceitful swine. You’re not that persuasive.”
“She was crazy about me once. She could be again.”
“In your dreams maybe.”
Their conversation dwindled, and Bryce forced himself over to the sideboard and poured Aaron another glass of brandy—which he definitely didn’t need—then plopped down in his chair again.
Aaron was staring into the fire, lost in contemplation, and he reached into his pocket and pulled out Evangeline’s goddess statue. He ran his thumb over the intricate carving.
Where are you, Evangeline? Will you ever forgive me?
“Let me see that,” Bryce suddenly said.
“What?”
Bryce leaned forward. “What have you there? Let me see it.”
“It’s nothing.” Aaron was as reluctant to relinquish it as Evangeline had been.
“Where did you get it?” Bryce yanked it out of Aaron’s hand, and he gaped at it, appearing stricken.
“It’s Evangeline’s. She always carried it. She’d set it on the harpsichord when she played. She liked looking at it.”
“Oh, my God…” Bryce murmured.
“When she stopped by the vicarage, I’m not certain if she dropped it or what, but Iggy found it somehow and took it from her.”
“It can’t be true, but it must be!”
“What, Bryce? You’re scaring me.”
“How did she come to have it?”
“She thought it might have been her mother’s, but she wasn’t sure. It was given to her when she was very small.”
“And she kept it all these years,” Bryce breathed.
“What are you talking about?” Aaron asked.
“It was her mother’s.” Bryce pointed to the bottom of the statue where two very faint initials, AB, were visible. “See? AB. Anne Blair. Her mother.”
“You know this because…?”
“She was my mother too.”
“But then…that would make Evangeline your sister.”
“Yes, but her name isn’t Evangeline. It’s Anne Blair, just like our mother.”
Bryce was so shocked that Aaron wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d slid to the rug in a total and very unmanly swoon.
“I have a thousand questions,” Aaron said. “Where should I begin?”
“I never told you much about my past.”
“No, you were always very cryptic with the information you were willing to share.”
“I know some of it, but I could never bear to discuss it—and it was extremely traumatic. Someone warned me not to tell. Someone scared me so I wouldn’t.”
“You don’t recall who it was?”
“No, and I suspect my mother was convicted of a crime.”
“A crime!”
“Yes, and she might have been transported to the colonies. I was so young; I didn’t understand what was happening.”
“Why do you think she was transported?”
“We were at the docks with her.”
“You and Evangeline?”
“Yes, and we have two brothers as well.”
“My goodness.”
“My mother’s last words to me were to watch out for them but, of course, I was a child myself and I couldn’t. She was taken onto a ship. She was crying; we were screaming. It was very hectic, very disturbing.”
“I can’t believe this,” Aaron told him.
“After my mother was on board, we were separated.”
“By who?”
“A man named Mr. Etherton. He might have been my father’s clerk. Or maybe his lawyer or friend. I was never certain. There were some other people there too, but I don’t remember who they were.”
“Etherton…” Aaron mused. “He gave Evangeline his name. Why couldn’t she have kept her own? You did.”
“I have no idea. As I mentioned, it was so hectic, and I was so young. I hardly had a chance to say goodbye to them. Anne—Evangeline—was holding my hand, and she was jerked away from me.”
Aaron gasped. “She dreams about that all the time. It haunts her.”
“Really? Gad, it was so horrid. I ponder it constantly. Whenever I pass a blond woman on the street, I wonder if it might be her.” He chuckled miserably and shook his head. “This explains why I liked her so much. Right from the start, I liked her. I even asked her once if we might have met before, but she was sure we hadn’t.”
“I’m stunned,” Aaron said.
“So am I.” Bryce leapt to his feet, and he glanced around the room as if he didn’t know where he was. “I have to go to London.”
“Now? It’s so late. Let’s go at dawn. We’d travel faster in the daylight.”
“Aaron, I’ve been searching for her for over twenty years. I have to learn if she’s with Florella. And Aaron?”
“Yes?”
“It appears you’ve ruined my sister.”
Aaron’s cheeks flushed with chagrin. “Oh, yes, it appears I have.”
“Amends will have to be made.”
“Such as?”
“I’ll devise an appropriate compensation. Marriage, for instance?”
“I’m engaged to someone else, Bryce. That’s been my problem from the beginning.”
“Engagements can be broken.”
“Sometimes they can. Sometimes they can’t. We’ll see which of those times this turns out to be.”
“We definitely will.”
Bryce hurried out as Aaron stood.
“If you’re going to London,” Aaron said, “I’m going too.”
But Bryce was already dashing up the stairs to pack his bag.
* * * *
“I suppose you could head to Summerfield.”
“It’s probably for the best.”
Evangeline gazed at Florella. Except for a bruise on her cheek where Vicar Bosworth had slapped her, she was in fair condition. Florella had graciously offered to let her stay for a bit, but Evangeline grasped that the invitation wasn’t permanent, that she had to make plans for herself.
They were having tea at a shop in London and discussing Evangeline’s future.
She was still trying to catch her breath. Everything moved so fast in the city. There were crowds and horses and carriages and noise. She couldn’t steel her nerves so she didn’t jump at every sound.
Too much had happened too rapidly. She was exhausted and overwhelmed, and though she was appalled to admit it, she was incredibly heartbroken. She’d never been in love, so she hadn’t known it could end in such a grueling way. It had concluded so abruptly too. She couldn’t figure out how to forge on in a stable and sane manner, but she had to.
/> “Didn’t you tell me,” Florella was saying, “that this friend at Summerfield, this Rose Ralston, never answered any of your letters?”
“I don’t understand it. She’s not the sort who would fail to respond.”
“Precisely, so I’m worried she’s suffered a mishap. You might journey north only to find she isn’t there. Then what would you do?”
“I imagine I’d come back to London and search for Amelia.”
“Your other friend?”
“Yes.”
“The other one who never replied, so we can’t guess what’s become of her either, and I’m intimately acquainted with Lucas Drake. There’s an excellent chance she’s not married to him, so she could be anywhere and in any situation.”
“Lord Run said they had married.”
“Aaron said a lot of things, didn’t he?”
Evangeline snorted with disgust. “He certainly did.”
“Here’s what I was thinking.” Looking shrewd and sly, Florella peered at Evangeline over the rim of her cup. “Why leave London? I mean, Miss Cummings gave you funds so you’re set for a few months. Remain here.”
“And do what?”
“Sing. Act. Use your talents instead of hiding them.”
Evangeline’s pulse raced. “Sing?”
“Why not? You’re so good. I’m positive you could support yourself.”
“But…sing! My! I hadn’t considered it.”
“What is your other option? Will you beg Miss Ralston to let you live with her and her husband? Until when? Until he mentions that you’ve overstayed your welcome? You’d be like the proverbial poor relative, except you’re not even kin to them. It seems awfully precarious.”
“It would be embarrassing to impose—especially with their being newlyweds.”
“Quite right, Evangeline. Or perhaps you could return to teaching and have some old fusspot bossing you constantly. Could you bear it? Haven’t you groveled and obeyed long enough?”
“I can’t decide, Florella.”
“Or you could track down Miss Hubbard and move in with her and Lucas Drake. You could sit on pins and needles, waiting for the day Aaron arrives for a visit to show off his bride. You could hear all about their wedding.”
“Oh, my Lord, that would be the worst.”
“It definitely would be.”
“The world is spinning so fast,” Evangeline complained.
