She doubted very much that the woman could ride. An actress could not afford to keep a horse, nor would she have any space to ride it. Frederic carried on about how beautiful Adele was, how angelic. Perhaps The Duke found her beautiful as well. That thought rankled. Evelyn comforted herself with the knowledge that an actress could never be anything more than a dalliance for a member of the Peerage, particularly for a Duke.
“Ease up, girl” Evelyn said, tightening her hands lightly on Diadem’s reins slowing her.
They had reached a brook almost gone dry in the summer drought. A thin trickle of water wove between pebbles and sticks on the muddy bed. The gap was nearly a meter across, but the banks were steep and treacherous with loose sand. Evelyn gathered up the reins and circled the mare around, bringing her some ten paces back from the brook. Then, she tapped her single spur against the horse’s side and the mare burst into a canter. Three paces from the brook, two… Evelyn gathered the horse’s mane in her gloved hands and cued Diadem for the jump with the crop; squeezing the pommel between her legs. The mare surged easily over the brook, landing on the other side with a spirited toss of her head.
“They will not be able to touch us, Diadem, we will fly!” Evelyn reached forward and patted the horse’s neck. She was in high spirits on the journey home; Patrick would just have to catch her up.
When Diadem broke free from the cover of golden trees Evelyn saw the sky had gone purple and grey above them. Without the sun for guidance, Evelyn could not be sure how much time had passed since she had taken Diadem in the woods. Stanton, the stable master hurried out from the stable to meet her.
“Just in time, My Lady,” Stanton said, holding the mare’s reins for Evelyn to dismount. “We are in for a storm. Did you lose, Patrick again?”
“He’s just behind me,” she said as she took Stanton’s offered hand, unhooked her front leg and slid from the saddle. She smoothed her riding habit. Diadem turned her head to nuzzle Evelyn’s sides, looking for the bites of apple she often received as a reward for a good ride.
“In a moment,” Evelyn scolded the pushy mare.
She pulled her hat from her head and tucked it beneath her arm, mindful of its feathers. Her hair was slick with sweat and she was grateful that The Duke was not at the manor to see her in such a state. Thunder threatened, rumbling overhead in a distant murmur.
“I have had all the horses brought in from the pastures.” Stanton informed her. Having already pulled the saddle and blanket from Diadem’s back, he turned loosening the bridle and replaced it with a halter.
“You should hurry back to the manor before it begins, My Lady.”
“I do suppose,” Evelyn agreed, but made no move to leave. She stood scratching the mare between the ears. Diadem dropped her head to accommodate the woman’s reach. “She was wonderful out there. Fearless girl,” Evelyn said.
“I’m not surprised, she is one of Valliant’s get after all,” said Stanton. “But how will she fare in the madness of a hunt?”
“I hope to test that in the next week or two, if Frederic will agree to it.” Evelyn sighed. “And The Duke, of course.”
Stanton began to brush the sweat from the mare’s back. “He has not yet changed a thing about the way the place is run, My Lady.”
Though the stable master’s words were true, the situation bothered her. Her thoughts of late were torn between The Duke himself and how to buy back the stable from him. The amount of money required was frightening. He might not sell it back to the Evermont estate even if she and her brother could afford it. No, he might keep it just to irritate her. Another rumble of thunder rolled over head, louder now.
“I know you are right, but I do not have to like it,” Evelyn said. She slipped a chunk of apple from the pocket of her habit and fed the mare her hard-earned treat. “I should go.”
The next peal of thunder was an ear-splitting crack. Evelyn fit her hat back on top of her head, scooped her skirt up by its loop to raise the hem, and ran for home just as Patrick trotted up on his mount. If she had left the stables only a moment earlier, she would have made it. As it was, the clouds released their bounty, with enough vigor that she was drenched by the time she reached the entrance way. The water was warm, at least.
“Good Lord,” said Frederic. “You look liked a drowned rat.”
Her brother was as helpful as ever.
“Thank you, Frederic. Perhaps you ought to step outside and have a bath yourself; I believe I can smell you from here. Whiskey? You have at last ridded us of our brandy, then. Job well done. Quite an accomplishment.”
She did not want to deal with him now. Drenched and dirty from her ride, she wanted nothing more than a lengthy bath and a comfortable chair from which to watch the storm. It battered at the windows with a ferocity that almost drowned out her brother’s words.
“Be prepared for dinner in two hours,” he said. “I have matters to discuss with you.”
He left, abruptly heading toward the parlor. Evelyn’s curiosity was peaked. Her brother never wanted to dine with her, and he certainly never had anything to speak with her about. Since her father died, they were like strangers living in the same house. What could have happened?
She hurried up the stairs to find a filled bath already waiting for her; steam slowly curling upwards from the tub.
“Bess, you are a saint.” She told her ladies maid in thanks.
With Bess’ help, Evelyn pulled the soaked clothes from her body, though they put up a good fight, and sank nose deep into the hot water. The fireplace cast flickering light onto the white and gilt walls. She could see it dance through her closed eyelids.
“I knew you would be out there with those horses until the rain forced you in,” said Bess, coming from one of the side rooms with a tray of soap. “And your brother asked the kitchen to cook a proper dinner, so I suspected you would need to dress.”
“What is that about, I wonder,” Evelyn mused as she selected a soap with a cheery orange scent. Bits of peel puckered the surface. “Frederic loathes dining with me. He claims I take it as an opportunity to nag.”
“Pray he never marries, then, if he cannot bear a bit of nagging.” Bess said with a chuckle.
“I do not nag!”
“Of course not, dear.” Bess laid out a clean flannel for Evelyn to dry off with.
She bit her lip, a sign she had something to say she did not think Evelyn would like to hear.
“Oh Bess what is it?” Evelyn said, frowning.
“Your mourning period will be over soon,” said Bess, studying the carpet. “Shall I have your other dresses brought out and freshened up?”
Had it been so long? Evelyn could hardly believe a year had passed since her fiancé had been killed and her father had slipped away in his sleep, with as little warning as a lightning strike. The somber colors were a daily reminder.
“I suppose we should, since Frederic expects me to begin entertaining suitors.” Suitors like Lord Ashwood. The man was old enough to be her father but he was rich and that seemed all Frederic cared about. Evelyn’s venom rose anew “Frederic left me hardly any time to dress for dinner. I am afraid half this bath will be wasted, Bess.”
Evelyn rose with reluctance from the warm tub. She stood in front of the fire to dress, for the evening’s storms had cooled the air to an uncomfortable chill and gooseflesh prickled her limbs. Far too soon she was fit to descend.
~.~
Chapter Two
The table had been set for an elaborate meal, with candles and fine china that had not been used since her father had entertained. A fire had been coaxed to great heights within the fireplace and the curtains were closed, hiding the sight of the storm if not the noise. Rain battered at the windows in a wash of sound.
Frederic had, to Evelyn’s amazement, bathed and dressed and even combed his hair back into a neat style. She had almost forgotten her brother was a handsome man; how like their father he looked. It filled her with an unusual affection for him.
&nb
sp; “Evening, Evelyn,” he said as he took his seat and waved away the offer of a drink stronger than watered wine.
Evelyn looked at him, suspicious. Bathed and not drinking? He must want something from her. There was no other reason she could imagine for his behavior. Choosing soberness and her company over an evening of anything else was so far from his usual behavior that he must want something very dear indeed. She would play the part until she found out the reason behind his antics, at least.
“Good evening, Frederic.”
“How was your ride?”
“It was splendid. Diadem is coming along, and if she remains sound I hope to see her at the head of many hunts this autumn.
Frederic nodded along to her words. It resembled polite interest, even if it was feigned.
“Hunts here?” he asked. “At Evermont?”
“If The Duke agrees to it,” said Evelyn, terse. “It is his stable, after all.”
Frederic took a large swallow of wine. She watched the bob of his throat and noticed the beads of sweat on his forehead, as if he were under great strain. How much watered wine would it take for him to reach his usual state?
“Yes, about Pemberton…” He dabbed at his brow with his napkin. Evelyn’s eyebrows rose. Did her brother know about The Duke’s embrace? She fidgeted, trying to come up with some excuse for her behavior.
“We have been exchanging letters since his departure.” Frederic trailed off, looking into his glass of wine. He set it aside with force, then picked up his fork and pushed the food around on his plate.
“Yes?” Evelyn prompted. The longer he delayed the more anxious she grew.
“Right,” he began again, with a deep breath. “I would like to host a gathering or two here at Evermont, to break up the monotony you know. I do miss London. Something small.”
“Like a hunt?”
“A dinner was more what I was thinking,” Frederic said.
Of course, Frederic did not ride.
“You did say a gathering or two. We could do both!” Evelyn could not hide her excitement. She was so relieved that her brother had not mentioned her transgression with The Duke. He had probably not mentioned it to Frederic at all. “Please, Frederic. You do not need to ride in it.”
Lightning illuminated the curtains and the trailing thunder shook Evelyn’s bones.
“It must be just overhead,” Frederic said, looking up at the painted ceiling. He got up from the table to peer out the window.
“I hope the horses are not frightened,” Evelyn said, from her seat.
When he pulled back the curtain the rain grew louder, as if the fabric had been all that buffered them from the storm. Water ran in streams across the grass, forming puddles in the depressions and creating ruts in the paths, shaping the landscape to suit itself. There was something of the storm’s ferocity behind Frederic’s eyes when he turned from the window. It was so unlike the dispirited Frederic she had grown used to. In the next flicker of lightning, it was gone. He looked fatigued as he slumped back into his chair.
“When I next write to Pemberton I will ask what he thinks of the idea. He would enjoy it, the fool.” Frederic spun the stem of his wineglass around in his fingers. “Lord Ashwood will be invited of course.”
“Does The Duke know?” Evelyn asked at once, before she could stop herself.
Frederic frowned, looking up from the glass. “Why would Pemberton care if I invite the old man? As long as there are fresh-faced debutantes attending, he will be satisfied with the guest list.”
Evelyn’s ears burned. She sawed into the roasted mutton and shoved too large a bite into her mouth. Chewing gave her something to do other than incriminating herself.
“What is going on with you?” Frederic asked. He was far too astute when sober. “You look crazed. Please do not behave this way at the dinner. Have you forgotten how to eat?”
“I am feeling ill,” she lied. “Excuse me. I will lie down for a moment and I am certain it will pass.”
“Just a moment,” he said, holding up a hand to stop her.
She sat back down and clenched her hands in her lap.
“I have invited Adele, from London. She will stay here as a guest for a time.” His mouth tightened to a severe line.
“You did not!”
Frederic’s wordless glare was enough to assure her that he had, and that he would hear no argument against it.
“Frederic, can you imagine what people will say! She is a—“Evelyn glanced at her brother’s face and changed her wording. “An actress. It just is not done.”
“Nonsense,” said Frederic. “She is often invited to London gatherings.”
“The eccentrics of London may get away with that sort of behavior, Frederic, but they are not us.” Evelyn could not believe her brother would go so far with this foolishness. She knew he was infatuated, but to bring her home to Evermont was to declare an entirely new level of intention. “There can be nothing between you two, nothing of substance, for she is not a woman of substance!”
Her brother clenched his hands around his wineglass until his knuckles were white. She wished that The Duke were here.
“I am not asking permission, Evelyn,” Frederic said, between gritted teeth. “I am The Lord here.”
“I am not questioning your right to make a thoughtless decision, Frederic; I am questioning the sense of it!” Evelyn folded her napkin into a neat square and slapped it down on the table.
“An actress as a guest here while Lord Ashwood visits? It will be a disaster!”
Though Frederic’s face had gone the shade of purple that warned of an imminent outburst, the expected rage did not come. Instead, he took a deep breath and stared into the fire, its sizzling pops were interspersed between the growls of thunder. He did not speak again until the footmen had finishing serving the next course. Evelyn straightened the edge of the tablecloth.
“Adele will be our guest, and you will treat her kindly. I will not have her humiliated.” He took a breath and his face softened. He looked so like father when his eyes were kind. “Will you do that for me, Evelyn?” he asked softly.
If her brother did not look so desperate, she might have said no. Even as she nodded, her stomach was sinking. Something, she knew, was going to go terribly wrong.
“I will treat her as graciously as any guest at Evermont,” Evelyn said. “Do not worry, brother.” She did not ask what he thought the other ladies attending would say of her. That was not her concern.
“Thank you,” he said evenly. “Then I shall send a letter to Pemberton in the morning to ask about the hunt. I expect you will want to handle planning the dinner.”
It was not a question.
“Yes, brother.” Evelyn’s reply was wooden.
It went unspoken that she would not be enjoying a hunt if she did not agree to treat her brother’s actress as if she were a lady.
She retired to her bedroom, exhausted.
~.~
“Was it a pleasant dinner, my Lady?” Bess asked. She tugged the laces of Evelyn’s corset free. “You look… well, drained.”
“He is going to bring his actress to Evermont,” Evelyn said, pulling her nightclothes down over her head. “Do you think he expects me to provide her with a wardrobe as well? I am sure her dresses will not be at all appropriate for polite company.”
“If he has spent as much money on her as you have said he has, I am sure she will have dresses of her own to wear.”
Bess made a good point. Evelyn sat down on the edge of the bed and drew her knees up beneath her chin.
“And Lord Ashwood will be here,” Evelyn said.
That statement made the old maid’s eyebrows shoot up.
“What about The Duke?”
Evelyn shook her head. “Frederic does not know about that, and really, what is there to tell? This dinner is going to be a disaster, Bess.”
“You will manage, dear,” Bess said, clucking her tongue. “You always do. Brilliant girl.”
Evelyn l
ooked miserably up at her maid from her seated position. Bess sighed.
“At least it shall not be boring, hmm?”
“At least.” Evelyn replied.
She flipped on to her stomach and pulled the pillow over her head, drowning out the rain and thoughts of impending doom. Her brother was an idiot, The Duke was far away, and Evelyn was coming unraveled.
~.~
Chapter Three
The Duke of Pemberton replied to Frederic’s letter in person. He rode in with a small retinue of servants on a Saturday morning while a fine drizzle of rain misted his clothes. Evelyn watched from the window. Her brother greeted him at the door and the two clasped hands with smiles on their faces. She watched their lips move and wished she could read the conversation between them. Did The Duke ask after her? It had been six days since her talk with Frederic at dinner and Evelyn’s nerves had been raw ever since.
Bess had pulled Evelyn’s dresses from storage. Together, they were going through the garments and discarding those that had fallen out of fashion during the past year. Evelyn would have loved to go into town and order a new collection for the upcoming events, but their current finances would not allow such things. She would make do with what she had. The debutantes Frederic had promised The Duke would be sure to have the latest dresses. Evelyn felt like a dowdy old women with last year’s fashions. Pemberton would not even notice her. She needed to put this thought out of her mind.
“Are you going to go down and greet him?” Bess asked, brushing at a worn patch of fabric on a cerulean dress. “You are practically climbing through the window to get a look at him.”
“Bess!” Evelyn said, aghast. “No. I will see them both at dinner.”
“Oh, your blush, my Lady” Bess said with a smile.
Evelyn’s face burned. Bess had been with the family so long, it made her entirely too free with her thoughts.
The men disappeared inside. Evelyn felt the front door close behind them, the thump rocking the old manor house. She stepped away from the window. Rain and grey sky had obscured her view, but she could have traced every line of The Duke with her eyes closed. The view inside was not half as nice to look at. Her bedroom was a mess of dresses and boxes and shoes.
The Duke’s Wicked Wager - Lady Evelyn Evering: A Regency Romance Novel (Heart of a Gentleman Book 2) Page 5
