“Oh-ho no,” she said with a light laugh. “You cannot tell a person to forget what they’ve heard. It only tweaks the curiosity more.” She narrowed her eyes at him, and he went an endearing shade of pink that clashed with his flaming hair. “Tell me.”
Eamon cleared his throat. “Well, you’re a little bit of a thing, now aren’t you?”
“Little?” she scoffed. She was a quite respectable five foot three inches. “Compared to some, I suppose.”
He laughed, a rasping sound, and then ducked his head. “You’ve the right of it. I’m a big brute, to be sure.”
“I did not mean it as an insult, Mr.—Eamon.”
Still smiling, he squinted up at her from under his lashes. “Then I shall not take it as such, Lady Luella.”
“Lu,” she corrected, ignoring the small pinch in her heart. “You may call me Lu, if you’d like.” Even as she spoke the words, her skin heated. Lu? Was she mad? It was Aidan’s name for her. Perhaps it was a bit of revenge for Aidan’s current frostiness toward her, for her embarrassment faded and defiance surged forth. Anyone might call her Lu. And why not?
As for Eamon, he went utterly still, his expression unreadable. And she wondered again if she had overstepped. Lu opened her mouth to recant her offer when he cleared his throat.
“All right then, Lu.” He swallowed audibly, and his gaze rested on her. It was strange, she thought in a daze, that looking into his steady, too-blue eyes felt familiar, safe, and at the same time, extremely dangerous. A bit like standing on a cliff that overlooked the sea. One could study that view forever, know it would always be there, and at the same moment, one could leap into danger.
Thankfully, Eamon tilted his head back to look up at the green leaves swaying above their heads. “I wanted to say how sorry I was to hear of your loss.”
Those softly uttered words fell heavy upon her breast. “Thank you. My father’s death was…” Hell. Lu struggled to find a word that didn’t have her sounding heartless, yet didn’t make her any more of a liar than she already was. “Distressful,” she settled on. “He had lived a full life, thus it was not unexpected in the way of the others.” Everyone she’d ever loved or cared for, gone within days. “Such as when I lost my sister.” For a moment, Lu could not speak. A chasm of pain opened up within her. Why had she told him?
“I did not know you had a sister.” Eamon rubbed his jaw, looking pained, as if he ought to know. Which was ridiculous, she hadn’t even told Aidan. Some things she couldn’t speak of.
“Half sister, actually. She was my half sister.” Lu took a deep breath. “My father would not recognize her as such. She was born on the wrong side of the sheets, as it were.” A pained laugh filled her throat. “Didn’t stop him from bringing her into the house as my servant.”
“You were very close to her, weren’t you?” he asked gently.
Eamon’s strong arm pressed against hers, and she let herself lean just a little bit against it. Lu bit her lip. “We were the closest of friends. She died years ago. Scarlet fever.”
Thankfully, he was silent as she surreptitiously wiped at her tears with gloved fingers.
“We shall care for you, Lu,” he said quietly. “I promise you that.”
Lu turned toward him and suddenly there was no air for her to breathe. He was inches away, his gaze roaming over her face, his lips parting softly as though in invitation. And she felt her lids lower, a languid sort of heat stealing over her even as her heartbeat quickened. The most intriguing thin scar marred his upper lip, creating a little raised path along the left corner. Would the imperfection be hard or soft? If one ran one’s tongue along his lip, would one feel the scar?
A shadow fell over the path before them, and Lu looked up to see Aidan standing there. Instantly, she stood, as if she’d been caught with her hand in the biscuit bin.
“Aidan.”
His nod was brief, polite, gutting. “Lady Luella.” He turned his attention to his brother, and his expression hardened. “If I might have a word, Eamon.” It wasn’t a request.
Too dismayed with his abrupt dismissal of her, Lu stood wordless and aching as Eamon brushed by her with a soft murmur of “Good day.” Aidan glanced back. Wariness lined the corners of his eyes. Something he couldn’t hide, though she could tell he tried. “Lady Luella,” he said again.
And then he left her. Again.
* * *
Eamon followed Aidan to the smithy. If there was one place they’d have privacy, it was here. No one but Aidan dared go to Eamon’s smithy. Far removed from the rest of the outbuildings, it was also isolated enough that any shouting would go unheard. And Eamon knew there’d be shouting. He and his brother needn’t words to communicate; Eamon knew Aidan had found out about the letters.
They’d both known about the first few letters in which Eamon tried to set Lu in her place. But they had been boys then, arrogant and mischievous. Eamon hadn’t thought he’d fall in love with the girl on the other side of the correspondence. And he hadn’t told Aidan that he’d been continuing to write to her. Lu’s letters were the light in his life that he couldn’t bring himself to extinguish.
Eamon stopped in the middle of the space and turned. Only to run into Aidan’s fist.
“Bloody idiot,” Aidan yelled as he swung again, connecting with Eamon’s cheekbone. Eamon saw stars. “Bloody, fool, idiot!”
Eamon stumbled back. Though he was six inches taller and a good three stone heavier, he’d let Aidan pound on him. Years of pretending to be his brother was a despicable act. Cowardly.
“Why did you do it?” Aidan shouted. He punched again, and Eamon went to his knees, blood filling his mouth. “Why?”
“Because I l-lov—” Eamon pressed his busted lips together and glared up at Aidan. “Because you begged me to. ‘I have to answer her. Make her marry me.’ Or do I have that wrong?” If only Eamon had refused.
Aidan scoffed. “You know precisely what I mean.”
Eamon looked away.
“Answer me,” Aidan cried, holding up his fist as if he’d take another swing. He stood over Eamon, panting lightly, his blue eyes blazing, but his arm slowly lowered. “That girl came here to marry me. And it’s as plain as day that she’s in love with you! Or me, or rather you. Bother!” Aidan flung a hand up in disgust.
Aye, well, Lu might have fallen for him, but she’d had Aidan’s image to fawn over all this time. It was Aidan whose every move she tracked with a hungry gaze, and it was Aidan she was promised to. That hadn’t changed.
Eamon leaned forward, his hands hitting the gritty stone floor, and spat out a mouthful of blood. “She’s in love with something that never was.” Eamon spat again and then climbed to his feet. He peered down at his brother through a rapidly swelling eye. “It will be all right, Aidan.” A hopeless laugh left him. “In truth, I’ve eased the way for you.”
“How, may I ask, is this predicament helpful,” Aidan ground out, “when you knew I’d have to marry the girl?”
Aidan had never wanted love from Lu. Just a simple agreement. A business transaction. The fool.
“She’ll be a good wife for you.”
Aidan looked away, his expression pinched. “I never wanted a wife.”
“I know.” Bastard.
As if he heard Eamon’s thought, Aidan glared back. “I never wanted one, but I’ve always known my duty.”
What could Eamon say to that? He stood silent as Aidan’s cool gaze bore into his flesh.
“You love her,” Aidan said softly. “That was what you were going to say.”
Eamon nodded shortly, his eyes averted. It hurt his heart too much to say the words out loud.
Aidan sighed, the sound loud in the stone room. “And you’d just give her up to me?”
They were silent for a moment, Eamon’s lips twitching as he fought to keep them shut. But he had to say it. “She was never mine to give up.”
* * *
It took Lu a good twenty minutes to hunt Aidan down but she finally acco
mplished the task. He was in the stables of all places.
“I thought you disliked horses,” she said as she walked toward the open stall where he was brushing down a fine bay gelding. At the sound of her voice, his head whipped to the side, and his wide gaze landed upon her. Perhaps he was merely shy in person. So she smiled. “Or did I finally turn you to my way of thinking?”
Aidan stepped back from the horse. “I suppose you must have.” He tossed the brush down and took a step in her direction. Since it had started to rain again, lanterns were lit along the length of the barn, and the light shone bright in his golden hair. He ran a hand through the springy mass of curls. With his full lips and slightly snub nose, he put her to mind of a sweet putto. Which was unfortunate. She did not want to associate Aidan with plump, winged immortal babies.
His pale blue eyes studied her for a moment, and he shifted his weight to one leg. “I meant to discuss our upcoming nuptials.”
Good Lord, the way he spoke to her, as if they were new acquaintances.
“Are you decided upon me, then?” he asked carefully.
Lu blinked. “Well, of course I am. What a question. I decided years ago. You know I’ve been waiting for this.” She took a step closer and was distressed to see him stiffen. “Aidan… Have you decided upon me?”
His nose wrinkled. “As you say, this has been decided upon years ago.”
“Then why ask me?”
He looked down at his boots. “A man likes to be sure.”
“As does a woman. Do I not please you?” Please tell me that I please you.
“Of course. You are lovely, Lady Luella.”
“Why won’t you call me Lu?” Her throat ached now. “Why are you so”—she waved a hand in the air—“formal with me. After all these years.”
He paled and ran his hand through his hair again, making the golden locks bounce. “I apologize, Lu. I am… nervous.”
She smiled a little. “I understand. I’ve been beset by nerves for a week now.”
Looking off, he nodded then turned back to her. A frown remained on his angelic face. “Lu… can I ask you, how do you see our marriage progressing? That is”—his round cheeks pinked—“how do you see us living day to day? What do you want from life?”
Not so odd a question, she supposed. Yet the knot of feeling within her seemed to grow. “Oh, I don’t know. I suppose I want what we had in the letters. I want that discourse. I want to read the books you’ve read, to tell you about the ones I’ve read.” She took a step closer, coming up before him as he frowned down at her. They were to be married. She had to break this horrible awkwardness between them. Oh, it was madness to touch him first, but she’d been aching to feel him.
Tentatively, she rested a hand on his chest and felt the rapid beating of his heart. He was nervous. Shy. It was endearing. “I want to finally figure out what that blasted word you sent me means.” Her voice dropped as she leaned into him. “I haven’t, you know.”
“Haven’t what?” His voice sounded strained now. Strained good? Or bad? She couldn’t be sure.
So she let her hand trail up to his neck as his gaze darted over her face. Gently she threaded her fingers into his silky curls. “Haven’t discovered the meaning of the word. Can you not give me a little hint, E?”
“ ‘E’?”
Lu didn’t have time to answer for she was already standing on tiptoe and pressing her lips against his. So very forward. Not at all like a lady. But she needed to know if the fluttery excitement his letters wrought would return. It did not. Aidan stood stock-still, his soft mouth just touching hers. And she felt nothing. Rather, nothing but a hot, sick embarrassment that made her skin crawl.
Lu wrenched back, her cheeks blazing. “I’m sorry.”
“No!” Aidan made to touch her arm then dropped his hand. “Do not ever be sorry.” His innocent features turned into a fierce scowl. “You have no reason to apologize. I simply…” He flinched. “Blast. I am out of sorts, Lady—Lu.” He’d backed away as he spoke and was now clear of the barn. “I apologize. But all will be well.” Aidan held up a hand in entreaty. “I promise.”
Her fingers drifted to touch her lower lip as she watched him go. She’d felt nothing. Nothing but disappointment, and dread.
Chapter Five
One Week Later
Eamon stared down at the note in his hand. The letters were poorly formed, the s’s were backward, the w inverted, but the message was clear: She is yours now.
A sharp breath left him as he tried to focus. He took another, deeper breath. “His rooms are cleared out?”
“They are.” George’s expression was implacable. “Harrison tells me the master left on his horse before dawn.”
The note crumbled in Eamon’s hand. Aidan had left him. And Luella.
Anger surged up like molten metal, burning his throat. Lu would be crushed.
Nan chose that moment to bustle in. “Young Gerald is back from the docks.” She gave Eamon a quick look. “I sent him to look for Master Aidan. Our boy was seen boarding a ship bound for New York.”
“You had to tell him about the letters,” Eamon spat out. The bloody woman had her nose in everything. He’d never been able to hide anything from her.
Nan’s thin brows knitted together. “I did. For I can no more see you bleeding than I could my own child, Eamon Hollis Evernight. And neither can Aidan.”
“And Lu?” Eamon snapped. “What of her? She’s dressed in her wedding gown and ready for the chapel. Has anyone given any consideration to her feelings on the matter?”
“Well now,” said Nan, crossing her arms, “that is a fine question, boyo. One you should have been asking yourself years ago!”
Eamon deflated like a bellows and rested his arm upon the mantle to gaze down at the fire. A lump rose within his throat and choked him. “You speak the truth of it.” His fists curled. “I’ve no right to be angry. Hell, I’m the villain in this play.”
“Do not dare disrespect yourself in that manner, do you hear?” With a sigh, Nan stepped closer. “Look at this as a blessing, my boy. An’ a chance to start anew.”
Life did not offer a fresh start. Never to him. He was painfully shy. Men did not know what to say to him and women stayed clear. Start anew? By telling Lu that he was a liar? That not only had his brother played her false but he had as well?
Eamon took a deep breath and fought against a wave of nausea. It didn’t work. “Lu needs a home. Protection. She doesn’t deserve this, or me. But I’m going to offer for her.”
Would she accept his hand? No. First, he’d have to tell her that Aidan was gone. And then she’d leave him too.
* * *
Abandoned. Not precisely at the altar, but close. Regardless of location, it stung. Lu stared at her white silk slippers, a bit of extravagance worn as a nod to the specialness of the occasion. Her near-wedding. Her vision turned blurry, her eyes burning hot.
A few feet beyond her, Eamon stood, not shifting, not moving a muscle, but solemn and quiet. She didn’t have to look to know it. He’d delivered his foul news and then stood guard at the edge of the room, feet planted wide and arms at his sides like a soldier at the ready. That burned as well, the knowledge that he had to bear witness to her shame. Oddly, it was also a comfort to have him close.
The wind sang a mournful song outside her windows. She wanted to join in, cry and wail. Aidan had left her. In truth, he seemed more a ghost than anything. The man she’d met hadn’t been Aidan. Not her E, the irreverent soul who’d made her feel more just by reading ink upon paper than any person alive.
Resting her head against the back of the chair, she stared off into the flames. Perhaps Aidan could only be that man when he wrote. Perhaps that had been what Aidan was trying to warn her about. Heavens knew she was a private person. She hadn’t been able to confess the deepest, darkest truth about herself. Her hands fisted upon her lap. Now she was glad of it; Aidan hadn’t been worth that risk, as it turned out.
Her breath hit
ched sharply. Oh God, had Aidan seen the defect in her? Had he realized that she was not that girl he’d imagined when corresponding with her? “What shall I do now?” she whispered.
The logs snapped and crackled as the fire ate at them. And then Eamon’s deep, rolling voice broke the silence. “You stay here.” He said it as though stating the obvious.
A snort, unladylike and far too similar to a sob, escaped her lips. “Here?” She shook her head. “I will not take charity.”
His bronze brows furrowed tight. “Charity? The Evernights vowed to care for you. Would you have us break that vow?”
“I’d say Aidan broke it when he left me today,” she snapped before flinching. Bad form, dear, displaying a temper now. Keep that stiff upper lip. “I merely meant that you have no culpability in this, Mr. Evernight.”
“I was Eamon before,” he muttered, his voice stronger now, as if he’d moved closer. She daren’t look. Not when she feared she might cry should she meet his gaze. “And I am also the head of this family now. Which means you are mistaken, Miss Luella. I am very much culpable. More than you know.”
Lu glanced his way, focusing on his shirt, now stretched tight over the wide expanse of his shoulders as he crossed his beefy arms in front of his chest.
She kept her voice soft and modulated as she’d been taught. “Setting aside any feelings of responsibility, misguided or not”—he snorted—“the fact remains that I cannot stay here without feeling that I am accepting charity.”
His chest did not move. And she turned back to the fire. The heat of it warmed her cool skin. What would she do? A rustling sounded to her right, and then he was crouching before her, caging her in with his big body and gentle warmth. Holding on to the chair arms, Eamon waited for her to look him in the eyes. When she did, a strange burst of feeling coursed through her limbs. That deep, pure, blue gaze of his tripped her heart and tugged at her center. She wanted to lean forward and bury her face in the crook of his neck, where she instinctively knew it would be warm and smooth. She wanted to beg him to hold her. Just for a moment or two, until this feeling of slow drifting away abated. Instead, she let her head dip down and stared at her clenched hands.
Entwined (Darkest London) Page 4
