“That would be nice.” Evelyn rose, unembarrassed, from Francis’ lap to welcome the servants and the tray. It was their last night together here and Evelyn wanted nothing to spoil it.
Agnes pushed in the cart, smiling at the countess and not looking at all at her lord. She had already grown very fond of the lord’s new lady. She was gracious and kind to both her and Martin. A true lady. Lord MacKintosh could have done no better. “I brought ye some more of those nice lemon tarts, m’lady.”
“Ohhh! Lemon tarts!” Fiona squealed as she and Connor came in, still carrying their golf bags. The pair had chosen to play another round after their foursome that morning. The younger siblings laid into the tea cart eating heartily of the fare.
“Thank you, Agnes! Lemon tarts are my favorite as well!” Evelyn responded in delight, for the tarts were truly her favorites. “I am going to miss these after we leave.”
“Do you need to go already?” Connor asked. “Blossom and I thought we might stay on a couple more days and play while the weather is nice.”
“Do stay!” Fiona agreed.
“I’m sorry,” Eve mourned. “We must get back to town.”
“We’ll miss you, Lady Shaftesbury,” the girl pouted playfully.
“And we'll miss the sound of the lord's laughter,” added Agnes.
“Well, you’ll get to see a lot more of her in the future,” Francis informed them with a wide smile. “You are the first to know that Lady Shaftesbury has just consented to be my wife!”
The four of them expressed their congratulations heartily. Fiona enthusiastically hugged them both while Connor shook his brother’s hand and offered a kiss to Eve’s cheek. Agnes soon wiped a tear of happiness from her cheek. “My lady! I am so happy for you both! After seeing the two of ye together I just knew the lad could find no one to love so much as ye!”
“Couldn’t have said it better myself,” Francis added jovially as Eve handed him a cup of tea. “We should make it champagne, perhaps?”
Eve smiled but shook her head. “This is fine. A night just as I hope to spend many others in the future.”
Fiona and Connor joined them for a quick toast before leaving to wash up after their long day on the links. “Well, said, my love,” Francis told her. “I feel the same way. But please, hurry and eat your tarts, my love, so that I can take you to bed and make a perfect night complete.”
Evelyn popped the entire tart into her mouth and stood brushing off her skirts. “All right, I'm done!” she mumbled, licking the crumbs from her lips.
Laughing, Francis scooped her into his arms and turned to the door.
“Wait!” Evelyn cried with a full mouth. “Go back!”
Amused, Francis turned back to the fireplace and laughed even harder as she leaned over to lift the plate of tarts from the tray. “All right, I'm ready!” Still laughing, the earl started out of the room stumbling. “Stop laughing or you're going to drop me!” she cried out.
“Fear not, my lady!” he posed gallantly. “I won't let you fall! I swear I shall not drop you… unless it's on my bed!”
Evelyn shoved a tart into his mouth. “You’d better not, my lord! You had better not!” She popped another of the delicious treats into her mouth before hanging on to him more tightly.
Chapter 35
Back at the Townhouse of Lord & Lady Richard MacKintosh
Moray Place
Edinburgh, Scotland
“You have gone from looking blissfully content to perfectly miserable in the space of just one day, Evie,” Moira commented the evening following their return, as Eve descended the stairs of Richard’s townhouse with her friend to join their party at the Duchess of Roxburghe’s Black and White Ball.
Eve had been in high spirits upon their return from St. Andrews. She and Francis had announced their engagement to the family and friends at dinner the previous evening and their celebration had lasted well into the night. Finally, they were going to be happy. She had been so certain.
This day, however, had brought a rain cloud to hover over her joy. Though Abby had assured her that no new gossip or speculation about her relationship with Francis had taken root, the town was now abuzz with tales of Francis’ treatment of his former wife. Just that afternoon, Eve, Abby and Moira had encountered her nemesis at the Countess of Rothes’ tea. It seemed Vanessa was getting very good at making herself appear the wronged spouse gaining the sympathy of Society’s younger matrons who were not familiar with Glenrothes or the scandals that preceded their divorce years before. The woman had been pouring out her fictional woes to all who would listen, acting the ill-treated wife who had been divorced on a whim and going on about how Glenrothes had been so awful to send her away and had been threatening her of late.
By necessity, Eve had to let Abby stand alone in her defense of Francis so as not to link herself any closer to him until their engagement was announced. It hadn’t been easy. She had nearly blurted out that she and Francis were planning on marrying, but the thought of further confrontation was hard to bear.
Vanessa appeared no closer to leaving Edinburgh than she had three days before. Her snide remarks and innuendo had set Eve on edge for the remainder of the day. Andshe heard as the day went on that Vanessa expanded upon her misery by adding that Francis had been philandering on top of everything else. Eve wished she had heard that before the tea so she might have defended Francis regardless of the harm it might do her.
If only they dared announce their engagement beyond the family! But they had thought it best to withhold that information until Vanessa left the area, lest she turn her malicious accusations from Francis to Eve.
After such a miserable day, Eve wanted nothing more than to stay in tonight and avoid further contact with Francis’ ex-wife after a trying afternoon. There was nothing to be done for it, however. The duchess had insisted on their presence at her ball and that was that. There was no excuse the lady would accept. Eve pinched the bridge of her nose as a headache blossomed. “I’m not exceedingly happy, Moira. It’s been a most tiresome day already.”
“Well, one must endure, I guess. You mustn’t let that woman bother you so. But look at yourself! You will be the envy of every woman present. You must take me to meet the man who creates these gowns,” Moira continued, gushing with excitement. “I simply must have one or twenty.”
The gown was, of course, Worth. One of her favorites from the previous year that she had not yet had the chance to wear. The skirt was simply shaped, without draping or gathering at the waist, falling from a simple flowing bell into a long train. The white silk, however, was covered in an intricate pattern of scrolling black velvet cutouts that swooped in long lines from her waist and curled here and there across the entire skirt of the gown. The effect from the back was especially dramatic and elegant. The scrollwork continued in smaller detail up the tight bodice and the short sleeves were a confection of white Chantilly lace and black feathers. Beneath the hem, her black silk petticoats peeked out when she walked or when she would dance. She wore black feathers in her hair, white gloves and simple black opal drop earrings and necklace for adornment, leaving the gown to make the largest impression.
“That dress must have cost a fortune,” Moira added sportily bouncing merrily down the stairs. “I’m sure Papa and Pops would buy me a dozen if it meant finding a husband. You’re lucky you have the fortune to afford them, most widows don’t, but of course your father gets you everything you want.”
Eve grimaced but couldn’t disagree. “You might think that with all the money I have got that I might be happy for a while.”
“Money cannot buy happiness, don't you know?” Moira edified.
Hobbes laid a black velvet cloak over the gown, as Eve added wryly, “No, but at least I have nice clothes to wear while I'm depressed. You look lovely tonight as well.”
Moira smiled ruefully. “Do you think so? This was the first gown I was able to have done since I got here. Most of my wardrobe is terribly out of date.”
“No, no. It’s very nice.” Moira wore an emerald green silk gown that set off her red hair and gray eyes nicely. Moira was of a more voluptuous figure than Eve and the gown showed it off nicely with its low neckline and extreme hourglass cut. The draping of the overskirt emphasized the flare of her hips. The men wouldn’t be able to look away and Eve told her so.
“I hope you’re right!” Moira laughed, as Richard and Abby joined them. “Well, shall we go? It’s my first big ball and I don’t want to miss a thing.”
“I really wish we had not committed to doing this tonight,” Eve moaned, but her face fell in shame. “I’m sorry, dear, I know you’re excited. I will do my best not to ruin it for you!” She only hoped that Vanessa MacKintosh, who had boldly requested an invitation from the duchess herself just that afternoon, might realize the social faux pas she had made and choose not to go.
That simple wish was not to be.
"Lady Glenrothes, my how… nice you look tonight,” Eve drawled with sappy sweetness though she was inwardly aghast that Francis’ ex-wife would think herself welcome to join Abby, Moira and Eve where they stood chatting, while the men retrieved refreshments for them. The evening was already late. Eve and Moira’s dance cards had been filled early on while Abby still refrained from dancing. Eve had danced almost every dance, taking her partners in Francis, Richard and James as well as a few other older gentlemen who had asked her. She had even accepted a dance with Jack Merrill, though he teased her mercilessly through the whole thing, making her regret her decision.
As she had woven through the motions of the dances, Eve had seen Vanessa from a distance several times over the course of the evening but had avoided a confrontation before this point. “It’s quite bold of you to choose to wear red, especially at a black and white ball,” she added, unable to keep her voice completely pleasant.
“A lovely compliment, Lady Shaftesbury,” Vanessa simpered.
“Terribly sorry. That was certainly not my intention.”
Vanessa’s eyes narrowed as if trying to ascertain whether there had been intentional insult, looking from Abby to Moira, who both managed a straight face. It occurred to Eve that perhaps she wasn’t a decidedly intelligent woman. She was thinking so hard about Eve’s comment that she had to assume that it might be the case. If that were the case, what was her aim in attending the same functions as Eve and attempting to engage her in conversation? If it wasn’t to make herself look intentionally tragic, what was it? Becoming, God help her, friends? Getting Eve out of the way so she could have Francis back? She hadn’t wanted him for a dozen years, why would she want him now?
“Her ladyship said I could wear anything I wanted since I haven’t been back long enough to have a new wardrobe done,” Vanessa went on, when the trio remained silent.
“Her grace.”
“What?”
Moira spoke up as if to a small child. “You refer to a duchess as ‘your grace’ or ‘her grace’. You had best learn other rudiments of etiquette if you're going to keep up in Society."
“Her grace,” Vanessa repeated.
“Would you like me to write it down for you?” Abby asked sweetly.
“Probably can’t read anyway,” Moira whispered in an aside. “You did go to school, didn’t you? Or at least had a governess to teach you all this?”
Vanessa’s eyes narrowed and took on a vicious gleam but she could not rebut Moira’s jibe, since she had managed to torment all her would-be governesses into quitting.
Before a spat broke out, Eve interrupted tiredly, “What do you want, Vanessa?”
“My husband, of course.” She confirmed Eve’s earlier suspicion. “I saw you dancing with him. Word is that you are his mistress.”
Eve managed to disguise her dismay at having such an accusation tossed so casually in her face. “I am no man’s mistress.”
“You looked very cozy with each other earlier,” her rival taunted.
“That’s really none of your concern.” Eve waved her fan with studied ennui. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I believe he divorced you.”
“That could easily be changed.” The woman’s hand whisked away the detail as insignificant. But the sight of Glenrothes with the countess so cozily ensconced at each other’s side throughout the evening had planted a seed of doubt as to the success of the plan. So much so, Vanessa had decided to approach the countess directly, even when she knew she should not. Rumors put them on the verge of marriage. She wanted to gauge for herself how serious a relationship her husband was developing with this woman.
Eve’s eyes narrowed over the top of her fan. “Why would you want him now when you did not before?”
"You are not serious," Vanessa retorted. “You have seen, all of him, I’d wager,” she added to the shock of the ladies. “He’s become a rare piece in the years I’ve been gone. He’s all man now.”
Appalled that the woman would even mention such a thing in polite company, Eve could not address her words directly but said only, “Need I remind you that you didn’t want him?”
“He was a boy before, not the man he is now – and he’s rich to boot,” Vanessa responded, as if Eve were an idiot child. "Besides even if I can’t have him, that doesn't mean I'll let anyone else have him.”
“Bitch,” Abby muttered under her breath.
“What did you say?”
Abby squared her shoulders and glared at Vanessa. “I said that you, madam, are a bloody bitch.”
“What's that supposed to mean?”
“I’m sorry, do you need a definition?”
Vanessa came at her with claws bared. “Why you! I'll…”
“You'll nothing.” Eve caught her arm and pulled her back. “Go away, Vanessa. Go back to where ever it was you came from.”
“And let you have Glenrothes?” Vanessa spat out. “Never! You can't have my husband."
“Ex-husband, madam, and I already have him,” came Eve’s calm assurance, though she amazed herself by directly addressing such a personal matter.
“Not totally,” the other woman countered. “He’ll never be yours.”
“We shall see,” Eve countered with quiet confidence.
“Yes, we shall,” Vanessa sneered and flounced away. “Sooner than you think!”
Chapter 36
Vanessa stood near a potted palm nearly an hour later, waving her fan before her face as she watched her former husband talking with the Countess of Shaftesbury. The countess was stunning. She had expected to see that beauty falter upon closer inspection, but to her chagrin, it had not. Her skin was enviable, smooth and unlined, even though she was nearing thirty years. And while her gown alone would have been enough to envy, the countess was also tall, trim and elegant, making Vanessa feel short and frumpy in her own red velvet gown that she had adorned with black fur. Where she had before thought the fur trim added to her voluptuousness, she now felt it made her look almost fat. She stood out in the sea of black and white like a beacon of bad taste.
Vanessa watched the earl lean closely to whisper in the woman’s ear. A radiant blush flooded her cheeks when he raised her hand and pressed a lingering kiss to her palm. Glenrothes led her out to the dance floor, taking her in his arms as if she were something fragile and precious, before launching into a whirling waltz that spun the countess around the floor. Her skirts flared up, revealing her black petticoats and drawing the appreciative stares of several gentlemen to her trim ankles.
Heads turned as they rotated around the circumference of the floor. They were a stunning pair in their black and white attire, both so tall, and he with his hair and skin so dark standing in stark contrast to her pale beauty. Yet they saw no one around them. It was very clear their focus was completely on each other. The earl was smiling. Vanessa realized she had never seen him do so before. He looked happily captivated by the woman. Tender… loving? The truth struck her like lightening. They were in love!
Vanessa frowned. She had been in love once as a young girl, before her father forced her
to marry the boy Glenrothes had been. Her lover had been a mere crofter, however, and her father had refused to allow them to be together. It had been almost fifteen years since she’d felt anything that looked like what the couple on the dance floor felt.
That was unacceptable.
Why should they have what she could not?
The countess laughed as Glenrothes spun her around. A vision of pure joy. Their recent confrontation seemed not to bother her much, though it had bothered Vanessa greatly. She could readily see that it would be nearly impossible to get Francis back for herself and was now ready to take the money Glenrothes had offered and run. But first, she wanted to see the countess suffer total humiliation for making Vanessa Fane feel inadequate.
She swallowed deeply in an attempt to rein in her anger. “When?” she growled aloud, never looking away from the pair. “When are you going to get her out of here? I want her gone. This is so demeaning.”
“Never worry, my dear,” her companion answered softly, staying within the shadow of the fronds. “It never does well to create a scene such as you did at the duchess’ garden party this afternoon and nearly did again tonight. Nearly told her about me, didn’t you? Nearly told her of our plan? That simply will not do. Patience.”
“I’ve never done particularly well with patience,” she informed him.
“Fear not, you shan’t have to wait any longer,” he responded with a nod to the room. “I believe our moment has arrived.”
The waltz had come to an end and, after a quick word and an adoring smile to her partner, the Countess of Shaftesbury gracefully exited the ballroom nodding cordially to acquaintances along the way. Vanessa’s compatriot slipped quietly after her, shadowing Eve into the hallway as she made her way to the ladies retiring room, waving Vanessa back as she made to follow.
A sly smile twisted her lips as she watched him go. Now that cold bitch would pay for taking what was hers.
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