by Leenie Brown
“You believe so?” Constance asked in surprise.
Evelyn nodded. “He removed his cravat and left it with them, and it was a fine piece of linen. Did you not see his care for the boys on his face when he spoke of them having the potential to find good positions?”
Constance shook her head. “No, I did not.”
“He removed his cravat? In the presence of ladies?”
Evelyn swallowed. Trefor Linton did not sound as impressed with the gift that was given to the boys as she herself was.
“It is not as if neither of us has not seen a male neck,” Constance retorted. “We both have brothers.”
Trefor’s eyes narrowed. “A brother not being properly attired in the comfort of his own home is something entirely different from a gentleman removing an article of clothing in the presence of ladies in a public place.”
“It was an orphan house!” Constance cried. “It was not on Bond Street.”
“You are not his sister. You are mine,” Trefor growled.
“He was leaving,” Evelyn interrupted. “He was giving them a gift so that they might practice the skill he had taught them, and then he was leaving.” She refused to look away from Trefor’s displeased glare. She was not unaccustomed to such looks. Since they had arrived in town, her mother had been looking displeased with Evelyn on an almost daily basis. At least, Mr. Linton could not remove the knocker or refuse an invitation to a ball for presenting a challenge to such a look.
“But,” she continued, “Mrs. Verity invited him to stay for tea. He was very helpful in threading needles, and he reads well. I do not think we have ever had a more enjoyable time stitching as we did while he remained. It was rather dull after he left.” She shrugged. “He kept his collar up and as closed as possible. We barely saw more than a sliver of his throat.” She would not add that it was enough of a sliver to make the rise and fall of his Adam’s apple as he read a lovely distraction from her work. No one needed to know that. Not even Constance.
“If Mrs. Verity did not deem it improper, I am certain I cannot either,” Mrs. Kendrick put in. “I have met her, and she is an upstanding lady with some very powerful connections. I trust her implicitly with Constance, or I would protest Constance’s going to such a place. And I know Mrs. Barrett feels the same. We have discussed it.”
“Mrs. Barrett would likely not be complacent about Mr. Edwards disrobing in her daughter’s presence.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Trefor,” Constance cried. “He removed a cravat. He did not disrobe, and he displayed an understanding for the impropriety of being without his neckcloth by attempting to keep his neck covered.”
“However,” Mrs. Kendrick interrupted before a full battle could erupt between sister and brother, “I would suggest we not mention the incident to Evelyn’s mother. I should hate to see something like this prevent Evelyn from doing her work with those children.”
Evelyn caught her breath as she waited for Trefor to respond. Before she challenged him, she should have thought of the possibility that he might speak to her mother.
“Very well, but I will speak to Edwards.”
Mrs. Kendrick tipped her head in acknowledgment. “I shall not stop you, but do remember that the gentleman is attempting to do some good. There are far worse things he could be doing and less appropriate places where he could be removing his cravat.”
Evelyn bit back a smile at the sparkle of amusement in the older lady’s eyes as Trefor barked out an “Aunt Gwladys!”
“You say he was on his way to buy blacking?” Mrs. Kendrick said, ignoring her nephew almost completely save for a wink that did nothing to appease him.
“Yes,” Evelyn answered.
“And you said he seemed enamoured with these children?”
“Oh, very.” Evelyn could not contain the smile that she felt all the way from her eyes to her heart at the way Mr. Edwards had spoken about and to Stephen and Arthur.
“Do you know,” she said leaning toward Mrs. Kendrick, “that he even admitted to having a character flaw and instructed the boys to continue to put forth their best effort in a project instead of only doing as much as was necessary?”
He had admitted that when, over tea, Mrs. Verity had questioned him more about his statement regarding only doing some things by halves.
“He was properly humble when admitting it as well,” Evelyn added.
“That is promising,” Mrs. Kendrick said with a smile.
“Promising?” Trefor Linton repeated skeptically.
“Yes,” his aunt replied. “It seems Mr. Edwards holds some promise that he is capable of being a proper, responsible gentleman.”
“You are not attempting to reform him as you did Crawford, are you?”
Mrs. Kendrick smoothed her skirts and shook her head. “No, I only hope to be able to encourage his proper behaviour rather than scold his normal behaviour.”
“You are not involving Constance and Miss Barrett in some scheme, are you?”
“Miss Barrett is being courted by Mr. Marsh,” his aunt assured him.
Evelyn lifted her shoulders in a small shrug in reply to Mrs. Kendrick’s questioning look.
“Now, if you would make yourself scarce, I can find out more about Mr. Marsh. Unless of course, you would like to stay and offer your input?”
Silently, Evelyn chuckled at Mrs. Kendrick’s slyness and wondered if her mother knew exactly how devious her friend could be.
Trefor was in no way interested in such a topic of discussion, and soon they were left in alone.
“You do not intend to accept Mr. Marsh?” There was a great deal of excitement in Mrs. Kendrick’s voice.
“No, I do not,” Evelyn replied. She felt a small pang of sadness, knowing that she would have to be a source of disappointment to the gentleman, but she felt no pain of loss, which assured her that she was making a wise choice.
“Constance reminded me that a life in the country might require me to give up my work here in town, and I cannot do that. Therefore, you may help me find a gentleman who is pleased to spend at least the season in town, even after he marries, and who is of a benevolent nature and would allow his wife to be involved in charities.” She saw the small smile on her friend’s lips and added, “Not Mr. Edwards,” while endeavouring to push away the small pain of regret which accompanied those words.
Chapter 11
“I saw your sister,” Charles said as he flopped into the same chair he had taken just a day ago after seeing Evelyn at Eiddwen House.
Henry filled the same cup with tea he had filled on that day and placed it in front of his friend. “Did you?”
“She is looking for someone to fill your place at her friends’ soirees.”
Henry took his seat, lifted his cup, and took a slow sip of its contents.
“I told her to find some other chap.” Charles was certain Henry wished to know if he had accepted the position or not but was hesitant to ask. Whether that hesitance was from not wishing to insult Charles by assuming he might take Mary up on her offer, or whether it was because he did not wish to hear that Charles had accepted her invitation, Charles could not be certain. However, either way, he wanted Henry to know that a pretty face and a willing companion were not enough to divide their friendship.
“She was not pleased, and I was obliged to assist her in selecting an ornament for her hair before she would allow me to depart from her side.”
Charles lifted and lowered his cup while Henry slowly nodded his acceptance of Charles’s information.
“She played the part of innocent and injured sister quite well when we met Miss Barrett and Miss Linton outside the shop to which she had compelled me to accompany her.”
“Did she speak to Constance?”
Charles could hear the concern in Henry’s voice. It would be wonderful to have his own someone like Constance about whom to worry. The thought caused him to involuntarily gasp just as he was attempting to swallow his tea. “No,” he managed to say between coug
hs and sputters, “not beyond telling the ladies to give you her regards as they left. Otherwise, Miss Barrett put herself forward to speak, so that her friend would not be obliged to do so.”
The right corner of Henry’s mouth tipped up in a pleased half smile. “I am certain Constance appreciated that.”
Charles shrugged. “I am certain I cannot say with any degree of acuity one way or the other, but I would imagine it to be the case. Miss Barrett is very compassionate. She seems to always be looking to the needs of others and seeing to their welfare. She is quite remarkable really.”
Indeed, Evelyn was so remarkable that if he were to be absolutely truthful, more than the bruise remaining around his eye and the knowledge of the scheming against Henry in which Mary had taken part, it had been remembering Evelyn’s smile of approval that had compelled him to refuse Miss Crawford’s many attempts to persuade him to her cause. He took a long, slow sip of his tea. He had felt guilty when he had stepped out of that store and found himself in front of Evelyn. She had not been pleased to see him with Miss Crawford. It had been a fleeting look, but he had seen it.
He expelled a great sigh. “I cannot believe I am about to ask you this,” he began, then he shook his head. “No, I likely should not. It is not possible.”
Henry looked at him curiously. “What is not possible?”
Charles shook his head again. “Forget I mentioned anything. It was just a foolish notion.”
Henry continued to look at him with curiosity but did not press the point. “This is twice now that you have been at my house before I would have expected to see you.”
“I was at Mrs. Verity’s today. You remember I mentioned my desire to see the place, do you not? I was sipping tea right here when I did it.”
“I remember,” Henry said before returning to his tea.
“You are not going to ask me about my visit?”
“Must I ask?” Henry replied with a smirk. “I just assumed you would tell me. That is your normal way.”
Henry had the right of it. It was not like Charles to keep an interesting tale to himself when he was with a friend such as Henry.
“I taught two young lads to tie a cravat, and then I had tea with Mrs. Verity, Miss Barrett, and Miss Linton while they sewed clothes for the youngsters — several tears in petticoats and a few patches on trousers. The trousers with patches are for when the boys are working at things which will naturally be dirty jobs.”
He stopped for a sip of tea. “I even read to them for a time while they stitched.”
He leaned back in his chair and cradled his cup between his hands. “The one boy – Arthur — knew about doxies by the time he was seven. Can you believe that? I think I was at least ten before I knew about them. But then, my father did not work at an inn.”
“That does seem a bit young, I suppose,” Henry muttered.
“I left my cravat with them – Arthur and Stephen – so that they could practice.”
“That was a kind gesture.”
Charles nodded. “I liked it there, and I am going back.”
“Because of Miss Barrett?” Henry refilled his cup as Charles considered his question.
The chance to see Miss Barrett was no small inducement to him to be anywhere, but even if she were not there, as she likely might not be since she also spent time at Eiddwen House, he would still return to Mrs. Verity’s. Sitting with those young boys today had been revealing.
“No,” Charles finally said. “I wish to return for those boys. There are things I can teach them.”
He placed his cup on its saucer and, resting his arms on the table, leaned toward Henry. The idea that he could teach anyone a useful skill, one that had nothing to do with seducing a lady, was both strange and wonderful. He had assumed that since he had been such a poor student at his father’s side, he would naturally never be fit to teach a son, but today, those boys revealed that it was a possibility. He might be able to be a father at some point, and a good one at that.
“I bought blacking, and we will polish boots on my next visit.”
“That seems a worthy skill to impart.”
“I thought so.”
The room fell into silence save for the clink of cup on saucer and the soft slurping of tea.
“What did you not wish to ask me?” Henry said, breaking the stillness of the room. “Is it about Miss Barrett?”
“In part, I suppose.”
There was something compelling about the lady that made him wish to present himself as a rival to Mr. Marsh, and the thought caused his heart to race and his hands to become clammy. In short, the idea of presenting himself as a possible suitor to any lady terrified him. Floating along in life from scheme to scheme was a far easier thing to do than being proper and respectable and worthy of the love and devotion of anyone – especially a lady such as Evelyn Barrett with her proper behaviour, her dedication to the welfare of others, her frightening mother, and, he smiled, her manner of speaking to him directly and expecting more from him than anyone had in his entire life. He shook his head. He was not entirely sure he was up to such a challenge. But if he were ever to be a father…
“No, not in part,” he said, placing his cup on the table and rising. “In full. How do I become like you?” He waved his hand at Henry’s person. “Respectable.”
Henry shook his head. “It has not taken you very long to fall into danger. You have only just begun your scheme.”
Charles ran his hand through his hair. “I know. I know.”
Henry had warned him that it was a dangerous scheme, but Charles had often taken on schemes that posed some danger – usually in the prospect of physical harm or a forced marriage if discovered – but never had he ever felt his heart was in danger of being lost and possibly destroyed. Never had any lady fascinated him as Miss Barrett, and she had captured his interest without so much as a bat of her lashes or a flirtatious and coy smile.
“You no longer just wish for a kiss?” Henry’s tone verged on laughter.
Charles dropped into a chair near the window. “I do not know what I wish.” It was not entirely true. He suspected he knew very well what he wanted. But he was not yet ready to admit that he wanted to put away his life of cavorting. He looked at Henry. “I still want to kiss her; I will not deny that fact, but I do not want to just kiss her once.”
He wanted to see her smile at him, to welcome him, to willingly bestow her kisses on him, and to hear her say that she was pleased with him – not with how he treated a servant or some orphan but with him. And that was likely where Charles’s real problem lay. He knew who he wanted to be in relation to Miss Barret. However, he had no idea who he was to himself or what he had to offer. What was he besides a charming devil who was proficient at causing ladies to blush and entertaining his friends with his scandalous behavior? There was nothing about him which would inspire Miss Barrett to praise him.
Henry sighed and settled back into his chair. “I needed Mrs. Kendrick’s help.” He smiled. “Which she provided through Constance.”
“I am quite certain Mrs. Barrett would not allow her daughter to help me become respectable,” Charles muttered.
Henry laughed. “Most decidedly not. However…”
“What?”
“Mrs. Kendrick might be of assistance.”
“Linton’s aunt?” Charles’s eyebrows flew to as close to his hairline as they could get.
Henry shrugged. “She seemed to know I needed Constance and that by pushing us together on the project of improving me, we would fall in love. She’s as devious as Linton is demanding.”
“Mrs. Kendrick? Are you certain? She is good friends with Mrs. Barrett.” It seemed a terrible idea, and yet, not entirely horrid.
Henry nodded. “Approach her with generalities. Ask her how one might go about becoming less of a scoundrel. I would trust her answers far more than I would trust mine.”
“Mrs. Kendrick?”
Henry nodded. “And whatever she tells you to do, I will help you
if needed.”
Charles flopped back against the soft padding of his chair. Knights of old had faced injury and death in tournaments to earn the hand of a fair maiden. Surely, he could approach Mrs. Kendrick and ask for assistance in winning a lady’s hand and in the process, he might even learn how to tame the dragon that protected the prized young lady. A smile curled his lips. He had taken on difficult schemes before for far less reward. All he needed to do was find a way to speak to Mrs. Kendrick without either her niece or her nephew discovering his reason. He looked at Henry. “Not a word of this to Constance or her brother.”
Henry placed his hand on his heart. “I promise.”
Charles rose from his seat and straightened his jacket. “Unless, of course, Linton has you by the throat. In such a case, tell him whatever you must to retain your life.”
Henry chuckled. “Duly noted. Please try to refrain from doing anything which might precipitate such an event.”
“I will do my best, but I make no promises. This is my first – and hopefully only – attempt at improvement.” He took his hat from the table next to the door. “Thank you for the tea and the advice. Will I see you tonight?”
“Only if you join us at the theatre,” Henry replied.
Charles smiled. “I would not dream of missing it.”
“That was not an invitation,” Henry called after him.
“It sounded like one to me,” Charles called back from the hall.
Chapter 12
“Mr. Edwards seemed rather disappointed to find you were not attending the theatre last night,” Constance said to Evelyn as they strolled in the park the next day. “But he bore it quite well and entertained himself by speaking to my aunt. She seems to have taken well to him now that he has shown some desire to improve.”
