Evelyn blinked, making the silence deadly to his self-esteem. How many times had she blinked before answering?
"That would be lovely."
"Brilliant!" Royce realized he hadn't been breathing and would have probably passed out had she not answered when she did. "Shall we conclude our breakfast and find a comfortable hiding place outside whilst we wait?"
Evelyn eyed him speculatively, and then grinned. "Agreed, but…" she pointed at him, "if you touch my warm chocolate this morning, or my pastry, I'm kicking you out."
"My dear, I wouldn't dream of it. I even took the liberty of having the pastry heated up for you. Seems you took awhile to better yourself, though I must admit you looked ravishing earlier this morning. No matter. I had the cook take it back while you finished your morning rituals."
"Saints be praised," she mumbled, sipping her warm chocolate with a look of absolute ecstasy.
"Wish you would look at me like that," he muttered, reaching for his own pastry.
"Pardon?" Evelyn peered up at him, all clear-eyed and beautiful.
"Nothing." He reached for his napkin and became captivated again as she daintily ate her morning meal.
The words lovesick, ridiculous, fool, floated around in his head throughout the morning, but he didn't mind. Not with Evelyn in the room. She had a way of making everything brighter—happier. The connection with her was more than just physical. It was as if by sharing the same air, he was able to feel more like himself, something he hadn't felt since his father died.
Chapter Eleven
They sauntered to the back of the large house and sat beneath a tree hidden from the rest of the outside area, where the makeshift tent was already set up for her father and Royce's mother. They had a basket of food and a bottle of wine. Royce also insisted on bringing playing cards, so he could teach her how to play the civilized game of whist.
"Whist? However are we going to keep an eye on them, if we're playing games the entire time?" Evelyn put her hands on her hips, drawing Royce's eyes down the long slender line of her body.
"I…" He was a complete blank.
"You what?" she invited.
Royce wasn't sure what had come over him, but in the morning light with the sun beaming down on Evelyn's face, he was certain he had never seen a more beautiful woman in his life. "That is to say, I think if they try to make a run for it, we'll notice."
Evelyn seemed satisfied with his response and sat on the blanket, exhaling loudly. "So, when are they coming?"
"Right about now." Royce pointed across the lawn to both of their parents, slowly approaching hand in hand. They laughed as they settled beneath the tent and smiled sickeningly at one another whilst a servant poured wine for them.
Not wanting to be outdone, Royce pulled out his own bottle of wine and poured glasses for Evelyn and him. When he was finished, he took out a deck of cards and began shuffling. He yawned once, suddenly realizing how utterly exhausted he felt. Shaking the tiredness from his head, he rubbed his eyes and took a healthy gulp of wine.
"You're tired." Evelyn shifted towards him.
"Maybe." Shrugging, he put down his wine and leaned against the tree.
"Why don't you close your eyes for a bit? I'll keep watch."
Royce rolled his eyes. "And go down in history for the worse adventure partner ever? No, that's okay. I'll stay awake."
"Suit yourself."
****
Minutes later Royce was asleep. Evelyn watched as his eyes became gradually heavier and heavier, knowing for certain he would fall victim to sleep soon. Finally his breathing deepened and he slumped against the tree.
That was when Evelyn finally realized how tired she was as well. "Might as well close my eyes a bit," she said out loud as she glanced at her daddy's picnic. They weren't going anywhere soon. It couldn't hurt to take a little catnap. She was a light sleeper. What was the worst that could happen?
Evelyn slept so hard, she didn't even dream. A loud crash woke her from her sleep. Panicking, she looked around and noticed the servants taking down the tent. And then she heard laughter.
"'Don't worry, Royce! I'll stand guard!'" Royce's voice mocked from behind. "You stood guard, all right. Just how long did you wait after I fell asleep before you decided to take your little nap, hmm?"
Evelyn felt her face flush. "It wasn't on purpose! And you looked so peaceful, and they were just sitting there! You weren't even supposed to fall asleep, Mr. 'I don't need sleep, I am a man.'"
Royce shook his head. "We lost them, and now we have no idea where they went!"
"Course we do." Evelyn pushed off the grass. "They're going to the ball tonight, and so are we." She held out her hand to Royce and waited. He grasped it and didn't let go the entire way to the house.
Evelyn didn't want to read too much into their prolonged contact, but then again, she was already falling head over heels for the man against her better judgment. They had shared kisses but never held hands. It almost seemed more personal to her, more intimate.
Royce picked a daisy and handed it to her, causing another familiar blush to creep up her cheeks. "I will be back around half past eight tonight, my sweet. Does that suit you?" He opened the back door and ushered her inside. As she passed him, she could feel the heat radiating from his body. All she wanted in that moment was to fall backward into his arms.
"That should be just fine, although the ball isn't until nine. Why so early?"
Royce grinned wolfishly as his lips became dangerously close to hers. "That is for me to know and you to find out. I'll see myself out. Good afternoon, love." With that, he tipped his hat and marched out the door like a man on a mission.
Foolishly, Evelyn couldn't help but wonder if that certain mission had something to do with her.
****
He was going to marry her. The silly grin he had been wearing for days was still cheerfully plastered all over his face for the world to see. For the first time in his life, Royce didn't care. He had found the one woman who set his passions aflame and who wasn't afraid to give her opinion or order him about.
It was marvelous.
And she was going to be his.
Unfortunately, planning ahead had never been one of his strong suits. He knew he had limited time to purchase a ring and even more limited time to talk with Mr. De Jarlias. The sooner the better.
Rushing to the shops, he stopped when the ramifications of his actions hit him square in the chest. He was to be married. A wife! And it would be soon!
A sickening feeling erupted in his stomach, almost making him stop to relieve it of its contents. He had to tell Evelyn of his past. Granted, she probably had heard enough gossip from others to develop her own ideas; then again, she hadn't known about his two mistresses. The two mistresses whom he had seen at the same time on the same night not so long ago.
How could he have been so foolish and selfish? It was hardly an excuse, but he had been walking around in an emotional haze for the past year since his father's death. No sin of the flesh had helped him. He had always hoped it would. An idiotic idea. To think he could fill the one gaping hole in his heart that only love could heal.
Royce swallowed the knot of guilt for what he had to tell Evelyn and took a step toward the house he used to frequent the most. It was time to say goodbye to the women of his past and move on with the one holding his heart—his future.
****
Surely her life had turned into a dream! Evelyn danced around her room in fits of excitement as she thought about the night ahead of her. He had a surprise for her! Suddenly she was thankful for her daddy's wise words of not judging a book by its cover.
Lost in a flurry of joy, she ran into her room to find something suitable to wear for the Valentine's Ball. It was to be a masquerade; although she had never attended one, she heard they were wickedly fun and, at times, dangerous. Since the masks hid people's faces, it was natural those wearing the masks would become braver, doing things that otherwise, unmasked, they wouldn't dream
of doing.
Upon opening her wardrobe, Evelyn suddenly realized she had nothing suitable to wear. The mask that had been purchased for her by the modiste was plain—a word she didn't feel adequately described the feelings she had at the moment. After all, it was a celebration of love, and she felt she needed something to show for it.
Royce would be back in a few hours. If she hurried, she would have time to run down to the shops to find a suitable mask and gloves to match. Hurriedly she searched for the dress with the white and black lace and made a mental note to match it with a white mask and black gloves.
Chapter Twelve
By the time Evelyn was able to reach the store, she knew she was short on time. It had taken awhile to convince her maid to let her shop on her own, and even longer to convince the driver that she was fine taking the carriage on her own. Only two hours to get back to her house and prepare. Quickly, she found what she was looking for. A beautiful white mask lay before her. It had crystals lining the slits where her eyes would be, and feathers laced the rest of the white material around her face. It was perfect.
She purchased her mask and went on to the glove shop further down the street. This particular street, although still safe, was rumored to have several whorehouses in the area. Something Evelyn was warned about by her daddy. Lucky for her, the glove store was on the edge of the street, so Evelyn wouldn't have to go all the way down to where the brothels lined up in sad rows. If her daddy hadn't warned her of such things, she would be clueless as to what the homes were used for. The only thing that gave away their identity was the obvious location.
It made her feel odd knowing so much debauchery was going on, and nobody did anything to stop it. Evelyn shrugged off the feeling and reached out to open the door, when she saw Royce coming down the stairs of a large house across the street. She was just about to yell out his name, when a scantily-clad woman ran out of the house after him, pulled him into a tight embrace from behind and abruptly ran back up the stairs.
Royce had the strangest expression of elation on his face. Maybe the woman was a relation? Or a dear friend? Though she was dressed rather…
And then with a sickening feeling Evelyn realized the location of the house. It was identical to all the rest, poorly lit, and on the same side of the street that her daddy had warned her about.
It was a whorehouse.
The man she loved, who not even an hour ago had given her all the hope in the world that he was a changed man—better than she could have imagined—was a liar.
Gloves were the last thing on her mind. Her first and foremost priority suddenly changed to escaping down the street without him seeing her. Her heart pounded along with the click clack of her heeled shoes as she hurried around the corner to her waiting carriage and driver. She climbed into the carriage without waiting for assistance, her chest heaving. She waited three full minutes before breaking into gut-wrenching sobs, ruining any chance of having a beautiful face instead of puffiness tonight at the ball.
How could he? Did she mean nothing? Was it all a game? It had seemed so real, so perfect. It didn't make sense. Was it because she was a woman of virtue? Not throwing herself at him like those other cheap women did?
It infuriated her all the more because they made her want to check her own morals and ethics. He brought out such feelings of desire she would willingly throw caution to the wind and give herself to him. Thank God she hadn't.
Her legs were trembling still when the carriage pulled up the drive to her home. A grief-stricken haze seemed to choke the breath out of her until she was certain she would pass out. The driver had to physically lift her out of the carriage and walk her up the stairs. When Evelyn reached the door to her house, she desperately tried to wipe away any evidence of the tears, lest her daddy be home and wonder what had upset his little girl.
Evelyn straightened her shoulders, and she went inside. She was immediately relieved to find nobody was around to question her emotional instability. Legs like lead, she climbed each individual stair until the door to her bedroom faced her. Still shaking, she turned the knob, walked in, slammed the door and slumped against it, allowing herself to slip to the floor, considering ways to mend her broken heart.
****
Royce hadn't realized how much his life had taken a downward spiral until he approached his past. He had always visited such establishments in the dark and slightly foxed. In the daytime, totally sober, the houses where his mistresses lived seemed like the pits of Hell itself. Had he momentarily lost his sanity to have come to a place like this seeking pleasure?
Why hadn't his mother knocked some sense into him? Pulled his own pistol on him? Refused to let him run the family businesses? He hadn't deserved her love, nor did he deserve anyone's love or forgiveness now. But Evelyn gave him strength and the desire to want more for himself. To actually want a future without the sins of the past making black marks on his and Evelyn's life together.
It was the best decision he had ever made in his life, to face the demons of his past, even if it meant facing his many sins. Which is exactly what it was. Upon entering the house, he immediately noticed the smell. Must and sin seemed to literally drip from the walls, repelling him instantly. As he continued his journey down the hall to the rooms he used to frequent most, he couldn't help but notice the women, lounging around, looking as if they had been beaten all night.
During the usual hours, the women were drinking and dressed to entice. Now looking at them, they seemed old and worn. Like they wanted to run but had nowhere to run to. Keeping his eyes downcast, he walked into the last room on the left and cleared his throat.
He repeated the same speech twice. To two different women. He apologized for his behavior. And even offered them jobs at reputable hotels where they could become maids if they so desired. Neither women said much, but Sheila in a fit of sadness ran after him and grabbed him from behind when he was just outside the establishment. He turned to face her and gave her a small embrace before leaving his past behind him.
The air suddenly smelled fresh, clean, new—he walked down the stairs with a purpose. He was going to propose to Evelyn tonight. If she would have him. And he hoped to God she would. For now, she held every piece of his mangled heart and had the capability to destroy it with her refusal.
Chapter Thirteen
When Royce reached the steps to Evelyn's home, he was as nervous as a little boy on his first day of school. By the time the irritated butler opened the door, he was certain he would throw up all the contents of his stomach. And by the time he was escorted into the sitting room, he was ready to down every last bottle of homemade moonshine in the house.
It was calling out to him. Whispering sweet promises of calming his nerves, just as he heard a feminine voice call out his name. "Royce."
He closed his eyes and savored the honeyed sound of her Southern accent. Would it be terribly rude to get married on the morrow? On Valentine's Day?
Turning as he pushed himself out of the chair, all of his nervousness hit him again, full force across the chest. It was suddenly hard to breathe. He swallowed to give himself a moment to think as he stared.
And stared.
And then stared some more.
Good thing she knew him to be one who was sometimes speechless, because at the moment he was gawking.
Her gown was fully white all the way to the floor, but tipped around the edges in black satin. As she turned to grab her gloves he was able to see the scoop of the back. He groaned. It was scandalously low. Her mask covered only half of her face, making her eyes stand out so much it hurt for him to stare directly at her.
He was an idiot to think she would say yes. Beautiful women like her married princes and titled gentlemen. They sailed to Europe and married a duke, much like his relative the Duke of Tempest. They didn't marry merchants. And they didn't marry him. A man who didn't deserve to breathe the same air as someone so pure and innocent.
"You are beautiful," he choked out as he went to take her
arm. She flinched at his touch and gave a small curtsy.
"Shall we?" Without waiting for answer, she walked ahead of him until they reached the waiting carriage. The gown she was wearing shimmered in the moonlight, taking his breath away.
He was mad for her.
Getting into the carriage behind her was no easy task as his eyes were transfixed by the fullness of her form. He wanted to worship her. Surely God wouldn't mind if Royce reverently worshipped one of His finest creations?
"Are you well?" Royce bit his lip as he waited for Evelyn's response. Why were her eyes so downcast? Was she unwell again?
"I am."
Her response was clipped.
"If you're too tired, Evelyn, we can go back." He wanted to kick himself as he watched her shoulders slump even more. Something was wrong. It was probably him. Wasn't it always him? "What did you do this afternoon, love?"
"I went shopping." Licking her lips, she met his eyes.
He nodded and smiled. "Ah, yes, shopped the day of the ball. Whatever did you shop for?"
"A mask for the Valentine's Ball."
"It is a lovely mask." The tension in the carriage was awkward. Clearing his throat, he pried further. "And where else did you shop?"
"Franklins glove store, the one on the other side of town."
Something wasn't right. As the carriage rumbled to a stop it hit him.
"The glove store on the other side of town? The same glove store next to the disreputable areas? This afternoon?" Leaning in as he questioned her, he noticed Evelyn's lip quiver. She turned away and stepped out of the carriage.
"It's not what you think." Desperately Royce tried to sound reassuring, even though everything inside him screamed, "Idiot!"
An Unlikely Alliance Page 6
