Henry drew back and stared at Donovan. “I-I can’t. It isn’t that I don’t want to, but I made a promise to my future bride.”
“The woman who doesn’t care if you do this in a few weeks after your wedding?” McGilvery burst out, jumping to his feet.
“Yes, and if you ask me in a few weeks, I’ll bloody well do it then.” Henry folded his arms.
“In a few weeks, Grayson will have moved on to something else,” Donovan said. “A man like him is unaccustomed to waiting. If I don’t submit the research to him right away, it won’t happen at all. Please, all I’m asking you to do is look at a few figures. Help me see where I’m going wrong. No one has to know.”
Henry shut his eyes. He had promised Evangeline, and he would know he hadn’t kept that promise even if she never did. But McGilvery was right that there was a brief window of opportunity for the society in this matter. He couldn’t be responsible for it closing.
“Fine,” he grumbled as he motioned to the desk.
Relief flowed over McGilvery’s features as he drew a rolled up piece of vellum from his inner pocket. He unfurled it onto Henry’s desktop, and for a moment Henry’s heart rate increased wildly. God, but he had missed figures like these. This was a particularly complex equation, filling the entire large sheet from corner to corner.
He leaned over it, beginning a slow examination of every number and letter before him so he could find the segment that was incorrect.
“Mr. Killam?” Deacon said again from the door.
“Yes?” Henry didn’t stop looking at the numbers.
“You’ve received a message from Lady Evangeline,” the butler said.
“Leave it there,” Henry said, motioning vaguely toward the sideboard. “I’ll look at it shortly.”
As the butler left, Henry lost himself in the figures again. And he forgot everything else, as he always did, including the discomfort in his chest that told him he was doing something wrong.
Evangeline sat at the table in her dressing room, staring at the beautiful hothouse flowers sitting on the surface before her. She propped her chin into her palm as the soft scent of honeysuckle and roses tickled her nose.
“Honeysuckle in winter,” Tibby said as she passed by the table, tidying up from that morning’s toilette. “He does know how to woo a lady.”
“Indeed,” Evangeline sighed. “Every day for the three weeks since our engagement ball, it is something new. Flowers, books he thinks I’ll like, and the man is always right. He took me to that exhibit of Mary Linwood’s worsted work because he knew I’d like the intricacy of the stitching.”
“And Covent Garden,” Tibby added. “How you both laughed at the pantomimes.”
Evangeline shook her head. She could not deny so many parts of the past few weeks had bound her closer to Henry, but it was two things altogether different that were melting her icy heart toward him.
First were his letters. Each day she received one at half past three. His handwriting was neat and careful, that of a scientist, she supposed, who had to take good notes to be understood. But when he got excited about a subject the hand became a bit wobblier. And there was so much he thrilled at. Discovery was an act of pure love to him. And he shared new discoveries with her with passion.
He also wrote about his family, his friends, his reasons for pursuing astronomy. His story of seeing a comet the year his mother died…it had brought a tear to her eye and made her feel so much closer to him.
She wrote back, of course. To not do so was abominably rude. But she had not yet felt brave enough to confess any of her own deep secrets. Not that he pressed. He stayed true to his word that he would only convince her of his intentions. He made no demands.
Sometimes she almost wished he would.
And the other part that had bound them was something she would never discuss with Tibby. Henry had continued his dedication to her physical pleasure. If they had a moment to sneak away together and he could do so discreetly, he could have her moaning with a few flicks of his tongue or circles of his talented fingertips. She found herself waking in the night, hands between her clenching thighs, dreaming of him poised there to take her.
She wanted him to take her so damned much. She wanted to surrender herself to him fully, she supposed because she trusted him with her body.
And that was frightening because it wasn’t just her body he was involving now. She already felt a strong pull of her heart. One she wasn’t quite ready to submit to.
“Lady Evangeline?”
She blinked and forced herself back to the present, where Tibby was standing beside her door, staring at her. “I’m sorry, I was woolgathering. What were you saying?”
“I was wondering if I should prepare your riding habit for later today. It’s a little warmer out and you wished to go riding with Mr. Killam at some point.”
Evangeline nodded. “Yes. I’ll write him and see if he would like to meet me at our spot in the park later. He answered my letter a few days ago so late and I haven’t seen him since, so it would be good to reconnect.”
She bit her lip as she said it. Damn, could she not go even a few days without him now? Was that how far she’d fallen?
“Very good,” Tibby said with a bit of a smug smile. “I will—”
There was a sharp rap at the door that interrupted the maid’s thought. She glanced at Evangeline with a shrug and then opened the door. It was Hughes on the other side, his expression tight. “Excuse me, Lady Evangeline, but your father has demanded you join him in his study immediately.”
Evangeline rose and moved toward the door. “I thought Father was at his club. When did he return?”
“Just now, my lady, and he is not in a good humor. He asked me to fetch you at once.”
Evangeline fought the rising sense of dread in her chest and nodded. “Of course. Tibby, ready those riding clothes. I’ll write to Henry when I return.”
Tibby’s mouth was a thin, worried line, but she inclined her head as Evangeline slipped past her and Hughes and made her way to her father’s study. She had no idea why he might be upset today. Normally his club days were anything but upsetting, for he held court with all the other men who wanted his favor and influence.
But she would soon know why he wanted her, for she paused at the closed door to his study to gather herself. Then she forced a bright smile as she breezed into the room. “Good day, Father, you are home early. You wished to see me?”
He was sitting at his desk, staring at a paper, and he rose as she entered the room. His expression was twisted and angry, a darkness to him that she rarely saw.
“What is it?” she asked, dropping her façade and moving toward him.
“Have you had word from your fiancé today?” he said, tilting his head at her in what felt like accusation.
She blinked. “Henry sent me…he sent me flowers this morning. I have not yet received his daily letter today. Why?” Her heart sank. “Is—is something wrong with him. Is he well?”
“He seems very well,” her father growled. “Get your wrap, daughter. We are going to see Mr. Killam.”
“Father,” Evangeline said, raising her hands. “I must demand that you tell me what is going on. Why are you angry with Henry? Why are you angry at all?”
“We will discuss it with the gentleman himself,” her father said, getting to his feet and slamming his hands down on the desktop. “I’ll call for the carriage.”
Evangeline stared at him, helpless in her lack of understanding, and then turned and left the room. As she staggered back up the stairs, her hands shook. Her father was not a man quick to rage and yet here he was, clearly barely managing to control himself.
She pushed into her chamber and Tibby looked up from the clothing she was carefully arranging. “That was quick.” She frowned. “What is it?”
“I don’t know,” Evangeline admitted. “He is very angry at Henry and insists we go to him right now, but he will not tell me what is going on.”
The w
orld swam a fraction and she caught the back of a chair to steady herself. Tibby rushed forward, supporting her elbow. “Lady Evangeline, you are pale as paper.”
Evangeline shook her head. She was being weak, so weak, and she hated herself for it. It proved what she already knew, that growing too close to a person was dangerous. But she was close to the man she’d arranged to become her husband.
And she feared whatever could have caused her father to be so unhappy with him.
“Evangeline!”
Her father’s voice echoed from all the way in the foyer and Evangeline flinched as she motioned for her heavy pelisse. “He is waiting, I must go.”
Tibby patted her arm and followed her to the top of the stairs as Evangeline rushed for her father. He was already out at the carriage and he gripped her hand a little too tightly as he helped her into the vehicle.
They began to move around the perimeter of the park toward Henry’s home and he glared at her. “If you are involved in this, Evangeline, I shall be very angry with you.”
“Involved in what?” she asked. “I am in the dark, Father, and you are starting to frighten me.”
He glowered and merely stared out the carriage window for the few moments it took to arrive at Henry’s home. He didn’t wait to help her out, but let the footman do it as he strode up the stairs. Henry’s butler, Deacon, opened the door before they could knock.
“Your Grace,” he said in surprise. “Lady Evangeline. I—”
Her father ignored him and started down the hall. Evangeline rushed to keep up, sending the servant an apologetic look as her father reached Henry’s study door and pushed it open.
Henry got to his feet as they entered the room. He at first looked confused and then his gaze flitted to the papers on the desk before him. Star charts. Equations. Notes that were obviously about his project, the one he was not supposed to be pursuing for the short time they were engaged.
She lifted a hand to her mouth.
“Your Grace,” he said, waving off Deacon as he came around his desk. “Evangeline. May I—may I get you a drink?” He was trying to pretend calm, but Evangeline heard the slight lift to his voice. The tension.
“You lied to me,” her father growled.
“Your Grace—” Henry began.
Her father reached into his pocket and whipped out pile of folded paper. “This will be made public in a few hours time,” he said softly. “Will it not?”
Evangeline stepped closer as Henry shook the bundle open. It was the newsletter for the Society of London Astronomical Studies, and she saw the first article on the front page was written by the man she had met here weeks ago, Donovan McGilvery…and the Honorable Henry Killam.
Henry stared at the paper that had been thrown in his face and his heart dropped. He shook his head slowly. “This was not to be published until…until…”
He drew off, for those words would help no one. Evangeline’s father was angry, and certainly didn’t need to hear that his daughter had conspired against him and that Henry had gone along with the deception so they could flout both their fathers’ rules.
“Your father’s name may not mean much,” the duke said as he snatched the paper away and threw it on top of the research materials on Henry’s desk. “But mine is worth a great deal. I told you that you were not to continue this foolishness, certainly not to publish again under your real name. And yet I go to my club today and my friends are asking what it feels like to marry my daughter off to a man who insists on doing work in the world.”
Henry should have kept his gaze on the very angry man standing across from him, but he couldn’t. Instead he let his eyes move to Evangeline. She was staring at him, her arms folded, her cheeks pale. She was stone, no emotion on her face or in her eyes. Not anger, not sadness, not fear.
Nothing.
“Your Grace,” he began. “Please allow me to explain.”
“Explain that you lied to me? That you embarrassed me? What is there to explain, Killam? The fact is that we have read the banns twice and yet I question now if I should allow you to marry Evangeline.”
Henry gasped at the magnitude of that statement. The duke was far angrier than he’d thought to even consider such a move. To do so would be to harm Evangeline socially. Ending an engagement so close to the actual wedding?
“Father, you have every right to your feelings,” Evangeline said softly, her tone still blank as she stepped up and took her father’s arm gently. “Perhaps a walk back home would clear your head? I’ll speak to you about this situation after I return in the carriage.”
“And what will you do?” her father barked, though his tone had softened a little at her managing.
“I want to talk to Henry,” she said, and she cast a quick, dismissive glance in his direction. “Alone. Please. I know it isn’t a regular request, but I’m asking you to grant it.”
“I will walk,” her father growled. “But I will expect you before half an hour has passed.”
She nodded and he stepped forward, looking over Henry’s notes in disgust. Then he stormed from the room and left them alone.
Chapter 16
Evangeline could hardly control the shaking of her hands as she moved to Henry’s study door and quietly closed it. She wanted to slam it and then scream, but that would give him too much. Right now she wanted to share nothing with him of how much this hurt her.
She turned to look at him. He was staring at her, helpless, and he motioned to the papers behind him. “Please let me tell you why.”
She shrugged. “What would it matter? What would why matter, Henry? It still takes us right here.”
“He’s being unreasonable,” he said.
She smiled, though there was no pleasure left in her. “Of course he is. Men like him always are because they are accustomed to getting their way. It may seem like a simple, silly thing to you, but you thwarted his rule. Worse, you made him feel foolish in front of people he keeps close because they are beneath him and worship him. That is an unforgiveable sin.”
Henry shifted. “I wasn’t thinking.”
She almost laughed at that statement. Nothing had ever been so obvious. “It doesn’t matter now, I suppose. As I said, it all leads to this. And when he says he may end the engagement, I’m sure he is being honest. He doesn’t make idle threats.”
“He would do that to you, despite the potential for social consequences being visited on your head?”
She folded her arms. “My happiness and future have rarely come into his mind. Anyone’s mind, it seems.”
“Evangeline.” He breathed her name out softly.
And it broke her. The façade she’d been trying to maintain cracked and she stepped toward him. “Why was I so foolish as to believe you?”
He jerked his head up and she could see he wanted to speak, but she held up a hand to silence him.
“I watched my mother do this, you know. She believed that she could have faith even when every piece of evidence around her said that nothing was real. That my father was not true to her. And I said I would never do the same. That I would never put myself in a situation where anyone had control over my heart or my life. But that is exactly what I’ve done myself. I believed the occasional bouquet meant love and ignored all other evidence to the contrary.”
His lips parted and she could see she’d struck a blow at the heart of him. Because of course he believed he was doing the right thing. He believed he cared. But he hadn’t. Not enough to protect her, to protect their future.
And her anger peaked again at that thought. “Henry, you only had to wait to do all this…” She waved her hand around the room toward his notes. “…you only had to wait a few weeks. That’s all I asked. Once we were married it would have taken away his leverage over you. But you cared more about this than me, no matter what pretty words you wrote to me in letters or whispered as you touched me.”
“That isn’t true,” he said, reaching for her. She dodged him and his shoulders rolled forward.
The pain that flitted across his face was so powerful she almost wanted to rush to him and comfort him.
And there was the trap again. If she opened up to him, she would spend the rest of her life chasing him. Longing for something he wouldn’t give.
“I’m not blind, Henry. I see the truth perfectly clearly,” she said.
“Donovan was stuck on an equation,” he explained, even though she had denied she cared. “He came to me a few days ago with the paperwork and asked for my help. It was to garner an important patron for the society. I was foolish not to send him away, foolish not to stick to our agreement.”
“And how did that lead to this?” she snapped pointing at the paper without touching it. She didn’t want to touch it.
He ran a hand through his hair. “When we solved the problem, we could both see how important the equation was. It had to be published. Donovan told me then that the paper your father is in a rage about would be published under both our names. He wanted me to get the credit for the work I did. He insisted. I asked him to postpone it. I thought he had, but it seems I was wrong. Perhaps he didn’t understand the vital nature of my request or perhaps there was confusion when he asked for a delay. Either way, the paper will be out by the end of the day and I did the wrong thing.”
She nodded, working hard not to let that explanation sink into her skin. She would excuse him if she found any justification to latch on to. She could feel that down to her very bones. Once she did, she would be lost for the rest of her life.
“I see. I suppose that makes me feel better, that you weren’t in complete disregard. But you didn’t talk to me about it, did you?” she whispered. “You didn’t warn me that this publication was a vague possibility, even though it could…would…affect us both.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, ducking his head. “I was wrong. I was caught up in the moment and I was very wrong.”
“Yes, you were,” she said, straightening her pelisse as if she could pull the bends and wrinkles out of her own soul. Ones she’d let herself create by being vulnerable to this man. “And now I must fix it.” She clenched her hands at her sides. “Just as I must always fix everything.”
Betrothed by Christmas Page 13
