Betrothed by Christmas

by Jess Michaels

  She opened the door and moved into the hall. He followed her, catching her arm and turning her back. Just the touch made her body tremble, and she yanked her arm away to break off that unwanted reaction to him.

  He stared down at her. “What will you do?”

  “Go to my ridiculous father and convince him that we will still marry. To save myself, if nothing else.” She shook her head. “And he’ll agree in the end because I know he will. Ending the engagement will cause him more harm than even your silly paper would do, and he’ll see that once his stupid pride is less sore. So I’ll fix it, Henry. But as for us?”

  He caught his breath and she could see him waiting for what she’d say next.

  She backed away a long step. “This experiment of yours is over. My hypothesis was proven right and yours wrong, so that is the end of it. We will have our marriage of convenience. You will return to your precious research soon enough.”

  “No,” he said, catching her arm again, this time to draw her closer. “No, Evangeline. I won’t accept that. I can’t. You must know I love you. I love you.”

  She stared up at him, hating that her eyes flooded with tears at those words. Hating that her heart soared at his confession. That her mind screamed at her to forgive him and tell him that she, too, loved him.

  But she couldn’t. She would not.

  Gently she extracted her arm from his grip and backed away. “Good afternoon.”

  Then she stumbled down the hallway and back to her waiting carriage so she could go home to her father and fix what the man she loved had so foolishly mangled because his own needs so exceeded the promise of their future.

  Evangeline stepped into the house, her head throbbing. As Hughes took her pelisse and gloves, for a moment she considered just running up to her room and hiding in her bed for the rest of her life. Well, perhaps just the afternoon. She didn’t want to face her father when her nerves were so raw. She didn’t want to face anything, including her own heart, which felt like someone had stabbed her. Henry had said he loved her.

  She knew she loved him.

  None of it made her happy. It scared her.

  Her father stepped from the parlor and tilted his head at her. “Evangeline.”

  It seemed there would be no avoiding the mess now. She had to go clean it up. She set her shoulders back and forced a smile on her face as she entered the room and crossed to where her father had had tea delivered probably the moment he came home. From the looks of the open bottle of whisky on the table beside the pot, he had flavored his own cup with something extra.

  She poured for herself and then shook her head as she added her own whisky to the tea and cream and sugar. When she turned, she found her father staring at her.

  “You are very upset,” he said.

  She blinked. She’d spent a lifetime making sure no one ever saw her real emotions so that they could not be touched or used against her. And here, thanks to Henry, she seemed to have lost that ability.

  She sat down and took a sip of her tea. She flinched at the bite of the whisky as it burned down her throat. Now she just had to remember how to be detached.

  “Of course I’m not upset,” she said at last. “That would imply I had far deeper feelings than I do.”

  He took a place beside her on the settee and reached out. When his hand covered hers, she jolted in surprise and jerked her face up to his. The duke was rarely attentive, but he looked truly concerned for her.

  She pulled her hand away. “I swear to you, Father, I am simply frustrated. Like you, I had certain expectations of the agreement I’d made with Henry and I’m not happy he violated those. Especially since you are now saying you will break our engagement two weeks into the reading of the banns.”

  He let out his breath in a huff. “I thought his father was being rather ridiculous about the situation, truthfully. There are plenty of men who have this sort of hobby. The publishing was the troublesome part, but after you wed I was willing to discuss with Henry the idea that he could continue to do his work quietly, anonymously, if he needed to share his ideas for the purpose of…whatever the purpose is of his publishing these long strings of facts and figures.”

  “The purpose is to share scientific knowledge,” she said. “I suppose in the hopes that others could use his brilliance to find the planet they all seek or some other celestial body they have not ever considered.”

  “That is very unselfish,” her father grunted, almost as a curse. “If I were him, I’d want all the accolades in such an endeavor.”

  Evangeline bent her head, for she was certain that was true. But Henry wasn’t like her father. He was giving, both professionally and personally. She had no doubt that if this planet was one day proven by some other person, he would be the first to celebrate that accomplishment.

  And when it came to her…well, he had been very giving, indeed. Physically, certainly, but also in other ways. He’d shared his past with her and his hopes for the future. He’d treated her as his equal. He’d…he’d told her he loved her, and there was no doubt he meant it.

  She drew in a sharp breath. She was finding reasons to convince herself that she could trust him even though he’d gone behind her back.

  “I recognize you’re angry and you have every right to be considering that Henry violated the terms of a very simple agreement.” Of course, she was referring to her own with him, not her father’s. “But to say that you will end the engagement, I must say I think you are cutting off your nose to be revenged of your face.”

  Her father sighed. “You think I’ll be more damaged by the breaking of the engagement.”

  She flinched at his regard only for his own feelings, not her own, but plowed forward to obtain what she wanted. “Yes. We are a week away from completing the reading of the banns and the marriage will occur almost directly after. All of it is utterly public already and much talked about since I waited so long to choose a husband.”

  “That is true. It is not a day that goes by that I do not hear your name on the wind.” He sounded positively proud of that fact, as if he had anything to do with her machinations to marry Henry.

  “Well, you will hear more of it if you do something rash. This time not in a positive light.” She leaned forward to punctuate the seriousness of it all. “If you cut him off, no one will believe it is only for some silly reason like a paper his name was attached to, especially since you knew he’d published another time before our engagement.”

  “They’ll make up their own reasons, ones that would not benefit me,” he mused.

  She nodded. “Any leverage you had in arranging a situation for me would be over, for my social standing will be hurt.”

  He blinked as if he hadn’t considered her in any of this. Not a shock to her, but still a sting. He frowned. “I suppose it would be.”

  “Please do reconsider, Your Grace,” she said. “This is still a good match and the one of my choosing. It links us to the family of your friend, a man of standing and honor.”

  “And what do I tell people when that damned paper circulates at large by sundown?” he asked.

  “Act as though it was your idea, Father,” she encouraged. “Great God, you know that if you act like you’re excited to have Henry do this, you can turn the tide. You could tell them you think he might consider naming any discovered planet after you because of your great patronage. Say that and everyone will decide it is an honor to have a man work on such important business.”

  He wrinkled his brow. “You think he might name the planet Allingham?”

  She almost laughed at that thought. A sky full of gods and her father. But she fought the urge. “I could speak to him about it. But only after I’m his wife.”

  He nodded. “Very well, I’ll consider all you’ve said.”

  She patted his arm, finished her tea and got up to excuse herself, but he caught her hand to keep her there, staring up at her pointedly. “I also think you should take some time for consideration, Evangeline.”

>   “Consideration of what?” she asked.

  “I have never seen your face so pale and pained as I did when you looked at Henry’s work spread out across that desk. When you realized he’d lied about his intentions. And when you came into this room a moment ago, you looked like someone had died. It’s obvious you care for the man.”

  She jerked her hand away and took a step back. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  He held her gaze a beat. Two. “I might have done a disservice to you, allowing you to see the troubles between me and your mother before her death.”

  She flinched. “Don’t be maudlin, Father.”

  He shrugged. “My point is that if you cared for this man, if you loved him, I would never consider breaking you apart. If that gives you some permission to feel as you fear to do.”

  She shut her eyes. Here was her father, giving her some push toward her heart, but he had to use it as a manipulation. And that her feelings had given him ammunition to do so only made her harden herself more.

  “I do not care for Henry Killam beyond a friendship and a desire to marry him for both our benefit,” she lied. “And you will not keep us apart because it serves your purposes more than reacting in a fit of pique would do. Now I shall go upstairs. It’s been a long and difficult morning.”

  She didn’t wait to be excused, but exited the room. It felt like the stairs were so steep as she took them slowly. She stumbled as she reached her door and rushed inside. Thankfully, the chamber was empty. Her hands shook as she staggered to the freshly made bed. She was trying so hard not to cry, trying so hard not to let disappointment make her weak.

  But in the end, her hated emotions bubbled up, and she leaned against the side of the high bed and wept for what she’d somehow been foolish enough to let herself want.

  And for what she felt she’d lost in just a few short moments.

  Chapter 17

  Henry strode across the empty park, oblivious to the sharp chill in the wind and the light flurry of snowflakes around him. Right now he cared not for weather. He really cared for nothing except for the place he was going and the person he was determined to see.

  Evangeline.

  It had been three days since his encounter with her and her father in his home. He had sent a letter each of those days and apologized, trying to explain further what had been in his heart when he helped Donovan.

  But she had not replied and it forced him to sit in what he had done. It wasn’t about the research, of course. Evangeline didn’t care if he invested time in his pursuits, she had encouraged him to do so…the first person in his life to truly support his endeavors.

  He realized that it was the lie that bothered her. The fact that he had promised one thing and done another. He hadn’t considered the full effect it would have on her.

  He hated himself for that. And now he all but sprinted through the park and out into the neighborhood on the opposite side where he hoped he could have an audience with his fiancée and try to tell her he understood her feelings.

  Try to get another chance with her.

  He rapped on the door and Hughes answered. “Good afternoon,” Henry said as his coat was taken. “I am not expected, but I need to see Lady Evangeline. Please tell me she is in residence.”

  Hughes nodded. “I will inquire, Mr. Killam. Will you wait here, or shall I show you to the parlor?”

  Henry knew that if he waited here, he would be less easily ignored. “I’ll stay.”

  Hughes looked slightly annoyed but hurried off to find his mistress. He was gone a while, and when he reemerged, his face was drawn into a frown. “I am sorry, sir. Her ladyship is not here at present.”

  Henry’s heart sank and he bowed his head. “She’s here, isn’t she?” he asked. Hughes didn’t respond. “She doesn’t want to see me.”

  The butler shifted. “She is not available.”

  “Of course she doesn’t want to see you.” Henry turned at the sound of the duke’s voice coming from the parlor just outside of the foyer. He was leaning on the doorjamb, watching Henry carefully. He crooked his finger and motioned him into the room. “Come. We have some things to discuss.”

  Henry glanced toward the longer hall on the opposite side of the foyer. Hughes had come from there. Perhaps Evangeline was down that wing of the house. In her music room or the library.

  He hated that he was so close and yet so far away. But what could he do? He had to respect her desire for distance. To violate it was to be no better than her father or any other man who had proven to her that the male sex was not trustworthy.

  So he followed the duke into the parlor instead and flinched as the man closed the door behind him. “Tea?” Allingham asked, his tone short. “Or perhaps something stronger?”

  “No, nothing,” Henry muttered, moving to stare into the fire.

  The duke was silent a long moment and then he cleared his throat. “Perhaps my daughter has informed you already, but if not, you should know I won’t break your engagement, Mr. Killam. The final set of banns will be read as planned this Sunday and the wedding will happen as scheduled.”

  Henry faced him in surprise. “I see. Thank you, though I wonder if that is wise considering Evangeline will not even see me.”

  Allingham shrugged. “Perhaps, but I do this at her request.”

  “She asked for the marriage to move forward?” He shook his head. He wished that meant something, but she had made it very clear to him that their union would be only one of convenience. If she wished to wed, it was for her original reasons, not because she cared. He had lost that right.

  “I have never seen my daughter so upset,” Allingham continued.

  Henry stared at him. “No?”

  “Never. She does not really let herself care enough about anyone else to give them the power to hurt her like you have.” The duke sighed. “I suppose that is a function of losing her mother at such a vital age. And perhaps of seeing me…” He drew off slowly. “Well, I was not the best of husbands, and my wife suffered for it more than perhaps some might.”

  Henry worried his lip, surprised that Allingham would reveal something so personal. “Evangeline has mentioned her mother before.” Just the once, of course. In anger when she compared him to the man who had let her down all her life.

  “Has she?” Allingham drew back a fraction. “Then she must care for you. She never speaks of her to me or to her siblings.” He sighed. “Honestly, I’m not sure why she’s so upset with you. After all, what you did affects me more than her.”

  Henry flinched. And there it was. Even if the duke had some awareness of his failings when it came to Evangeline, he still didn’t have much empathy for her. He viewed the world in terms of how it touched him, not anyone else. Even Evangeline’s pain could be co-opted.

  It was no wonder she managed everyone in her life so carefully. There had never been anyone in her world who had offered to carry even a portion of the load. No one she could trust enough to set down some of the weight and rest while they took care of her. She was secondary to everyone.

  And suddenly it was very clear what Henry needed to do.

  He pushed to his feet from the settee. “I’m sorry, Your Grace, but I have something I must do.” He dug in his pocket. “Will you see that Evangeline gets today’s letter from me?”

  “She won’t answer,” Allingham said, but he took the folded papers.

  “She doesn’t have to,” Henry said softly. “Good day, Your Grace.”

  He raced from the room, barely hearing Allingham’s farewell and ran for home. He needed a carriage and he needed it now.

  Evangeline stared at a line of spools of ribbon laid out before her in the shop and did not give a damn about any of them. She supposed she should, as they were some of the finishing touches for the gown she would wear for her wedding. And yet she looked at them and none of it mattered.

  “My lady, you must choose one. I rather like the blue,” Tibby said. When Evangeline didn’t respond, she sighed. “
You must speak to the man, you know. It is the only way to end this terrible temper you find yourself in.”

  “I know you’re right,” Evangeline muttered. She had thought of talking to Henry many times since he’d arrived at her door a week before and she refused to see him. It was fear that kept her from seeing him now, not anger.

  She would reveal too much if she saw him. She would say too much.

  “I will take the blue,” she said softly. “Will you let them know?”

  Tibby let out a sigh and then slipped off to find the shopkeeper for the length of ribbon. Evangeline turned, and just as she did, the bell over the door rang and Donovan McGilvery entered the shop. He caught sight of Evangeline and though he looked startled, he made his way to her.

  “Mr. McGilvery, what a surprise,” Evangeline managed to choke out, though she thought of Henry as she looked at him. She resented this man, for it was helping him that had put them all in this position.

  That wasn’t really true, but it helped to think of it that way.

  “Yes, yes,” he said. “I have a sister, you see, and she sent me to pick up some fabric she wanted. A brother’s work is never done.”

  She nodded, somehow managing to retain some normalcy when all she wanted to do was ask after Henry. “Very lucky for her.”

  He shifted a little and picked at the edge of some fabric on the table before them. “Lady Evangeline, I realize it is very forward of me, but I must ask you about Henry.”

  Her lips parted. “Ask me about him? Certainly you have seen him more than I have as of late.”

  He shook his head. “No, I haven’t. About a week ago he came into the society meeting house with all his equipment. He donated everything to us and gave up his membership. He asked that his name be removed from any future publications he had a hand in. Then he walked out. I have not seen him since, despite many attempts to meet with him or reach out to him.”