by Gill, Tamara
Capell glanced at him. “You like her in a romantic sense? You’ve never said so before.”
“Not to you,” he quipped, taking a sip of his drink. “There is something about her that I like and cannot shake. No matter how much I try to dismiss the idea, whenever I see her I’m right back there again, admiring her intelligence and easy manners. Wondering what a future would be like with her at my side.” He chuckled at his own nonsense. “I apologize for my less-than-stimulating conversation.”
Capell chuckled. “Never mind that. This conversation is indeed interesting, but even if Miss Evans is the Duchess of Whitstone’s favorite friend, not even that will make her suitable for your family, Duncannon. You ought to look elsewhere for a bride.”
The idea of doing such a thing irked, but it was what his family would want. “I know, but putting my family and their ingrained prejudices aside, she wants very little to do with me in any case. We get along well enough, and she’s friendly when we’re in the same social circle, but she is also distant.” He didn’t elaborate as to why that was so. His sleeping with her and then running off the next morning, or so she thought, was reason enough.
Capell clapped him on the shoulder. “Maybe, and I say this with the upmost respect to you, and our friendship, but maybe she doesn’t see you in a romantic light. Even so, surely you’re not looking to marry. We’re not nine and twenty yet.”
The idea of Hallie marrying someone else, of being with her husband alone and behind closed bedroom doors made his blood run cold. He hated the idea of her being with anyone else other than him, and so if he had to marry her to keep her for himself, he would.
Arthur digested that way of thinking for a moment.
Marriage.
“You may be right.” He glanced in her direction and caught her looking his way. His gaze hungrily took in her emerald silk gown and transparent tulle. Damn it she was beautiful, and that she was totally oblivious to the fact made her doubly so.
“Her little group of admirers seem to be moving on. If you wanted a chance to speak to her, may I suggest you go now.”
Duncannon stepped toward her only to halt halfway when the gentleman who’d sat next to her at dinner came to her side and caught her attention. Arthur looked about for the footman carrying wine. He’d give her a moment with the gentleman and then he would talk to her. See if there was some way in which to create a comradeship with her that in time, he hoped would lead to more.
Perhaps even the state that in the past made him shudder in revulsion.
The marriage state.
Chapter 7
Robert sidled up next to Miss Evans and bestowed on her the best gentlemanly smile he could muster before the murdering wench. She inspected him, her gaze wary and he hoped he hadn’t put her off at dinner when he spoke of the weather and the latest on dit floating around London. He didn’t know really what one ought to talk about at these events, and certainly he did not want to talk to her at all if he could help it, but he did need to let her know that perhaps he knew more of her than she would like.
After all, his time here in Somerset was solely due to bring this bitch down and hurt the Duchess of Whitstone in turn through their friendship. To see both women fall from grace would be sweet indeed and his cousin would be pleased he’d accomplished revenge on them.
“Such a lovely party, do you not agree?” he asked, taking a glass of ratafia from a passing footman and taking a small sip of the sweet beverage. He caught Viscount Duncannon watching them with interest and he narrowed his eyes, making a mental note to be wary of the man. He did not need him sticking his nose in his business and halting his plan of bringing down the woman beside him.
“It certainly is,” she replied, nothing more forthcoming.
A small smiled played about her sweet mouth as she took in the guests around them and he wondered if he could have a little fun with this woman before he brought her low. The idea of her mouth on him was not unpleasant and it would hurt her more should he play with her emotions a little before ripping away that footing from beneath her feet.
He leaned in toward her, closer than one ought. “Do you not ever wonder what secrets the guests at such events are hiding?” He took a sip of his drink, inwardly laughing as she stilled beside him. “Shall we guess as to what each guest may be keeping hidden? Secret lovers. Financial ruin. What else do you think we should include on our list, Miss Evans?”
“I should not know, Mr. Stewart. I’ve never taken the time to think about such things.”
He met her gaze and did not miss the small flare of fear that entered her eyes. “Have you not?” he said, sighing for good measure. “Well, we shall have to think upon it I dare say. Do let me know if you come up with anything else. We shall make it our little game while we’re here at Baron Bankes’s estate. What say you?”
Miss Evans paled and Robert fought to keep a straight face. Oh, how delicious it was to torment her. She had supported and helped the duchess work out who was behind all the fires in Berkshire. Watched as his cousin died in her friend’s home and did nothing to try and save him. He would bring this woman down, and through her the Duchess of Whitstone would be injured.
A young woman sat at the pianoforte and started to play a country jig. Robert held out his hand to Miss Evans. “Shall we dance? It looks like some of the other guests are partaking in the impromptu event.”
She looked at his hand as if it were a snake, but shook her head, placing down her glass of champagne. “I’m sorry, no. I’m feeling unwell and will retire. Goodnight.”
“Oh, I do hope you’re feeling better soon, Miss Evans,” he called after her as she fled. “Maybe tomorrow night we shall continue our little game. I will ensure the baron invites you to dine with us again.”
She threw him a wobbly smile over her shoulder, but he could see the fear lurking in her dark, green orbs. “Goodnight, Mr. Stewart.”
He bowed. “Goodnight, Miss Evans.” And sweet, untroubled dreams, my dear…
Hallie swallowed the bile that rose in her throat as she walked from the room, trying not to bring attention to herself. What Mr. Stewart had said had been so shocking and unexpected that it left her with little choice but to leave. To play a game, to question her on her thoughts on what others present may have hidden in their pasts made her question his motives. He was too bold, too amused by his game, for there not to be a nefarious reason he wanted to know.
Did he know of Omar? Had he learned of her child?
She fisted her hands at her sides to stop their shaking and as unhurried as she could, made her way back to her room. She would have to apologize to Baron Bankes tomorrow for her departure without saying a word, but not for a moment longer could she stay.
Hallie started to pull off the silk gloves Willow had lent her as she started down the long corridor to her room. Why would Mr. Stewart want to play such a game with her at all? His words told of someone trying to find out more information, and in this case, about her.
“Miss Evans,” a voice called from behind.
Hallie shut her eyes at the sound of Lord Duncannon. Great, all she needed was for him to see and recognize her upset. He was too familiar with her, and able to read her like a book. She turned, attempted a look of pleasant interest that felt tight and unnatural to hold.
“Lord Duncannon,” she answered, smiling a little. “Can I help you with anything?”
He stopped before her, his brow furrowed in concern. She considered him a moment, the sheer attractiveness that one man could possess didn’t seem very fair in her estimation. Omar had been beautiful, dark-skinned, and his eyes the deepest brown with lashes that went on for days. Lord Duncannon was the opposite. His skin was fair, his eyes as blue as the ocean on a stormy day, his hair sun kissed and the color of wheat in the summer’s sun.
She clutched at the gloves in her hand, aware that she’d started to undress before she’d made her room.
“Please do beg my pardon, but I could not help but notice you
looked distressed when speaking to Mr. Stewart. You would let me know if he has insulted you in any way.”
She nodded, swallowing the fear that the mention of the man brought forth in her. He had to know something, which made her wonder what was he going to do with that information and when.
“A sudden headache, my lord. Nothing more. I thank you for your concern.”
He studied her a moment, his inspection thorough and a little skeptical. Hallie pasted on a smile, aware that if he were looking closely enough he would have seen through her like a pane of glass.
“If you’re sure, Miss Evans.” He frowned, seemingly fighting for the right words to say, or to ask if she were being truthful. “I will have a tisane brought up to you at once and a warming pan. The air is cold this evening.”
She nodded, thankful for his kindness. After he’d left her in Felday, she had not thought he’d been capable of such emotion, but here he was, trying to comfort her without really knowing why. Hallie took in his finery, his strong jaw and aristocratic nose that could look down on people if he so chose. One thing he’d never done with her thankfully. Maybe he really had changed, or at least was trying to right the wrong he’d done to her all those years ago.
“I thank you,” she said.
He nodded, stepping back. “Goodnight.” Hallie watched him go, her mind whirring with what she should do. Not just about Mr. Stewart, but Lord Duncannon as well. Her secret was so very devastating, and there was a good chance that should anyone find out about her child she would never be offered the type of work she was now doing. To work in a great house as a lady’s maid or a general housemaid could even prove difficult. No one liked to hire women who had not comported themselves in the manner in which was expected of them. Lord Duncannon may not look down on her now, but he would if he knew the truth. As much as she hoped that were not so, that he was honorable deep in his core, the fear that he too would turn against her would not shift.
She rubbed her brow, hopelessness swamping her. She could not let Mr. Stewart threaten her in such a way. Nor should she panic just yet. His game could have been just that, a silly little game that had hit home closer than he may know. For all she knew, the gentleman may not know anything at all.
Hallie opened her bedroom door and sank onto one of the leather chairs before the hearth. Tomorrow she would keep her wits about her, but carry on as if nothing had rattled her the night before. She would head up to the dig site at seven and continue her work and tomorrow evening she would attend dinner if she was invited and not scuttle off like a frightened bird before a cat.
Her future and that of her son’s depended on her keeping a cool head and she would not fail him in this.
Chapter 8
The following day dawned with stormy, gray clouds and rain showers crossing the land. Hallie had fortunately made the excavation site before the first heavy shower passed over, and now with the ground damp, she helped the stable hands dig the last of the trench.
The hollow thud of horse’s hooves on turf sounded and she turned to see Lord Duncannon pulling up a magnificent chestnut mount, his nose breathing out steam on the cool day and stomping one front hoof in protest at being halted on his morning run.
His lordship jumped off with little trouble and she admired the fact that he seemed so very good and accomplished at everything he did. His capable hands tied his mount to a nearby tree and he strolled toward her, his greatcoat billowing out from behind him like a cloak.
She glanced away, heat prickling her skin. Why she had this reaction with the gentleman every time she saw him was becoming exasperating. So what if he were the handsomest man she’d beheld in England? That did not mean she had to act or be silly over the notion. Nor did his being here mean that he was looking at her in any way romantic. He was, after all, the benefactor to the London Museum. If he did not take an interest in archaeological digs about England and abroad there would be something wrong.
“Lord Duncannon,” she said, stepping out of the trench and walking over to him. “What brings you here today?”
He smiled down at her, pulling off his gloves. “I’ve come to help again of course.” He strolled over to the tent and picked up the small trowel he was using the other day. “As I said before, I’d much prefer to be here than at the house party. They’re playing charades and I do not feel like trying to figure out what or who people are. I’d much prefer to be here. With you,” he added, his face serious all of a sudden.
Hallie reached out and pulled him to the side of the tent and out of vision from her workers. “My lord, I’m not certain why you’re so very fascinated with the history of Baron Bankes’s estate all of a sudden, but I must ensure that it’s not because of me that you’re here. We’ve known each other for some years, and well enough for me to speak plainly I think.”
He raised his brow, crossing his arms over his chest. The action brought her vision to that part of his body. Her memory of their one night together many years before and what he felt like under her touch. Dear lord in heaven, she was going to hell.
“Do go on. I think I shall like to hear this opinion of yours.”
She checked that the other men were out of hearing, all four of them still busy digging the trench. “What happened in Surrey will not happen again here if that is what you’re hoping. Our night was a mistake. One that I regret and I hope you did not follow me here to Somerset in the hopes of having a bit of skirt to enjoy during the month-long house party.”
A muscle twitched at his temple as he stared at her. “Is that what you think of me? That I’m only here to have you in my bed again.”
The mention of being so once more sent an ache to settle deep in her core. She clutched her stomach, shaking her head, wishing that her body did not inwardly scream “yes” at the mention of exactly that. “I hope it is not. I was not myself that night and should never have propositioned you as I did. As you are well aware, I did not think we would see each other again. Certainly, I did not think that we would have friends in common.”
He reached out, patting her shoulder and she narrowed her eyes. Disliking the condescending action. “Never fear, Hallie. I’m not here to seduce you, as much as I enjoyed our coming together the first time. No, I’m here to help as your friend and that is all. Your virtue is safe with me.”
She studied him a moment hoping that were true, before walking back toward the trench. He was a complication she did not need, nor did she need him finding out she’d birthed a child by another man after being with him. He would think her a common whore who gave out her favors to anyone who passed her by. And that was not the truth.
Shame washed over her that she’d succumbed to his charm, good looks and too much wine that night in Surrey. That she had allowed herself to forget all her troubles and just give over to pleasure and passion to a man she thought never to see again. A reckless mistake she had regretted ever since.
Hallie rubbed the back of her neck, feeling his gaze upon her as she made her way back over to the workmen. Lord Duncannon followed her and soon was working near where he had found the remnants of a wine barrel the day before last. Every so often she caught herself watching him, his little nuances like how he bit his lip when he was trying to be careful, or how a slip of hair kept falling over one of his eyes giving him a rakish appearance.
She snorted. Like he needed to look any more rakish. The man was a veritable sex god on mortal legs. That she knew just how godlike he could be in the heat of passion did not help either. Of how soft that hair was as he kissed her down her stomach, her hands clasping those golden locks as he dipped farther on her body.
Hallie pushed her shovel into the dirt with more gusto than was necessary. She was not attracted or interested in him in such a way. Not anymore.
Now she just had to convince her body of the fact.
Arthur could feel Hallie watching him. He’d be a liar if did not admit to liking having her eyes on him, watching him when she did not think anyone would notice. Today was
the first time in years that they had broached the subject of their indiscretion in Surrey. He wasn’t sure how it happened, and he supposed part of it was because she’d been so terribly sad when sitting next to him in the house that night. She’d just buried her father and he’d wanted to comfort her.
That comfort had spiralled into a hot and desperate coming together that had rattled him to the core. He’d left her bed early the next morning, walked to the inn to organize a carriage and had been practically abducted by his idiot friends.
It was any wonder she loathed him so much and did not offer the hand of friendship. He could not blame her, but he could try and change her mind about him. Tell her the truth.
He dug into the soil, looking out for anything that may surface and require delicate handling. Similar to Hallie, he would have to tread carefully around her. Earn her trust and see if they could move forward as friends and then possibly more.
His family would not like it, but then he wasn’t controlled by them. From the moment he’d sat down in her small parlor in Felday he had felt a connection to her that he’d never felt with anyone else. An emotion he could not explain, and he knew, to his very core, that if he did not court her and see if what he hoped could be the start of something great, he’d regret it for the rest of his life.
His friends’ actions and Hallie with her leaving had put paid to that idea. He shook his head. Hating the fact that they had missed an opportunity that may have been everlasting.
Hallie gasped and Arthur scrambled over to where she was digging. She started to remove more soil from the area she was excavating, taking her time to be careful. “Have you found something?”
