THE TREVORS: BOOKS I - IV

by Quinn, Ella

  As Markville knew would occur, the moment he returned Euphrosyne to her sister-in-law, gentlemen, young and old, began vying for a set with her.

  He sidled up to her brother. “May I come to see you tomorrow? There is something I’d like to discuss. Lady Euphrosyne would like to be there as well.”

  The man glanced at Euphrosyne then nodded. “Is eight too early for you?”

  “Not at all.” Although it was a strange hour to have a meeting. Unable to remain and watch as most of the gentlemen in Bath attempted to flirt with his betrothed, jaw clenched, he strolled away as unconcernedly as possible.

  Several moments later, he came across Paulet, who appeared to have the same idea as Markville about getting away from the frustration of having to watch their women dance with others. “Most of them are a bunch of worthless fribbles, although harmless,” Markville said. “Hawksworth will take care of any problems. I’m off to find something to drink and the card room.”

  Paulet nodded, but his gaze remained riveted on Euphrosyne’s family.

  “Care to come with me?” Markville asked.

  Finally he dragged his eyes from Lady Laia. “You’re out of luck. Tea is not for more than another hour, and there is nothing else on the premises.”

  “It’s as bad as Almack’s.”

  If this were a private ball, Markville might be able to steal Euphrosyne away for a bit.

  “I don’t think the bread will be stale, and at least the tea is not weak. Or so I have been told.”

  “That’s something, at any rate.” Markham’s attention was drawn to Euphrosyne being led to the dance floor by a young man. This was going to be a very long night. “Still, there ought to be a place a gentleman can hide.”

  “Oh, there’s a card room.” Paulet barked a laugh. “It will not be what you are used to.”

  “No matter. I find I must do something to while away the time.” And not watch his love with other men.

  Paulet raised a brow. “Is it that serious with you?”

  For a second, Markville considered revealing that he had written the duke, but he did not want Paulet to say anything to Hawksworth until Markville had a chance to speak with the man. “I have hopes in that direction.” From the corner of his eye, he saw her dancing. Thank God the balls ended early in Bath. “I’m for the card room.”

  Paulet chuckled. “I believe I’ll join you.”

  Well, they made a fine pair. “I’m happy to have the company.”

  Not being a gambler, Markville was glad to find the stakes weren’t high, but the game was interesting enough to keep him occupied until he could be with Euphrosyne again. When he found his way back to her, she was surrounded by a cadre of hopeful-looking gentlemen.

  “My lady.” He bowed. “I believe this is our dance.”

  Euphrosyne’s polite smile broadened into a real one—or at least he thought it did—and she curtseyed. “You are correct, my lord.”

  Fortunately, the country dance enabled him to spend more time touching her. It wasn’t as satisfying as a waltz, but it soothed his ragged nerves. He had to marry her soon.

  The following morning, Markville arrived promptly at Hawksworth’s residence and was escorted to the breakfast room where he, his wife, and Euphrosyne were drinking tea as racks of toast were set on the table. The sideboard was laden with dishes.

  “The Marquis of Markville,” the butler announced.

  “Markville, well met.” Hawksworth inclined his head.

  “We shall want more tea,” his wife said, coming to greet Markville. “Please help yourself if you have not already broken your fast.”

  “Thank you, but I ate a while ago.” In fact, he’d been up for hours. “A cup of tea would be welcome.”

  Euphrosyne grinned and indicated the chair next to hers. Hawksworth sat at the head of the table, his wife on the side opposite Euphrosyne. By the time they had discussed the weather, the tea arrived. Lady Hawksworth dismissed the footmen and poured.

  “I cannot remain long,” Euphrosyne said. “The rooms are already filling with flowers, and Laia will want me there to open the cards with her.” She touched his arm. “Yours were the most beautiful. Thank you.”

  “It was completely my pleasure.” Once they were properly betrothed to be married, he could give her pearls and precious gems.

  Hawksworth drained his cup and held it out to be refilled. “I take it you wish to discuss marrying my sister?”

  Markville placed his cup on the table and took Euphrosyne’s hand. “Yes. I wish to wed Euphrosyne, and she returns my regard. I have written to your father, but I am not sure that I will receive the response we want.”

  “We rarely get what we want from him.” Hawksworth rubbed a hand over his forehead. “My advice to you is to take her to Scotland.”

  Euphrosyne’s fork clattered to the dish.

  That was the last thing Markville thought he’d hear. That her brother would suggest such a thing was shocking. “That would be—”

  Hawksworth held up his hand. “I know, but unless you have something he values—property bordering one of the Somerset estates to be precise—the chances of your suit being accepted are slim.”

  “Are you positive?” Euphrosyne asked.

  Hawksworth nodded. “I am.”

  The only land in Markville’s family that met that criteria now belonged to his sister’s husband and was now entailed. “I have nothing.”

  “Surely Sarah and Jeremy would accompany you,” Lady Hawksworth added. “You can avoid some of the scandal by being chaperoned.”

  Euphrosyne glanced at Markville, a frown on her beautiful face.

  “Sarah already offered.” He had seen how the ton treated couples who eloped, and it wasn’t with kindness. “I cannot do anything that would harm Euphrosyne’s reputation.”

  “In that case”—Hawksworth rose—“you must excuse me. I have some pressing business. I wish you luck, but cannot help you. Let us know if you change your mind. My sister will be in Bath until Laia’s wedding. After that, I don’t know what will happen.”

  “Thank you.” After kissing Euphrosyne’s hand, Markville stood and bowed. “Make no mistake, I fully intend to wed Euphrosyne. However, I hope such drastic measures will not be needed.”

  Lady Hawksworth gave him a doubtful look, and Euphrosyne appeared worried. “Yet, if it does come to that, I will do as you suggest.”

  “We have taken you aback, but do not underestimate the duke,” Lady Hawksworth said. “He cares nothing about the feelings of his children. And he will use any method to get his way.”

  “Thank you, again.” He inclined his head. “But I must attempt gain her hand in an honorable fashion.”

  Markville only prayed he was doing the right thing by not immediately fleeing with Euphrosyne.

  * * *

  Euphrosyne watched her Charles leave the room with her brother. “I did not know my situation was so dire that you and Hawksworth would counsel us to elope.”

  “I wish I could give you more hope of being able to wed Markville honorably.” Meg handed Euphrosyne a plate of toast. “On the other hand, I do understand why he feels he must make the effort. Perhaps we could plan for you to leave directly after your sister’s wedding if your father will not accept Markville’s proposal.”

  That was an excellent suggestion. If she and her sister-in-law made the plans, then Charles would be certain to agree if Father refused to accept the match. “We would have to involve Sarah and her husband.”

  Meg spread marmalade on a piece of toast. “Do you think she would keep it a secret from Markville?”

  Euphrosyne did not want to start her marriage with Charles keeping secrets. “I would not ask it of her. As I think of it, I’d tell him that if my father has not answered by the wedding or refuses his consent, we shall elope.”

  Her sister-in-law nodded distractedly. “My suggestion would be to sail to Scotland. Your father will expect you to travel by coach. As long as the wind is in the right q
uarter, a ship is faster.”

  “Thank you. I must return home. Mama and Laia will be up soon.”

  “We shall see you later today.”

  Euphrosyne was finishing a soft boiled egg and her third piece of toast when her mother entered the breakfast room. “Good morning, Mama. Laia is not yet up?”

  “Good morning. Let her sleep a little longer.” As she went to her seat, the butler brought a pot of hot chocolate. “Have you had a chance to see all the flowers?”

  “I looked at them earlier. I never expected to receive so many.” She had not expected them even from Charles.

  By the time she and her mother had finished eating, and she’d had an opportunity to read some of the poems sent along with the flowers, she decided to fetch her sister. Laia should at least see the bouquet Mr. Paulet had sent. Perhaps they would all elope.

  Smiling brightly, Euphrosyne opened the door to her sister’s bedchamber. “Laia, you would not believe the number of bouquets in the parlor and drawing room.”

  She blinked then pushed herself up onto one arm. “Bouquets?”

  Euphrosyne perched on the bed. “Yes, and poetry. We have each received about the same number.” She grimaced when she thought of some of it. “All of it horrible drivel, but just think of a gentleman making the gesture. They have been arriving for hours.”

  Glancing at the window, Laia frowned. “What time is it?”

  “Almost nine. Breakfast is being brought up to you, so you must rise now.”

  “Yes, of course. Why didn’t my maid wake me?”

  “Mama said to let you sleep.” Euphrosyne left the bed and headed to the door. “She also said we are to expect visits from the gentlemen later today during her visiting hours.”

  Laia groaned. “I should have stayed in bed.”

  “You are still in bed.” Euphrosyne had never seen her sister so attached to her bed. “Mama expects you in the morning room in an hour.”

  “An hour?” Her sister collapsed back against her pillows.

  “Yes, and you will want to see the flowers and read some of the poetry.” It suddenly occurred to her that Charles would be one of the gentlemen paying a call.

  She went to the music room and began to practice some new duets she hoped to be able to sing with him. An hour later, she decided to fetch the flowers he’d brought and take them to her bedroom. Laia was in the drawing room standing next to the bouquet Mr. Paulet had sent, staring at a card.

  Had she fallen in love with the gentleman? Mayhap if Euphrosyne told her sister about Markville, it would encourage her to choose Paulet. “Markham has already written Father asking permission to marry me.”

  Her sister’s jaw dropped. “That is wonderful.”

  “Neither of us thinks he will allow us to wed.” Despite what she’d told Charles, she couldn’t keep what might happen from Laia. “We might go to Scotland instead.”

  “Scotland?”

  Straightening, Euphrosyne gave a short nod.

  “You would risk a scandal?”

  Perhaps it wouldn’t be quite that bad. “We would be chaperoned by Sarah and Jeremy.”

  Laia dropped into a chair as if stunned. “But what about our sisters?”

  Hawksworth and Meg had confirmed that the duke cared nothing about her or her sisters. It was time Laia heard the truth. “Father is never going to allow any of us to marry for love. What we do will not change how he treats our younger sisters. How could he be harsher than he already is? We cannot go into the town alone. We cannot walk outside of the garden by ourselves. Even when we are in the gardens, we are watched.” Euphrosyne took Laia’s hands in hers. “If I could trust he would pick a man different from himself and my life would change for the better by marrying whom he chooses, I would. But, I cannot, and neither can you. All you will do is sacrifice yourself for nothing.”

  She locked gazes with her sister. Finally, Laia gently squeezed Euphrosyne’s hands. “You must follow your own road, as I shall follow mine.” Her sister gave a travesty of a smile. “Wherever that leads me.”

  That afternoon, Euphrosyne experienced her first morning visits. Even her mother, however, couldn’t tell her why morning visits took place in early afternoon. As Euphrosyne had been told to expect, all the single gentlemen who had danced with her at the ball appeared at one point or another. Yet, the only man she wished to see was Charles. His eyes touched her as he lounged against the fireplace mantle while she put off a young man who wanted to go walking with her. Mr. Paulet came as well, and the smile he shared with her sister made Euphrosyne hope he was making progress with Laia.

  A few days later, Euphrosyne and her family, except for her mother, attended the Illumination that transformed Sydney Gardens.

  Thousands of lights lit temporary buildings, and fireworks were to be held later. “Is Vauxhall like this?” she asked Charles.

  “Something in the same vein. At Vauxhall, there is a building for dancing.” They secluded themselves under the branches of a large tree, and Charles took the opportunity to draw her into his arms. “I shall take you, and you will decide.”

  “I wish I could dance with you now.” She wished they could find a place to be alone where they would not be interrupted or be discovered and create a scandal.

  He pressed his lips against hers and smiled. “I received a letter from your father as I was dressing this evening. He says he will meet with me during your sister’s wedding breakfast.”

  On the day after the ball, Laia and Mr. Paulet had—to Euphrosyne’s utter shock—become engaged. “Does that mean my father knows she is not going to wed Bolton?”

  Charles’s brows lowered. “That is a very good question, and one to which I do not know the answer. I shall speak with Paulet. Your father might still be expecting her to wed the duke.”

  But the next day, while Laia, Hawksworth, and Mr. Paulet were visiting the property that was to have been turned over to Somerset upon Laia’s marriage to the duke, the Duke of Bolton attempted to murder Laia, and Hawksworth killed him. Making Mr. Paulet the new Duke of Bolton.

  Chapter 8

  “But what does all of this mean for us?” Euphrosyne asked.

  Markville wished he knew the answer. They had gathered at Hawksworth’s house with her sister, the new Duke of Bolton, Hawksworth, and Meg—as Markville had been asked to call her—several days after the inquest finding that Bolton died accidently from a fall. No one wanted the scandal that would have occurred with any other result.

  “I wish I could tell you,” Paulet replied. “I had to write Somerset and tell him that the property my uncle promised was entailed.”

  “It is a shame your uncle did not allow you to have anything to do with the dukedom.” Meg rubbed her forehead. “That is not going to make Somerset happy. Have you heard yet whether or not he will agree to your wedding?”

  “Catherine”—meaning the Euphrosyne’s mother—“wrote telling him that Bolton had kindly agreed to honor the betrothal, and Somerset agreed to it,” Hawksworth said. “But that was before he discovered the land was entailed.”

  Laia—Markville had also been invited to call her by her first name—glanced at each of them. “What is the length of time one must mourn an uncle?”

  “It varies from three weeks to three months, depending upon one’s relations with the uncle.” Meg glanced at Bolton. “However, I do not see why you could not be married during that time if it is a quiet ceremony attended only by family and close friends.”

  “In that case,” Laia said, “I suggest we plan to wed in three weeks.” She raised one brow. “No matter what my father says.”

  After she had discovered that the old Duke of Bolton had murdered his last three wives, she had lost all sense to duty toward her father.

  Euphrosyne sighed. “Markville, you have not heard anything further from him?”

  She knew he had not. He would have told her. “Unfortunately, no.”

  “I realize you wish to meet with him,” Hawksworth said. “But I
propose you make plans to take Euphrosyne to Scotland directly after the wedding ceremony. Especially after he was informed the old duke had planned to cheat him and he can no longer have the property he planned to acquire for Laia’s marriage. The chances he will allow Euphrosyne to marry without it benefiting the dukedom are slim.”

  Laia looked at Bolton, and he nodded. “We shall accompany you.”

  “That way I can make the arrangements, and no one will be the wiser.”

  “Do you have an objection?” Euphrosyne’s eyes searched Markville’s.

  He had many, but none of them were as important as spending his life with her. “Not at all.”

  The morning after Bolton’s mother arrived at Roselands, Meg caught up with Euphrosyne as she was going to her bedchamber. “I found the most delightful folly when I was out walking yesterday.”

  Euphrosyne had either walked or ridden over most of the property, but that had escaped her. “Where it is?”

  “To the south. If you go through the garden, there is a gate to a path that goes along the river. Not more than ten minutes will bring you to a bridge over the river, and just on the other side is a cottage nestled in a glade. It reminds me of something out of a fairy tale.”

  That was strange. She was certain she had been told that . . . “Are you sure it doesn’t belong to the neighboring estate?”

  “Quite sure. I looked at the estate map when I returned.” They had reached the corridor where their rooms were located. “Hawksworth and Bolton are coming here this morning to review something about the settlements with one of your father’s solicitors. Markville will accompany them. While they are busy, you and Markville should go see the folly. It’s magical.”

  That would at least give Euphrosyne and Charles some time alone while the others attended to wedding business. “What a wonderful idea. Thank you.”

  “They should be here anytime.” Her sister-in-law grinned, probably because she would see her husband soon. “I’ll see you later.”

  Euphrosyne changed into a walking gown and waited until she heard the sound of carriages coming up the drive. Her sister and sister-in-law were entering the hall from the back of the house as Euphrosyne came down the stairs. She joined them, and the three went outside to greet the men. Soon they were heading toward the morning room.