“She has red hair, she’s beautiful, and she wore a costume quite similar to yours at the ball.”
Everly’s body went rigid. He thought her cousin beautiful?
He’d had no trouble saying as much, yet Everly had been forced to pull teeth to get a response about herself.
She now questioned his every word.
Did he kiss women he found hideous? Likely not, though that didn’t mean he thought her beautiful. Surely, there was an in-between.
Clearly, Everly was there.
Now, she was the one who loathed this conversation.
* * *
Asher had no idea what he’d done to provoke Everly’s anger after the meal, but once they’d left their table to be social—and to ask questions from the women on their list who were present— she’d barely said a word to him.
He’d known using his taste for the list to be a very bad idea. He should have never confessed to thinking her beautiful. He should have refrained from giving any reply and forced them to move on. He was usually better at controlling the path of conversations, yet for some reason, he’d allowed Everly’s logic to make sense to him.
At least the list was finished. It was something they’d never have to discuss again and a paper he’d take great pleasure in burning later on.
A third of the women on their list were present, but Asher didn’t think any of them had stolen the diamonds. There were usually signs when one was low on funds. Gowns would clearly need mending, which would be a sign that one was low on servants. Transportation was another sign. Only one woman present, a Mrs. Traverse, planned to ride the stagecoach in the morning.
The stagecoach was a deplorable conveyance and at times could be dangerous, depending on who rode within. Usually, one did not speak about their finances, but everyone would witness Mrs. Traverse get on the stagecoach in the morning. Therefore, it was better she settle any gossip before it began.
“It’s all I can afford for the moment,” Mrs. Traverse said as she fluttered her fan just under her chin. “My husband took our carriage to Oxford and marrying three daughters in the same year is no easy feat. I told Georgianna she should wait a year, after all, she is only fourteen, but she insisted... as did her husband Lord Holt. Truly, with such a happy match, I’d be glad to ride the stagecoach any day! But it will only be this once, I can assure you.” Miss Traverse was in her forties and quite pretty, but her hair was not the same potent shade of red as Everly’s. She recalled from memory that the daughters in question were also beautiful, though none of them had red hair.
He departed from Mrs. Traverse only to find himself confronted by Miss Abigail Christensen.
He noticed then just how much longing was clearly visible in her young blue eyes. He wondered again what he’d done to encourage such admiration.
“Your Grace.” Her voice was breathy.
“Miss Christensen.”
She offered her hand, and he had no choice but to take it.
“How strange that we are both here this evening.” Her smile grew. “We’ve seen each other two nights in a row now. A third and… well, you know what one says about thirds.”
There were quite a few quotes about ‘thirds’ that floated through his mind but most prominent one was ‘the third time’s a charm.’ If the lady thought this some divine intervention, then he would set her straight.
“My lady.” He took a breath. “I hope I’ve not given you the impression that I seek a bride. I do not.”
Abigail straightened, and her face grew uncommonly pale. Then her gaze narrowed at his chest. “She told you, didn’t she?” Was she speaking to him or herself?
The expression made him hesitant. “If you speak of Lady Wycliff—”
Abigail laughed suddenly, her eyes wide. “I do not. I’m sorry. No.” She frowned in thought. “I…” Then she simply gazed at him before smiling again. “Well, you know what they say about thirds. Good night, Your Grace.” She didn’t allow him to dismiss her.
He would have found her departure rude under other circumstances, but then again, he didn’t blame her for running away.
In London, he was certain that he’d find the answers he sought.
He’d protect Everly and do whatever it took to see her once again well situated in life.
∫ ∫ ∫
1 4
“Explain this to me again,” Asher said the next morning as he glared at his driver.
The man simply shook his head, his expression grave. “I’ve no idea how this came to be or who did it, but we’ll not be able to depart today, Your Grace, I’m sorry.”
Asher looked at his carriage, or at least what was left of it. Wheels had been broken, as though someone had taken an ax to them and their bolts. And not just his, but a few other carriages had been left the same.
There were other lords and ladies standing about, their expressions all grave. Many had planned to depart for the city at first light, but only a few carriages had been left in any shape to leave and many were gone, taking as many passengers with them as possible.
“Who would do this?” Valiant asked aloud. “What would be their purpose?”
“Some people take pleasure in simply destroying the property of others,” one of the other lords answered. “They were likely poor, and they likely had help from some of the servants.”
Asher could hardly think as men shouted at servants who should have been up and paying attention last night and women wept as though the ax had been taken to their bodies and not their property.
Everly didn’t weep. Instead, her eyes roamed the carriages with a calculating mind.
A footman confessed, “There was a fire in the field just hours ago. All of us who were on guard awake went to see to it.”
“A fire?” someone asked.
“This is all inconceivable,” a lady said.
Everly hissed something under her breath.
“What?” Asher asked.
“It was Miss Christensen,” she said, only loud enough for Asher and Valiant to hear. “I told her why you were escorting me to London and she thought to keep us here.”
“Why would she do that?” Valiant asked.
“Because, she’s mad,” Everly said. “Mad for your brother.”
Valiant looked at Asher. “Is this true?”
“An infatuation.” Asher looked at the carriages and then shook his head. “No, I don’t believe her capable of this. It is likely just what the other gentleman said, some senseless villager sought to make us suffer just because he could.”
“No.” Everly’s golden eyes were slits of anger. “It was her!” She pointed to where Abigail stood.
Her carriage had been one of the three to not have a scratch on it. Her friends and their families had all gathered around her, asking for conveyance to London.
Were Everly’s suspicions correct? Asher could not imagine Abigail with an ax in hand, slaughtering all the wheels.
A footman approached Asher. He’d come from Miss Christensen’s side. “Miss Christensen has offered to take you and your family to London.”
“Absolutely not!” Everly answered for them. “You can tell your mistress—”
Asher put a hand on her shoulder. “I believe he was speaking to me.”
Everly’s angry gaze struck him like a mighty blow, but she said nothing.
Valiant said, “Is it not more important that we get to London this day? We don’t have much time.”
Everly held her tongue, but her eyes would not leave Asher’s.
He knew what she wanted him to say.
And he agreed with Valiant. He’d do all he could to protect Everly.
“Lady Wycliff,” he began.
“No,” she said swiftly, knowing his thoughts.
He took her arm and led her away from all ears. “It’s only a few hours. Surely, you will not let pride rule you.”
* * *
Everly wanted to scream but refrained from doing so. This was not a matter of pride, at least, not c
ompletely.
There was a larger matter at hand and though it made no sense, Everly did not want Asher in the same carriage at Miss Christensen. What if the woman got him to be on her side? Where would that leave Everly?
Part of her wondered if Asher’s heart was swaying toward the chit. She’d witnessed their conversation the previous evening, though she had no clue what they’d discussed.
“If you go, I will find another way,” Everly said.
He was surprised. “Lady Wycliff, you’re being dramatic.”
Was she?
It was so very unlike her. What was wrong with her?
“Please, Your Grace.” She touched his arm.
He scrutinized her for a long moment and then sighed. “We’ll have to take the stagecoach if we do not accept. It is likely that all the other working carriages are full.”
The stagecoach? The very idea made Everly shudder and reconsider. But then she straightened her spine. “We’ll survive the stagecoach.”
∫ ∫ ∫
1 5
Asher told the footman to tell his mistress that they’d be taking the stagecoach then went to purchase tickets.
The stagecoach was larger than a carriage, taller and thick. One had already come by, taking those that it could. This one, in particular, was green with beige wooden window trimmings. An iron rail went around the top portion. Footman were hard at work loading the trunks.
Asher waited his turn in the grass. Thankfully, there were other lords in line, which would mean his reputation would not suffer, or anyone else’s of nobility for that matter.
Still, as he stood in line, he couldn’t help but try to understand Everly’s strong objection to departing with Miss Christensen. He understood that she was upset that the woman hadn’t recognized her at the constable’s office, but perhaps this was Miss Christensen’s way of apologizing.
Yet Everly wanted nothing to do with her.
For a moment, Asher allowed his mind to imagine Everly jealous of the woman, but then he chuckled to himself and decided it highly unlikely. She’d not even responded to his kiss and now he was very glad about that. Nothing good could have come from them starting an affair.
He could never simply have an affair with Everly. If he took her, he’d want everything from her. Her body. Her heart. He’d want to possess her.
Marry her.
It was a treacherous thought to have. He’d never marry again. He’d told himself that fact plenty of times over the years. While it made sense for many, Asher was no longer obligated. He had his heir. The Curbain line was secure.
Valiant came to his side. “I arranged for the footmen to meet us in London at their earliest convenience. Wheels should arrive by tomorrow.”
Asher made an effort to pull himself out of his musing. “How are you faring in all this? I know this was not at all the trip you imagined.”
“It’s most interesting.” Valiant smiled. “I’ve not had any fun in nearly a year. This journey is becoming more entertaining than I’d imagined. Lady Everly is currently making sure that Miss Christensen didn’t damage any of her belongings.”
Asher shook his head. “I don’t think she had any part in this.”
“Yet you allowed Everly to sway you from riding with the woman. Why? That’s not like you, Asher.” Valiant watched him closely.
“I decided I would rather not ride in a carriage for hours where the people within did not like one another.”
“Is that all?” Valiant asked.
“That is all.” He bought their tickets and then moved toward the stagecoach. He found Everly digging around the trunk she’d brought along with her. Her lovely backside was pointed in the air, and she turned to throw him a satisfied grin before closing the case. “It’s all here.” Then she straightened and swept her curls from her face. She walked over toward him and Valiant. “I wouldn’t put anything past her.”
Asher sighed. “I need coffee.”
“As do I,” Everly said.
But there’d been no more in the small town that had been overrun by travelers all heading to London.
“I’ve always preferred chocolate,” Valiant said and then she and Everly began a discussion on which drink was better. The women laughed as they discussed flavor and substance.
The two had been friends for years, and Asher couldn’t help but wonder if Everly would have found any satisfaction as his young wife. She adored Valiant and Lore. They’d have been siblings if he’d not denied her father his request.
Of course, it was far more important that in a marriage Everly enjoy him than his brother and sister, and Asher was once again assured that he’d made the right decision.
He’d not loved Mary when they’d wed, but then slowly something had begun to bloom between them. He’d admired her mind and thoughts, and she’d often told him that all she wanted was his happiness.
He recalled her brown eyes and felt himself being drawn into a memory of the day he greatly regretted.
And then suddenly, he was no longer in the carriage. His mind took him to his memory.
It had been raining that afternoon. The air had been cool.
Mary’s eyes held humor as she stood by the window.
Asher’s heart raced, and his fingers bit into his palms as he tried to restrain himself from calling for her.
He had to save her!
“Lady Everly, Lady Valiant. Oh! Lord Ayers. I didn’t see you there,” Miss Christensen called as she approached.
Asher sighed with relief, but a pounding began in his head. He dearly needed coffee.
He watched Valiant exchange greetings with Miss Christensen.
His sister stole the words right out of his lips when she said, “I thought I saw your carriage depart.”
“It did,” she said. “But I lent it to my friends and Lady Campbell. She’s a sweet dear and would never have managed travel on a stagecoach.” She placed a hand against her chest, and Asher wondered if his eyes played tricks with him, but it appeared as though she were running her fingers over the visible skin. Her voice dropped lower. “It was the least I could do.”
Asher returned his gaze to Miss Christensen’s eyes and found her to be grinning up at him.
The pounding began anew.
“That was very kind of you,” he eventually said, truly meaning it.
Miss Christensen blushed.
Asher turned to his sister, who seemed to now be staring at him, Everly, and then Miss Christensen over and over again with confusion. “Let us get on the coach before it leaves.”
“Would you escort me?” Miss Christensen asked, stepping forward.
“The duke has but two arms,” Everly said with a forced smile, grabbing the one that Valiant did not already possess. “But I’m sure we can find a footman who will see to you.” Then she did just that and they all saw Miss Christensen on her way before Everly then turned to Asher. “Are you ready?” A lovely gleam in her eyes weakened him in the knees.
That look said many things and made promises of a sensual nature. There was also trust and tenderness.
She never looked at him that way.
And he immediately knew what was at play.
He turned to Valiant. “I’d like a moment with Lady Wycliff, if you don’t mind.”
His sister grinned, bemused. “I’m sure a footman can help me to my seat.” She left them, and Asher walked him and Everly a short distance before he said, “Whatever game you are intending to play, it ends now. You’ll not stroke the girl’s jealousy by pretending to take a sudden interest in me.” In his current state of mind, he couldn’t deal with this.
Everly stared up at him. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.” He was not.
“No, you don’t look it.” She frowned. “Have I upset you?” Her hand stroked his arm, her expression one of true concern.
It settled him. Soothed him even.
Recently, he’d begun to be haunted by his memories and the deaths of Mary and of his eldest
brother John. Usually, those visions only came at night, but sometimes they snuck up on him during the day.
Though he detested the situation Everly had found herself to be in, he was glad for the distraction and against his better judgment, glad for these few weeks they’d have together. There would never be another chance like this.
“I’m sorry.” She lowered her voice. “But you must understand that I’m not used to depending on others. You can’t imagine my frustration at having to ask your permission for anything. If I wish to go somewhere, I simply do. Now, I am beholden to your good graces.”
He nodded. “I can imagine that would be frustrating for you.”
She looked at the sky and shook her head. “And now, instead of consulting myself in my head, I must consult you aloud.” She laughed as she looked at him again. “I wonder how I’ve not run myself mad by now.”
He smiled.
“How do you tolerate me?” she asked.
He decided not to say he was drawn to her and would suffer far worse than what she was giving him.
She folded her hands before her. “I will… try to adjust to our newfound situation,” she promised. “But, I must confess this situation is not something I long to get used to.”
A sadness crept in her eyes, and Asher had to tell himself that it had nothing to do with him in particular. Everly didn’t wish to ask permission from anyone.
He tried then to imagine what the last few hours had been like for her. Asher had freed her from her confines, had given her a room that was less than ideal, and now he’d given her permission to ride the stagecoach.
Permission.
A man such as himself would find all this very restrictive. “I will try and be more considerate of your wishes.”
She shook her head. “No, you’ve been more than kind and… after yesterday and today, I can firmly state that I would rather it be you here with me than anyone else.”
His heart expanded.
She bit her lower lip and said, “But let us hope that we are never in this particular predicament again.”
“Yes,” he agreed. He never wished to see her in danger again.
The Perfect Duke (Valiant Love) (A Regency Romance Book) Page 7