Asher knew what they were trying to do if their glances between Everly and himself were any indication.
Everly must have noticed them as well, because she’d had her trunks packed within an hour and was gone.
Asher had forbidden himself from feeling any sort of way about her absence in his home, but that hadn’t stopped him from thinking about her entirely.
And how could he forget that she was the reason he’d be leaving his home at all in a few hours?
The only thought that lightened his mood was that she would be attending the same party tonight.
He smiled.
“What’s that look about?” Lore asked. “Excited to see a meeker Everly are you? God clearly heard my prayer. It’s astonishing that I would have a boy and a girl. I almost hate that I’ll be missing most of the fun, but being a father is no easy feat. No, my place is here with my family. I’ll simply have to wait for the stories to fill the gossip rags.”
“Are you quite through yet?” Asher asked.
“Are you quite through pretending that you are a god who is above sharing his feelings with his family?”
Asher looked at him. “I don’t think I’m a god.”
Lore gasped with such drama. “Blasphemy.”
Asher rolled his eyes.
“Just admit it aloud,” Lore pressed. “You have affection for Everly. And why wouldn’t you? She’s a beautiful woman. Not as stunning or as strong as the mother of my children, but pretty nonetheless. Say it. Be a man and say it.”
Asher stared at him as the servants moved about them between his bedchamber and closet. “If I say yes will you leave me be?”
“Never,” Lore said. “I’ll never leave you be. You’re my brother. I was born to annoy you.”
Asher tried to fight the warmth that spread through his chest, especially when it became unbearable.
“Come now,” Lore said. “I’ll have an answer from you.”
He saw no reason to make a confession that would be moot in the end. No matter his feelings for Everly, she was out of his reach. “I have no idea how to be a reveler,” Asher said instead. “This is a complete waste of time.”
Lore stroked his jaw in thought. “Perhaps, what you need is someone to show you the way. Usually, revelers move together anyway. Naturally, under different circumstances, it would have been me, but I’m sure I can find you another. In fact...” Lore stood and grinned. “It’s always a pleasure to be needed by you.”
Asher watched him walk to the door. “What friend of yours do you have in mind for this?”
Lore chuckled at the doorway. “As if you don’t know.” Then he was gone.
Asher feared he did know and while he wanted to call Lore back, he knew it was for the best.
He’d made a promise and a Curbain never broke a promise.
He stood and moved to his closet. After the twins were born and Everly had left, his family had inquired about the cut on his lip. He said he’d walked into a door, which had made everyone laugh.
Though he’d attend the party... and try to make merry, he planned to avoid Everly, not because of anything she’d done, but because of himself.
It seemed he was unable to control himself whenever she was near and if he didn’t wish to embarrass himself, he would have to keep a certain amount of distance between them.
* * *
Lady Preshea’s eyes spoke before she said a word with her lips, which was good since Everly could barely hear her when she did speak. “Everly. Why, you look as though you just made your first bow to the queen.”
Everly lifted a brow, but then quickly cooled her features and put on her best and most innocent smile. “Thank you for your kind words.”
Preshea grunted. “Were they kind? Why are you dressed as you are? It looks like something you may have worn at fifteen.”
“I was twenty when I last wore this dress.” Everly’s maid had brought it up to fashionable standards after finding it in an old trunk in her attic. It was pristinely white muslin with lace and frills and enough ribbons to mistake her for a maypole.
It was the last thing Everly would have ever chosen to wear. No one would take her seriously in such a gown. She could barely take herself seriously.
But, of course, that was the point, was it not?
Everly was pushed once or twice in the back by those who tried to crowd in still. How they found the room to do so she didn’t know.
Preshea’s party was well underway and there had to be at least two hundred here already. They filled every room from wall to wall. They even occupied the stairs.
Her townhouse was lit dimly, causing Everly’s other senses to heighten. She could smell the candle wax and floral perfumes. There was a violinist playing from somewhere in the thickening crowd and every so often, Everly could feel eyes upon her.
A few ladies and gentlemen had glanced and then a moment later looked at her again, likely thinking their minds to be playing a terrible trick on them.
Sadly, it was not so.
“I thought you would encourage the duke to come,” Preshea said.
“Ayers is not here?” Everly asked. She’d expected the duke to be one of the first to arrive. He was usually very on time. Everly herself had arrived later than she’d planned, though much earlier than she usually would.
“He is not here,” Preshea said with what seemed like disappointment.
Everly frowned. Had Ayers backed out of their bet? She dearly hoped he would. Then she could go home and burn the dress she was wearing. The thought of cutting it up into little pieces put a smile on her lips.
“Lady Wycliff,” Lord Donovan said as he approached. His eyes were known to leer, but with Everly’s high-collared gown there would be none of that tonight.
That made her smile grow even more.
“My lord.” She curtsied. Aside from his wandering eyes, Lord Donovan was one of the few men who truly respected her intellect. He’d asked for Everly’s hand on more occasions than Everly had fingers to count.
“What say you about this war with India?” Donovan asked. “I say we bring our young men home and stop all this nonsense.”
The British were in constant conflict with India, but Everly believed the war would all be coming to an end soon.
“Actually…” She paused and then remembered her role. “I think such topics should be left to gentlemen. After all, what would a lady know of war?”
Preshea became a statue of shock.
Donovan frowned. “What did you say?”
Preshea laughed then. “Oh, it is clearly a joke.”
That seemed to make Donovan smile, and he laughed as well. “Oh. Of course. Clearly, the lady jests.”
“If you’ll excuse me.” Everly curtsied again and then pressed her way through the crush in the foyer, going deeper into the townhouse, passing crowded drawing rooms and salons. She found herself in the dining room and allowed a footman to pour her a glass of punch.
Where was Asher?
If he didn’t intend to show, she would leave. Everly usually enjoyed gatherings, but at the moment, she admitted that it was him she’d come for. She didn’t care about their bet. She only cared that she’d be able to see him again, though she was certain her quick departure seemed to say otherwise.
The birth of Brinley’s twins had affected Everly more than she’d thought possible.
She visited her friend after she and her young offspring had been cleaned.
And Lore had been there, looking at his wife with all the love in his body radiated in his eyes. He’d sat in a chair while Brinley remained in bed. Creed, their little boy, had rested in her arms while Lore had held his daughter, Liberty.
Creed and Liberty. She’d thought the names odd, but then she’d seen the teasing gleam in the parents’ eyes and known there to be an intimate story behind it.
Their closeness and the beautiful portrait the family had made did something to Everly. She’d nearly burst into tears in the end, but she’d held it tog
ether if only to spend a few minutes holding each of her godchildren.
Then she’d truly wept.
And not with happiness, as both Brinley and Lore had guessed.
She’d had to leave then. She needed her home in order to remember who she was and who she wasn’t.
Her time with the Curbain family had confused her.
Yet being home and seeing the many things that she knew no one in the world could take from her settled her enough to prepare to see Asher again.
She’d decided she would once again try and pursue an affair with him. Why not? She was a woman. He was a man. It was natural.
She had no idea how long she’d stood in the corner of the room looking very much like a wallflower during her private musings, but then she heard noise from the foyer. Cheering and laughter.
∫ ∫ ∫
3 2
It took effort for Everly to make it to the drawing room where Preshea’s voice could be heard, but upon her arrival, it took a moment for Everly to understand what she was seeing.
Ayers was there and though he definitely wore the satin of a dandy, he did not look ridiculous at all. In fact, while so many other gentlemen seemed to try and emulate Beau Brummel with their attire, Ayers had made the look all his own, seeming in control, and it showed.
His clawhammer coat was a deep blue and his buckskin breeches encased his powerful thighs well. The riding boots gleamed just as much as his hair, which she knew needed no pomade in order to get its wild look.
He should have looked foolish, but he didn’t, and now he was holding court and grinning! Grinning down at the circle of ladies who stared up at him as though he’d just ridden in on a white horse with a sword in hand.
He even managed to look unannoyed. His eyes, those beautiful blue pools of life, held a warmth she only recalled ever seeing when they were alone.
He looked comfortable in his new role.
Far more comfortable than Everly was.
As if he felt her eyes, he looked up.
Her breath caught.
And over the heads of the crowd, she watched one of his eyes close.
Her heart refused to beat.
Ayers had just winked at her.
Then he returned his attention to the women.
“Ayers said you talked him into this.” The voice belonged to James Hayden IV, the Marquess of Denhollow. He was another dandy who also managed to make himself distinct from the crowd. There always seemed to be a madness in him that repelled as much as it drew women to him. He was like a devil. Dark eyes and dark hair with a smile that always made one feel like a lamb who’d been caught by a sheep.
And those eyes. They were large and penetrating.
Everly had never cared for him, but mainly it was because he was beautiful, knew it to be a fact, and thought very few his equal.
The few who knew him called him Denshallow, but unfortunately, insults and cuts would not be allowed tonight.
“Ayers told you I put him up to this? When?” Unable to help herself, she looked at the duke again.
The women around him were laughing. What was he saying?
“Yes, on the way over here. He told me all about your bet.”
“You came together?” Denhollow was not the sort of man Ayers would strike a friendship with. He was Lore’s friend.
Everly’s turned her eyes to the marquess just in time to see his gaze stroke over her body. Where Lord Donovan’s eyes always felt like spider legs, Denhollow’s were more like large hands.
Then he chuckled. “It’s a charming look, but I liked you better before.”
Everly was surprised. Denhollow rarely said anything she agreed with.
“I’ve astounded you?” Denhollow asked. “I don’t know why. You usually look like a temptress, now I wonder how you slipped past your governess.”
She tried to fight her smile but couldn’t.
He gasped again, his eyes crazed as he leaned in. “A smile? Does this mean I’ve any hope of luring you into my bed and—”
She scoffed, her disgust returning. “Absolutely not.” Would a genteel lady say that to a marquess? She hoped so!
He clicked his teeth. “Such a shame. Well, on to the next lass.” Then he moved away.
And Everly moved toward Ayers.
* * *
From the corner of his eye, Asher watched Everly start his way and tried to suppress his laugh. He was certain she’d never looked so sweet. Even when she’d been a debutante, she’d never been this demure.
As she neared, he ceased pretending to listen to the others around him and turned fully toward Everly.
“Lord Ayers.” She curtsied. Her gaze was sweet, but he noted the fire within.
“Lady Wycliff, you appear quite fresh.”
Her gaze narrowed slightly, but then she fixed it.
He began to chuckle. She was enjoying his challenge just as much as he was. Though, in fact, Asher was surprised to find he was better at it then he’d ever imagined he could be.
Those around them looked on in confusion. If his attire and air of benign affability seemed odd, then Everly’s attempt at ingenuity was baffling.
Though she wore a dress that reached just under her chin, it failed to hide a hint of her curves. She looked like an angel. He’d not have been surprised if she sprouted wings.
But then there were her eyes. Hazel with flickers of amber glowing.
He’d planned to avoid her, yet she’d made it impossible to do so now.
Was he happy about that? He found that he was. He could barely remember the reason he wished to keep away from her when she was near.
He took her hand, though she didn’t offer it—just one of the few things Denhollow had encouraged—and kissed her glove, pressing his lips into the fabric until it met the warmth of her skin.
Her cheeks turned a scarlet red that was visible when compared to the white of her gown. Leaning toward her, and making it appear that he did so in order to be heard, he whispered against her ear, “You’re flushed. I’ll take the blame for it.”
She gave a sharp intake of breath. She leaned away, her gaze wide at his candid statement. “Your Grace?”
He was never so candid with a woman, but he’d been in character for half an hour before Everly’s approach and found it easy.
Denhollow had insisted upon it, stating it to be one of the many reasons he was invited to every festivity in London. One never knew what he would say and feared it just as much as they anticipated it.
He’d never known there to be a craft to being a reveler, but apparently, there was.
Asher tucked Everly’s hand in his arm. “You must be thirsty, Lady Wycliff. Here, let me escort you to the refreshment table.” Then he bid the other women good evening and started toward the refreshment table.
The crush was too thick for them to walk side by side, so he pushed Everly in front.
“What has gotten into you?” Everly said over her shoulder.
He bent forward and asked, “This was what you wanted, is it not?”
She looked him over, and he knew she was trying to figure out how much of his words were part of the game or simply him.
Asher wasn’t sure either. Earlier in the evening, he’d felt like a mask had fallen on his face yet had somehow become infused to his skin and a part of him.
But then he’d wondered if perhaps, just the opposite had happened, and suddenly a mask he’d been wearing for over a decade had slipped away.
Why had he avoided parties? Why had he been so reclusive?
Ah, yes, he’d been avoiding Everly, anything that would bring him closer to others, and the haunting memories of his past.
Well, not tonight. He’d put it out of his mind for a few hours.
After another lingering glance, she turned back around.
“Come now, Lady Wycliff,” Lord Donovan said as he suddenly appeared at their side. “I’ll have an answer from you. What say you to this war?” The final word was slightly slurred. He was
clearly deep in his cups.
Asher had no clue what they were speaking about but found himself interested in Everly’s answer.
Everly bit her lower lip. Asher saw the pulse in her throat jump, but then she relaxed. “I’m sorry, my lord. But I fear I don’t have an opinion on such matters. Surely, another gentleman would know more than I on such a macabre subject. Now, please excuse me.” Then she turned away and all but dived into the mass of people before them.
Asher struggled to keep up.
Everyone was bumping into one other and Everly often had to stop in their progression.
Asher used those moments to get closer to her, bending toward her ear. The room was warm and heightened her scent. The softness played havoc with his senses. He inhaled deeply before he spoke.
“What was that about?”
“As if you don’t know,” she whispered. Then she turned around. Someone behind her managed to press her into him.
His hand instinctively went to her waist, at first just to stabilize her, but then... to settle her against him.
She pulled in a tight breath, but then narrowed her gaze. “That was your goal, was it not? To put me in my place.”
“Not at all.”
Her expression said she doubted him.
He was surprised. “Everly, this was a simple dare. Nothing more.”
Her gaze cut away, and she pressed her lips together again.
She didn’t believe him.
Immediately, he was consumed with anger, any sense of the merriment he’d been filled with moments ago was vanquished from his blood.
∫ ∫ ∫
3 3
Everly wasn’t sure what had come over her. Perhaps it was seeing that Asher had excelled at their challenge while she had not.
Or perhaps it was because… she truly feared he liked her this way.
She could never submit to a man who did, and that knowledge pained her.
Asher would either have to accept her for who she was or…
Suddenly, the possessive hold he’d already had on her grew hard. Then he was cutting them through the crowd. His polite air was gone. She looked up at his face and found it to be the portrait of stone was all too familiar with.
The Perfect Duke (Valiant Love) (A Regency Romance Book) Page 16