by Lexy Timms
With breakfast finished Alistair went in search of Evie, ready to begin discussing plans for the upcoming dinner.
When the front doorbell rang, he stopped his search to answer it. Three people stood in the manor doorway, each of them elegantly dressed, two of whom Alistair recognized instantly. Fourteen years hadn’t changed that scowl on the baron’s face. Nor the air of conceit radiating from the baroness. He bowed politely. “Lord Smythe. Lady Smythe.”
“Who the devil are you?” Lord Smythe demanded as he stormed into the house.
“I’m the new butler, sir,” Alistair responded, taking Lord Smythe’s suitcase.
“Oh, thank goodness,” Lady Smythe said with a dramatic sigh. “I thought it would be ages before we found a replacement.” She dumped her bags at Alistair’s feet and followed her husband inside.
Lord and Lady Smythe’s companion, a tall, athletic-looking man with a tan, stepped inside.
“My bags will be along shortly, so you needn’t worry,” the man said.
Alistair shut the door and found Evie stepping into the foyer.
She kissed each of the new arrivals on both cheeks. “Mother. Father.” Evie stopped when she got to the tall man and turned to look at Alistair. “Alistair, this is Nicholas Forbes, the Duke of Rothford. He’ll be staying with us for the next several weeks.”
It took every ounce of strength Alistair had not to hate the man. Because not only was the duke wealthy and titled, he was evidently Evie’s future husband.
Chapter 6
“MOTHER, WHAT IS HE doing here?” Evie hissed from her seat in the parlor.
Her mother frowned as she settled down onto the antique armchair across from her. “What do you mean? I thought you would be happy to see him.”
Male voices from the grounds outside filtered into the parlor. Her father had taken Nicholas outside for a chat. No doubt they were talking about his imminent marriage proposal. Though she had only been seeing Nicholas for a few months, his status and the lavish gifts he gave her seemed to be enough for her parents.
“I-I am.” Was that a lie? Evie couldn’t be certain of what she really felt. Though she thought of Nicholas as rather arrogant and entitled, he did focus so much of his attention on her. Despite lording his stature as a duke over people he saw as lesser, he also donated so much to charity. With all the good he seemed to try to do, it did seem unfair to paint him with a broad brush. She could grow fond of him in time. Love matches were for other people, not nobles. Nobles married strategically to bring wealth and connections with each generation. That was how they had survived over the centuries. Besides, life had blessed her with so much, she didn’t deserve love on top of it all as well.
“Well then, what is the issue?” her mother demanded. “So what if we decided to bring him to the manor a few days early?”
The issue was that his unexpected arrival had filled her with guilt. Ever since she had laid eyes on Alistair, he was all she could think about. When she had gotten into bed last night, she had replayed their conversation over and over. Relived her excitement at seeing he had returned. Went over the way her stomach fluttered when he gazed at her on their walk. Though it was silly to be overwhelmed by a single glance, she couldn’t help herself. Alistair seemed to say so much with his eyes alone. Nicholas had never looked at her that way. Not ever.
“You could have prepared me,” Evie said. “Imagine my shock at seeing him unexpectedly before my morning tea. I must look frightful at this hour.”
“Oh nonsense Evelyn, my dear,” her mother said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “You are a beauty, like your mother and your grandmother before you.”
Her mother wasn’t entirely wrong. In her fifties, her mother was the picture of sophisticated, mature elegance. Tall and statuesque, with dyed blonde hair, sparkling blue eyes, and strong aristocratic features, her mother would probably turn men’s heads if she lived to be a hundred years old. To this day she modeled jewelry and designer fashion for upscale brands.
“Not as beautiful as you,” Evie said, meaning it.
Her mother smiled. “My darling, you are the most stunning girl in the world. And I’m sure that the duke knows it. One smile and a few pleasant phrases from you, and Rothford will be eating out of your hand in no time. Like one of your horses.” Her mother laughed at that. “Then it will be wedding bells, just like we’ve always wanted. Imagine it...a duchess in the family at last.”
Rising to the pinnacle of nobility had been all her parents had ever wanted. It was why they had spent a small fortune on the best boarding schools and finishing schools. Not just because it was tradition for her class, but because, as lesser nobles, it was one of the ways to catch the attention of a duke. This was her duty. Her wants and hopes and dreams were irrelevant. Marrying up was what a good daughter did for her family. At least, that was what she had always been taught. But now that her wedding seemed imminent, Evie was starting to feel the weight of the pressure. The weight of expectation.
“Yes, at last,” she finally said hollowly.
Her father and Nicholas stepped into the parlor.
“Ladies,” Nicholas said, politely acknowledging them.
“The duke and I have had a very serious discussion,” her father said, a glint in his eyes as he looked at his wife. “My dear, I believe Rothford and Evelyn have much to talk about. Shall we leave them to it?”
“Certainly.” Her mother stood up, gave Evie a smile, and followed her husband out of the parlor.
“Evelyn.” Nicholas held out his hands to her and she got up to take them.
His hands were large but soft. Nicholas had never worked a hard day’s work in his life. Even she had gotten her hands dirty in the stables with her beloved horses.
Nearing forty, Nicholas was tall with wavy brown hair, a square jaw, and a tan he always managed to maintain even in the winter months because of all his globetrotting to the most magnificent beaches in the world. He had been a playboy in his youth, but now that it was time for him to settle down he had focused every last bit of his stifling attention on her.
“It’s good to see you again,” she said softly. “Though your early arrival to the manor is a bit of a surprise.”
He released her hand with a frown. “I tried calling you several times yesterday.”
Evie’s eyes widened. With the distraction of Alistair’s arrival, she hadn’t so much as glanced at her phone to check up on missed calls or messages. “I’m so sorry. I was distracted yesterday.”
“Distracted?” Nicholas released her hands and narrowed his blue eyes. “Evelyn, when a man calls you answer. No excuses.”
There it was. His arrogance and entitlement. Though he had never been so blunt about it before. Usually he spoke the way aristocrats often did. In vague terms for plausible deniability.
Evie glared. “When a man calls? That’s a bit regressive, don’t you think?”
“We’re nobles. There are standards for how we behave,” he said. “I expect you to adhere to those standards once I’ve made you my wife. The man leads, the woman dutifully follows without question. That’s how it has always been.”
“Is that so?” she asked, irritation at his dismissive manner surging through her.
“Speaking of which... what was so distracting that you couldn’t take my calls yesterday, Evelyn?” he demanded.
She paused. Swallowed hard. How could she confess that it was the handsome butler downstairs who had distracted her from everything around her? “I was helping to interview our new butler.”
“Awfully young chap for a butler, don’t you think?”
“I don’t know what you mean,” she said breathlessly.
“Of course you don’t,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “You’re beautiful, make no mistake—but you’re not very bright are you, Evelyn?”
Those words were like a slap in her face. “That is an unkind thing to say.”
“It’s unkind to tell you how beautiful you are?” he asked with a heavy s
igh. “Did you get my gift at least?”
“Yes.” Her shoulders slumped. “Thank you. They were all incredibly beautiful.”
“They?”
“The tiaras.”
“Ah, that’s what I sent you. Of course. I remember now.” He gave her a self-satisfied grin. “You can expect more gifts like that. Beautiful women should be showered with gifts, don’t you think?”
“I suppose. Though some things are just as important as gifts.”
Nicholas gave a derisive snort. “Like what?”
“Well, talking. Spending quality time together.” She thought of her walk with Alistair the day before and her face heated at the memory. Though Alistair had stubbornly kept a professional distance, just being with him had made her feel happy. Given her a giddy feeling she hadn’t felt since she was a child.
“Talk is cheap,” he said. “And I’m not some working-class stiff, Evelyn. What’s the point of having money if you don’t use it?”
“Well, there are so many other things it can be used for,” she said. “You give to charity, don’t you? I’ve been meaning to tell you how generous I think that is.”
“Oh, please. I give to charity for the tax write-off and to stay in the press. The same reason everyone else does it. I don’t really care who gets the money.”
She chewed her lip. “Nicholas, it’s not like you to be this—”
“Blunt? Yes, well, now that I’ve gotten your father’s blessing to ask for your hand, I say it’s high time we start being our true selves, don’t you think?”
“Maybe my true self doesn’t want this.” She turned from him, and he grabbed her wrist so tightly that it hurt.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Nicholas asked.
She gasped at the pain shooting up her arm. “To talk to my father. Take your hand off me. If you think you’re going to get away with hurting me, you’re very wrong about that.”
“Evelyn, I could never really hurt you,” Nicholas said, his cold blue eyes narrowing down to slits. “I promise to never strike you. To never force anything on you. But sometimes a woman needs a firm hand. And if a firm grip and a hard shake at times will get you to see, well, now you know what to expect.”
In that moment she despised him. This was more than her frustration with his arrogance. As a baron’s daughter, she was used to haughtiness. But this was worse than anything she had ever experienced. It was totally ungentlemanly on Nicholas’ part, and she was filled with an anger that made her blood boil.
“I said release me.”
Nicholas let her go and then plastered a smile on his face. “You are very spirited, Evie. Like one of your horses. But you and I both know that horses have to be broken in. Made into docile creatures so that they can earn their keep.”
She gasped. “How dare—”
“You’re not really bringing anything to the table other than your youth and your smashing looks,” he said. “I’m a duke, for heaven’s sake. No baron’s daughter can bring anything like that. Do you know how much money I have? Even more than your family.”
What could she say to that? Evie didn’t dare take offense, because her own parents were pushing her into this marriage for material reasons. Love had never been a part of the equation for either of them. But at least Evie had held out hope for genuine affection and mutual respect.
“I want heirs, Evelyn. From good stock,” Nicholas went on. “You want a title. We each have something the other wants. If you accept your role in this, you will get what you want.”
“What I want?” A lump formed in her throat. Nobody seemed to care what she wanted. She had done her duty all her life, giving in every time she had tried and failed to stand up for herself. Duty was all that mattered in a place like Huntingshire. After all, Alistair was doing what he could for his father. And though she sensed that he didn’t want to be a butler, family duty clearly meant a lot to him.
They were similar in that way.
It was then, as her heart warmed at the thought of Alistair, that she realized what she wanted. A genuine friend. An animal sanctuary to save horses and other discarded animals that needed a home. True love. Simple things that no amount of money could ever buy. And if she married Nicholas she would never have a chance at her actual dreams. The dreams she hadn’t allowed herself to think about for years. Because, to her family and friends, dreams didn’t matter. All that mattered was who was getting married, how much wealth someone had, and how close they could get to the most powerful person on the next rung of the ladder.
“I want you to go,” she said flatly. “Tell my father I want to speak to him, and then you can go to your room and stay out of my way.”
Nicholas gave her one last hard stare before exiting the parlor.
Even though he was gone, Evie was still unsettled by the way Nicholas had treated her. Her stomach tightened and she laced her fingers together. Her hands were shaking and she started to pace up and down the parlor in an effort to calm herself down. She would tell her father. Reveal how horrible Nicholas had been, and then she would be rid of him for good. There would be disappointment, but she could always start again. Though there wasn’t an endless supply of eligible bachelors in the British aristocracy, she didn’t have to remain here. Maybe she could find a decent man with the right sort of title and wealth elsewhere.
“Evelyn, I can’t tell you how pleased I am,” her father said as he entered the parlor. He grasped her shoulders and looked her in the eyes with a smile. “Not only are you going to provide an heir for the family, but you’re going to become a duchess. Everything your mother and I have dreamed of for you is coming true. I have never been more proud.”
Evie opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out.
“What is it, dear?” her father asked. “You look troubled.”
She shook her head, her resolve already faltering. How could she disappoint him? This was the first time her father had ever expressed his pride in her, and having his approval at last meant the world to her. “It’s nothing. I merely wanted to tell you about the new butler we hired.”
“Oh. What about him?”
“We hired Mr. Godstone’s son,” she said.
“Godstone...which one is Godstone again?”
“Your chauffeur,” she reminded him. “Former chauffeur, I guess.”
“Right. Of course. I can never keep these servants’ names straight.” Her father paused and Evie wondered if he was actually telling the truth. The Godstones had been working with the family before she or her father were born. Her father’s face darkened. “That young man who answered the door was Godstone’s son? The ruffian who almost got you killed by that horse?”
“He’s not a ruffian,” she blurted without thinking.
Her father narrowed his eyes. “Don’t tell me you’ve restarted your friendship with him.”
Evie felt her heart sink. Pain spiraled through her. If she had thought that she might have eventually been able to convince her father that she could befriend Alistair again, she was wrong. The harsh expression on her father’s face told her that. “No. I simply hired him so that his father could collect his pension.”
“The man chose to retire early,” her father muttered. “That’s hardly our problem.”
“He worked hard all the years that he was here,” she said.
“But his hard work is of no use to us if he’s gone is it, my dear?”
“That’s why I hired his son.”
Her father sighed. “Fine. I’m in too good a mood to argue.”
“I suppose I should go about my duties for the rest of the day,” she said, quickly heading for the door before her father could change his mind about Alistair.
“Oh, and Evelyn?”
She paused and turned to look at him. “Yes, Father?”
“You’re to keep your distance from him,” her father said sternly. “Godstone was overly familiar as a child, and I let it go on for too long. I won’t stand for it now. You will make that man
know his place or, pension or no pension, I will sack him without a second thought. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Father,” she said meekly, too afraid for Alistair’s job to dare argue now. “Crystal clear.”
Chapter 7
“MISS SMYTHE,” ALISTAIR said, rising from his place at the kitchen table. The chef and the housemaid rose from their seats as well. He had been going over pantry inventory with some of the household staff for most of the morning, but he was eager to set all of that aside at the mere sight of Evelyn.
Evie stepped into the kitchen, her shoulders slumped; the sadness in her blue eyes so unmistakable he knew that she was on the verge of tears. “Good day again, Mr. Godstone.” She nodded politely at the other servants.
Recognizing her sadness, he desperately wanted to ask her what was the matter. But that would be overstepping in the most disrespectful way. A butler did not dare ask what was making his employer so distraught in front of other servants. Evie herself would have objected to it, and addressing him by his last name clearly signaled that.
“Is there anything I can help you with?” he asked, wanting to reach out and soothe her pain.
“Yes.” She inhaled audibly as if to calm herself. “I would like to have a light breakfast in my bedroom instead of a full breakfast in the dining room. Tea will be sufficient this morning.”
Alistair turned and gestured to one of the nearby maids. “Have tea and scones brought up to Miss Smythe’s room.” He remembered how much she had liked scones as a child.
“Right away, sir,” the maid said before scurrying off to do as instructed.
Evie stared at him for a lingering moment, her eyes still shining. “Thank you.”
Before Alistair could respond, she rushed out of the kitchen.
His body tensed as he contemplated what to do next. If he stayed behind, he would be doing exactly what the moment called for. A return to his duties without so much as acknowledging the pain that must have been evident to the other servants as well. There would be no untoward whisperings about his behavior. But if Evie was in trouble and he did nothing, Alistair didn’t think he would be able to ever forgive himself. The thought of watching her suffer without intervening was unbearable.