by Jane Charles
Why the blazes wasn’t his body reacting to her seduction of his person? It had been almost a bloody month so there should at least be a twitch in his nether regions, but there was absolutely nothing. He’d be worried that something was wrong with his person if his body hadn’t begun to react quite naturally when he was with Miss Doyle this morning.
“What is it, Henry? Is something wrong?”
“I’m not so certain.” He frowned and took a sip of the hot liquid.
“Is it me?” she pouted.
Even if he’d managed to raise some desire, her whine would have killed it.
“Have I displeased you somehow? You’ve not visited and now you don’t seem to want me.”
Perhaps it was Harriet and not so much him. It wasn’t as if the urges hadn’t been present in the past month. They’d just not been strong enough for him to want to make the effort to visit Harriet to assuage them.
“This was meant only to be a temporary agreement and it’s been two years,” he finally said.
Panic flashed in her brown eyes.
“Don’t worry. You’ll receive a nice settlement.”
“Where will I live? Where will I go?” Tears welled in her eyes.
Blast, he hated it when women cried, especially when it came from a very true and deep feeling and not meant for manipulation.
Henry turned more fully to Harriet and took her hand. “I’ve enjoyed our time together and will always remember you fondly.”
She sniffed and he took the handkerchief from his pocket.
“I’m certain that in no time you’ll have a new protector.”
“They won’t be you.”
Henry frowned. “Come now, you can’t claim that we share any deep feelings for one another.” He cared for her, but was far from in love with her.
“I do care for you, Henry. And, you’ve been kind, as well as attentive, when you’ve visited. You’ve never been concerned with your own pleasure alone. Others, are not so pleasant to be with.”
“It’s not as if you need to go out right away and find someone,” Henry assured her. “Take your time and meet other gentlemen.”
“If I don’t have you, I won’t be able to support myself.”
Ah, yes, there was that. She received gifts, had a house and he paid for the servants. Nothing was her own, unless she wished to sell the jewels and clothing.
Henry looked around at the modest house. This had been her home for two years and they had been good together. “If I gift you the house, and pay the servants for the next two months, would that put your mind at ease?”
Once again tears welled and then spilled down her cheeks. “Oh, thank you Henry.”
Well, that was it then. He’d broken from his mistress when his intention in coming here was for intimacy. Odd that, and not something he wished to consider too deeply at the moment.
Suddenly uncomfortable with the unexpected turn of events and his current thoughts, Henry stood. “Well, I’ll be off. Take care, Harriet.”
“You too, Henry.”
Once he was outside on the stoop, Henry looked around. “What the blazes have I just done and why?”
Eve’s eyes were about to cross from all of the reading. There was a time that all she did was read—everything that she could get her hands on. That was before her father died. Her brother’s loss of their property had reduced Eve to having only discarded newssheets from which to acquire information. Now, it was as if she’d been plopped back into the schoolroom with her governess waiting to test her knowledge when all she wished to do was curl up in a sunny corner and read a novel.
However, it was a small price to pay. As long as she studied, she’d be able to attend Ascot, and even better, at the end of a month the necklace would be hers, as it should be. Yet, why was it necessary that she not only learn to speak proper English, but to make others wonder where she was from?
With a sigh, she sat back and looked out the window. It wasn’t just the question that kept her mind occupied, but her new guardian as well. Eve had never met anyone like Lord Kilsyth before. It would be very easy to dislike him, but she’d seen a glimpse of perhaps kindness in his grey eyes. Often they revealed emotion in the exact opposite of his words and tone, such as when he told her he didn’t really care what became of her. She’d been angered, of course, but as soon as the words had been spoken, those grey eyes darkened and warmed.
So, why tell her one thing, but feel something entirely different?
Oh, she valued honesty above everything else and had assumed that was the one thing she could count on from her tyrannical guardian. Now, she wasn’t so certain.
However, he wasn’t like any other gentleman of society. He may have the title, but he did not behave as such. When he engaged her in conversation, he’d listened—truly listened, even if he laughed at her. It was as if he’d start to warm to her and then became short a moment later.
Frankly, Eve could not figure him out and she was determined to find out who Lord Kilsyth truly was under his harsh exterior. An extremely handsome exterior that wore unpleasantness like a mantel.
Eve sat forward. That was it. He cloaked himself in authoritarianism. Is that what he wanted the world to see?
She’d made it a practice to study the character of everyone she encountered. At one time, she’d hoped to become an actress and believed the study would be beneficial. She quickly dismissed the idea of taking the stage herself, yet continued to study those around her. And, the more she learned, the more fascinating people became. Her current study would now be Lord Kilsyth. She would determine what he was hiding and what he was so afraid of everyone else seeing.
With a smile and determination, Eve settled back in the chair and picked up the primer she’d once studied as a girl. This next month could prove to be very enlightening and entertaining indeed.
“Ah, Miss Doyle, you’ve been at your studies for hours,” Pickmore said as he came into the library. “You really must stop for tea.”
“A cup of tea would be refreshin’, but I doubt my guardian would approve.” Unless she drank it in the library while reading a book, much as she’d done while breaking her fast.
“Nonsense,” he insisted. “Even the military allowed for moments of rest and they are even stricter task masters than Kilsyth.”
That, Eve very much doubted, but a moment away from the book would be quite refreshing.
“Cook has prepared some cakes and biscuits that promise to be delightful,” he continued. “Do join me, Miss Doyle.”
Cakes, biscuits and tea—all things she enjoyed when her father was alive. “Thank ye, Captain Pickmore, I’d be delighted ta join ye.” Eve finally pulled herself from the seat. She’d sat in the same place for so long that she’d become stiff and really wished to stretch, but as she wasn’t alone, she’d not allow herself to do so. Instead, she crossed the room. Pickmore stood back so that she could proceed him but Eve did not know where she was going. “I’ve seen only me chambers and the library and know nothin’ about the rest of Kilsyth’s home, so ye must show me the way.”
A grin broke out on Pickmore’s face as he held out his elbow. “Allow me to give you the grand tour.”
A tour wasn’t exactly necessary, but it could prove to be important that she know the lay of the townhouse. Instead of a tour, however, Pickmore only led her up one flight of stairs, to the first floor, and into a drawing room at the end of the corridor.
She sucked in a breath at the cheeriness of the room, which was in complete contrast to the library with all of its wood and dark furniture. This room was decorated in light greens and cream. In addition, it was quite bright with the sun coming in through the tall windows.
“This is far more favorable than the dreary library, don’t you agree, Miss Doyle?”
“Aye, it is.” She wandered across the room and looked outside. Below were gardens and a small sitting area. Beyond were mews. How many horses did Kilsyth own and what other surprises were there to discover? Turning
once again she got her bearings. On the ground floor was the large entrance, library and she’d glimpsed a dining room when she’d gone up the stairs. This floor held the current drawing room and another room for entertainment perhaps? As the library was easily two stories there wasn’t much space for additional rooms on this floor.
The second floor, the one above, Eve assumed held bedchambers, as that was where she’d been put. If this home was similar to the one her father had taken when in London, then the maids slept on the floor above Eve’s, whereas the housekeeper and footmen had rooms below ground where the kitchens and storage were housed.
It was likely that Kilsyth’s and Pickmore’s chambers were on the same floor as Eve’s, yet she didn’t know which ones they were. Not that it was any of her concern, of course, but it was good to know where others might be in the event she needed to leave without anyone being aware.
“Please, join me.” Pickmore gestured to the settee as Mrs. Peade entered, followed by a footman carrying a laden tray. She instructed him to place it in the center of the table within the sitting area and Eve settled onto the cushion.
“Will that be all, Captain Pickmore?” the housekeeper inquired.
“This should do quite nicely. Thank you, Mrs. Peade.”
She nodded and quit the room as Eve leaned forward to serve. It might have been a few years since she’d served tea, but she recalled how it was done and as the only female in the room, the task fell to her. “Do ye take anythin’ in yer tea, Captain Pickmore.”
“No, thank you,” he answered.
Pickmore was a likeable gentleman and much more pleasant to be around than Kilsyth, however he didn’t intrigue her nearly as much as her guardian did, nor was he as handsome. “How long have ye and Lord Kilsyth been friends?” If she were to learn about her guardian, who better to ask than his friend?
“Oh, since Eton. We shared a room and have been friends since we were thirteen.”
Eve found herself frowning as she poured for herself. Where Pickmore was quite friendly, easygoing and seemed quite happy, Kilsyth was stiff and unpleasant. How did the two manage to get along for so long?
“Ah, I can see the confusion in your eyes, Eve.” Pickmore laughed. “I assure you, Kilsyth hasn’t always been so boorish.”
She really must learn to school her features better.
Pickmore lifted a strawberry tart from the tray and bit into it before he moaned. “I do believe these are the best tarts I’ve eaten.”
She’d never been a fan of tarts but studied the tray of treats while trying to decide which she’d like to taste first. It has been so long since she’d had anything sweet.
“Of course, I didn’t have many opportunities to enjoy tarts while in the army, so perhaps these are the best because I haven’t had them in many years.” He chuckled.
“How long were ye in the army?”
“Seven years. I bought my commission as soon as Henry and I walked out of Trinity College.”
Eve frowned again.
“Kilsyth.” Pickmore laughed. “He wasn’t Kilsyth when I met him and since I’ve known him for fourteen years, I tend to fall back on our early days.”
In a blink, Eve was reminded that she knew very little about her guardian, other than he was the Earl of Kilsyth and that his given name, as listed in the guardianship papers, was Henry Cochran. The name had a nice ring to it, she supposed, and it fit him somehow.
“Why did ye decide ta buy a commission?” Curiosity was eating at Eve to learn more about Kilsyth, but she didn’t wish for it to be obvious, so was careful in her questions.
“I’m the second son of a viscount,” he explained. “The church held no interest. At least not so much as leading a flock, though I attend almost regularly. As trade wasn’t an option, the army became my next adventure.”
“Ye sold yer commission or are ye on leave?” Oh, she hoped he wasn’t here for only a short visit, though he did plan on staying at least for a month.
“Sold it.” He set the cup aside. “I had enough of that life and wished to return to England.” Then he settled back once again. “Though I’d very much like to return to Egypt if given the chance. Quite fascinating, I assure you, but I was not there as long as I had wished before being sent to India.”
“Why was Egypt so fascinatin’?” Eve found herself asking as she decided upon a biscuit.
“Once we routed the French from Abukir and Alexandria and confiscated the antiquities Napoleon had acquired, I’d very much looked forward to visiting the tombs again.”
“Tombs?” she blinked at him.
“After their deaths, Egyptians were wrapped in linen before being placed in a sarcophagus, then buried in tombs.”
This much she knew. However, she had no desire to actually visit a tomb.
“Many of those antiquities are on display at the British Museum and I look forward to viewing the collection, as I was not given the opportunity to experience it as a whole before I departed Egypt.”
“Oh, I’d very much like ta see it as well.” She’d only visited the museum once and longed to return.
“Then, I shall take you.”
“After the bargainin’ that occurred ta attend Ascot, I don’t believe Kilsyth will allow an outin’ ta the museum.” Her guardian had pretty much affirmed that she’d remain in this house. However, perhaps any study of Egypt might lead to a visit to the British Museum. With that thought, Eve decided to double her efforts to learn what was needed in hopes of an outing.
“Oh, I’ll get around him somehow,” Pickmore assured her. “He can’t mean for you to study during all of your waking hours.”
Unfortunately, Eve feared that was exactly Kilsyth’s plan. But it was only for a month and then she’d be free to do as she pleased.
“Ye said Kilsyth hadn’t always been so disagreeable?” Eve returned to the one topic on her mind.
“Quite the opposite.” He grinned. “One of the best pranksters in Eton, I assure you.”
Eve had difficulty believing Kilsyth would even think of a prank and then pull it on anyone.
“He was always quite studious, as was I, but there was much fun to be had at Eton and in our university days.”
Fun? Kilsyth?
“It’s a shame really, to see how he’s changed.” Pickmore frowned and took a sip of his tea. “I first noticed it in his letters, and it was why I visited his mother upon my return, but she had no idea what had brought about the shift in his mood and has been quite put out with Henry for not confiding in her.”
Eve could only assume mothers would wish that their children confided in them, but she wouldn’t know since hers had died when Eve was only a child. If she had a mother living, she’d certainly be confiding in her.
“However, I do believe that your arrival might very well change matters back to the way they once were.” He set the teacup back on the table. “I do miss my old friend and perhaps between the two of us we can restore him to the gentleman he once was.”
Between the two of us? How was that even possible when she had no idea what had brought about the change or even who Kilsyth had been before?
Chapter 8
Wiggons’ School for Elegant Young Ladies,
Cornwall, England
“Well, that’s rather alarming.” Miss Hamilton’s voice came from the sitting room where the teachers gathered for tea.
Eliza flattened herself against the wall and put her finger to her lips so Sophia, Rosemary, Olivia and Victoria would remain quiet.
Sophia rolled her eyes. Just because their teacher made such a statement didn’t mean there was any cause to worry. Instead of doing as Eliza wished, she peeked around the corner to find Miss Hamilton sitting in a chair near the window. Beside her on the table were the various papers and journals she subscribed to. Just because her services were no longer desired at the British Museum didn’t mean that Miss Hamilton didn’t continue to read the latest news from London as well as papers written with regard to historical an
d antiquarian finds.
Victoria marched past Sophia and into the sitting room “Is all well, Miss Hamilton?”
Rosemary started to follow but Eliza grasped her arm. However, Sophia followed Victoria, as did Olivia.
“For me, why yes, but a shipment has been stolen.”
The girls blinked at her. “Were you expecting a shipment?” Olivia asked.
“No. Not me,” Miss Hamilton chuckled. “A shipment of rare artifacts, as well as a mummy have been taken from a home in Mayfair. The owner for some reason had it on display for his friends and acquaintances and then he was going to ship everything to the British Museum. But, before he was given the opportunity, thieves broke in while he was away, tied up the servants and made off with the artifacts, and the mummy, as well as other items of value in the man’s collection.”
“I’m certain they will find his belongings. After all, how easy would it be to hide a sarcophagus?” Eliza announced, following them into the sitting room. Apparently, she’d given up trying to eavesdrop.
“That’s just it. The sarcophagus was left behind, but the mummy was taken.”
“Eww,” Olivia scrunched up her nose. “Why would anyone want a mummy?”
Those were Sophia’s thoughts as well.
“They are still worth a good deal of money,” Miss Hamilton answered, “As are the artifacts that were taken.”
“It would serve the thieves right if they were cursed,” Rosemary announced as if she’d been the affronted.
“Cursed?” Eliza suddenly became interested.
Miss Hamilton laughed. “Though it would serve the thieves right, there are no such thing as curses.”
“Oh, but there are, Miss Hamilton.” Rosemary took the chair opposite their teacher. “My mother wrote all about the curses that had been carved inside some of the tombs and that those who enter or take from the tomb will be cursed and horrible things will befall them.”
Eliza edged forward, her eyes lit with fascination.
“I’m well aware, Rosemary. My father did take me along on his adventures. I simply don’t believe that curses exist.”