The door opened, and Eve was surprised to see Margaret coming toward her, her face transforming from hard lines of determination into fragile concern. Eve rose to greet her as best as she could and was suddenly wrapped in her friend’s embrace. “I have been so terribly worried about you,” Margaret confessed. She hugged Eve tightly.
“I’m sorry.” Eve pulled out of her arms so she could speak with her friend properly. “I took the wrong road on the day I arrived and ended up here instead.”
“If only you would have waited.” Margaret’s eyes filled with regret. “Our coachman was sent to fetch you. He told me he waited until the roads grew icy, and he began to suspect you must have been delayed.”
Pressing her lips together, Eve didn’t quite know what to say except, “Ravenworth was kind enough to let me warm myself by his fire.”
“Of course he was,” Margaret said. “You’re a beautiful young woman, Eve. I’m sure he was quite eager to get his hands on you.”
Eve’s mouth fell open. She stared at Margaret. A ferocious expression had settled upon her face while her hands had balled themselves into tight fists.
“He could have turned me away,” Eve said. “But he didn’t. Instead, he offered me something to eat and asked his groom to prepare the carriage. But then the roads froze, and it became too hazardous for us to venture out.”
“So he offered you a bed instead.”
Eve started getting annoyed. It had been a couple of years since she’d seen Margaret last. She’d been so full of laughter and mischief. Not at all the stern stickler for propriety she was proving to be at the moment. Which made Eve wonder if marriage might not agree with Margaret, or if there was some other reason for her to leap to the worst conclusions. “I don’t believe I like what you are implying,” Eve said, matching Margaret’s blunt tone.
Margaret stared at Eve for a long moment as if considering something, then said, “If you were in my shoes you would not be so flip about this. That man…” Her voice began to shake, and it struck Eve how deeply this situation affected her. “He is the worst sort of scoundrel, a reprobate of the first order, Eve! If word of your sojourn here gets out, you will be ruined! No respectable gentleman will want to marry you. Do you understand that?”
Eve tilted her head and contemplated the warning. “Ravensworth made that point perfectly clear,” she mused.
My reputation is not what it once was.
Would you throw away your chance to make a respectable match on a man who’s been shunned by his own family?
“Did he really?” The sarcastic edge with which Margaret spoke wasn’t lost on Eve.
“Yes,” she said. “But he didn’t tell me why that is.”
Margaret snorted and rolled her eyes. “That is hardly surprising.”
“I would like for you to do so right now, however,” Eve pressed. She’d been trying to make sense of the whole situation for several days without success. But Margaret was loyal to her, not to Ravenworth, and Eve meant to take advantage of this.
“It is not for an innocent’s ears,” Margaret said. She sank down onto the same chair Ravenworth had made use of when he’d come to check on Eve for the past few days.
Eve wondered if her friend might leap straight back out of it if she knew. Which made her lips twitch in response to the funny image such an idea posed. She forced back her momentary amusement and said, “Be that as it may, I am not leaving this room until you tell me what he has been accused of.”
Margaret stared at her and suddenly frowned. Her eyes narrowed, and she tilted her chin so she could look Eve straight in the eye. “Have you done something stupid like fall in love with him?”
Eve dropped onto the edge of the bed with a sigh. “Don’t be ridiculous. I barely know the man.”
A second passed, followed by another. Eve held her breath, and then Margaret suddenly said, “Goodness gracious me, you have!”
“Just tell me why Ravenworth doesn’t deserve my affection. All things considered, I believe I ought to know.”
“He seduced a young gentlewoman. Miss Edwina Jenkins, is her name. She’s the daughter of a local landowner.”
Eve tried to wrap her mind around that bit of information. She shook her head. “No.”
“Ravenworth reportedly bedded her and refused to take her to wife. Her father called Ravenworth out. The two fought a duel with pistols, resulting in Mr. Jenkins getting shot in the shoulder. He missed Ravenworth, who claimed victory, but after what happened, Ravenworth never showed his face in polite society again. Nobody invited him. His own family, from what I hear, refuses to have anything to do with him anymore.” Margaret winced. “He even had a fiancée at the time. Naturally, the lady called off the engagement and chose to marry someone else.”
“And Miss Edwina Jenkins?” Eve asked. “What happened to her?”
“She moved away. From what I gather, her father was able to get her married to a widower who wasn’t too picky about her lack of innocence.”
Eve frowned. “Was Ravenworth actually caught in a compromising position with her?”
“It is my understanding,” Margaret slowly told her, “that he was found in the middle of the act.”
Eve’s back went rigid. “Are you certain of this?”
Her friend leveled her with a frank stare. “It is what people say.”
People had also said Eve’s father was prone to violence after he’d yelled at a woman who’d chosen to comment on his lack of responsibility toward his children. As rude as the woman had been, her statement had been apt, though she’d been wrong to start spreading falsehoods simply because she didn’t like how Papa had reacted. He’d never struck another person in his life, and yet word suddenly had it he probably beat his daughters on a regular basis. The pitying looks Eve and her sisters began to receive had been disheartening. Worst of all, nobody had believed them when they’d insisted their father would never take out his anger on them.
“People say a lot of things, Margaret. Only half of it is true, if that.”
“You don’t believe me?”
Smiling, Eve reached out and squeezed Margaret’s hand in a gesture of reassurance. “I believe you think you know the facts. What I don’t believe is the verity of these facts.” She shook her head gently. “Ravenworth didn’t bed Miss. Edwina Jenkins. I’m not sure what might have happened to make people think he did, but they’re wrong. He has been falsely accused.” She knew this in her heart as easily as she knew her own name.
Margaret stared at her as if she were mad. “How can you be so blind, Eve?”
“How can you?”
Margaret sat back in her seat. She drew her hand away from Eve’s. “Very well. Explain your reasoning to me. Tell me why I’m wrong to think he did such a thing.”
Eve considered the man she’d come to know, of how generous he’d been and how well he’d treated her, even when he’d admitted to his desire for her. “Because he has had every opportunity to seduce me during my stay here, and yet he refrained. He didn’t even attempt to kiss me. Not for lack of wanting to, for I have no doubt in my mind he did, but because he refused to compromise me any more than I already was by remaining under his roof.”
“Are you saying he never made any advances?”
Eve nodded. “He said a few things he probably shouldn’t have said, but he kept himself under control. Which is just as well, since I fear I would not have been able to resist him if he had tried to lure me into his bed.”
“Eve!”
Margaret’s expression suggested she was thoroughly appalled, but Eve merely shrugged. “It is the truth. Besides, you are my dearest friend and a married woman to boot. Surely I can confide such things in you?”
“Well, yes, I suppose so,” Margaret said a little grudgingly. She bit her lip. “It is merely surprising to hear you talk so candidly on such a taboo subject.”
Eve smiled. “I don’t think I would have done so five days ago, but after meeting Ravenworth and getting to know him… Do you realize he st
rode through snow and freezing rain to save me after I tried to make my own way to you? I sprained my ankle in the process, and he carried me back here, ensured my every need was met and—”
“Not every need, I suspect,” Margaret murmured, prompting a bit of sputtered laughter on Eve’s part. She slapped Margaret’s shoulder, and for a moment, the two of them shared an amused bit of amicable silence.
“The point is, I think he has been misjudged.”
“And if he hasn’t?”
Expelling a breath, Eve pondered her friend’s question. She didn’t believe it was possible for a second, but if it were… “Then he is not the man I believe him to be. In which case I’ll never see him again. But first, I intend to speak with him. Not once did he share the details of his unpopularity with me. He simply concluded I would not choose a man whom Society would not welcome and determined, therefore, that the past didn’t matter.”
Margaret shook her head. “Men can be so thick sometimes.” She puffed out a breath. “They think they know best and deny us the chance to make an informed decision.”
Suspecting her friend might be speaking from experience, Eve made a mental note to ask her to elaborate on that point later. For now, however, she had a difficult earl to contend with. “I love him though. So if I’m right and he never did ruin Miss Edwina Jenkins, he’d better prepare himself for a few choice words and a hard fight on my part.”
“You hope to marry him, don’t you?”
“I think it goes without saying. If he’ll have me, that is.” She didn’t even dare suppose he wouldn’t.
“He’d be a fool not to,” Margaret told her loyally. “But Society’s opinion about him is highly unlikely to change, which means, even if he is innocent, you will still become the face of scandal as soon as word of your engagement gets around. Have you considered how this will impact not only you but your sisters?”
Squaring her shoulders, Eve quietly nodded. “It is not what they would have wanted, but on the other hand, their greatest wish is for me to be happy and well taken care of. And perhaps, since I would not be requiring a Season, their financial concerns would be eased a little. Plus, I’m sure Ravenworth would help Josephine keep the house in London. And regarding our social position, it might be time for us to accept that our lives will never be what they once were. What matters is we have each other and friends like you, who would never turn their back on us no matter what.”
“I could never do so,” Margaret whispered. “I will back whatever decision you make for yourself, Eve.”
“Then let us go downstairs.” Eve rose with resolve. “It’s time for me to confront Ravenworth.”
Bryce had just poured himself his third glass of brandy when Mrs. Havisham entered the parlor with a much more approachable demeanor than she’d exuded earlier. She offered her husband a fleeting glance before directing her attention at Bryce. “Miss Potter would like to have a word with you,” she said. “She is waiting in the library.”
This, he had not expected. “In the library?” When Mrs. Havisham nodded, Bryce set down his glass. He considered Mr. Havisham, with whom he’d actually been enjoying a political debate during the absence of female company.
The man now frowned. “Are you sure that would be proper?” he asked his wife.
“Not entirely,” Mrs. Havisham said, “but I do think we ought to allow it.”
Mr. Havisham hesitated briefly, then addressed Bryce. “I must confess, you’re different from what I expected, so I’ll concede to Miss Potter’s wishes if you agree to leave the door wide open.”
“Of course.”
Bryce left the room with a quick stride which brought him to the library in a matter of seconds. Stepping inside, he drew to a halt when he spotted Eve. She was sitting in one of the armchairs next to the fire, with her foot propped up on a cushioned stool. Bryce drank in her profile–the smooth curve of her cheek and the careful sweep of her nose. Her golden hair came alive in the glow from the crackling flames, tempting him to cross the floor with haste so he might touch it.
Instead, he held himself perfectly still. Inside his chest, his heart ached with the knowledge that once this conversation was over, she would leave Ravenworth Manor together with the Havishams. She would leave him. And upon this realization, he felt his entire world begin to crumble, the facets of his life disassembling to the point where he would be left a raw and tortured mess.
She must have sensed his presence, for she turned her head to look at him, her expression so firm and serious his insides quaked a little with apprehension.
Nevertheless, he took a step forward. “Mrs. Havisham said you wished to see me.”
“I do.” Her eyes, a darker shade of blue than usual, locked onto his. “Come join me.”
He went toward her on leaden feet. For reasons he couldn’t explain, he felt like a young lad about to be chastised as he’d once been for painting the floor with marmalade. Reaching her side, he lowered himself into the adjacent chair and gestured toward her foot. “How is it feeling?”
“It’s more tolerable than it was before. I made it down the stairs without too much trouble, though it did begin to ache a bit by the time I arrived here. The warmth from the fire seems to help.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” Even if it would make her walk away from him faster. He drew a labored breath and pushed it back out past the tightness in his throat. “Are you ready to go to Amberly then?”
She pinched her lips together and frowned. For a second, his heart went utterly still and he began to imagine her telling him she’d never be ready to do so, that she would stay here with him and face whatever consequences were bound to arise.
Instead she gestured with her hand and said, “Come closer.”
Eyeing her, he wondered at her curious request and her tone. “Why?”
“Because I am asking you to.”
Hesitating briefly, he finally acquiesced and leaned forward slightly. So did she, and for one delightful moment, he expected her to breach the rest of the distance and kiss him. Instead her fist made contact with his shoulder in an unexpectedly hard punch for a woman of her size, and he instinctively pulled back. “What the he—” He clamped his mouth shut around the rest of the expletive. “You hit me. Again.”
“And I may do so once more if you continue to be so impossible to deal with.” Her eyes narrowed to a pair of reproachful slits, while a few stray strands of hair fell over her brow, curling beside her ear.
Bryce’s heart beat faster. His muscles flexed, and his body grew tight while desire surged through him. Christ, he’d not imagined he’d ever be so aroused by a woman’s high temper, but the fact was his blood was running hot, and damn it all, he was tempted in ways that would not be easy to explain if he succumbed to impulse. So he did his best to focus on what she was saying, except her lips were proving to be an inconvenient distraction. They continued to shape her words with the most enticing movements.
“Are you even listening?” she asked, adding a glare.
“Hmm?”
She rolled her eyes. “How are we going to deal with this if you refuse to cooperate?”
He could think of several ways, all of which would indeed involve his full cooperation. “Forgive me,” he murmured. “My mind began to wander.”
Tilting her head, she gave him a curious look before settling back in her chair with a sigh. “I want you to explain to me why everyone thinks you stole Miss Edwina Jenkins’ virginity.”
Well. There was a sobering thought to draw him out of his lust-induced state. Bryce steeled himself before saying, “Mrs. Havisham mentioned that, did she?” He’d expected her to, yet it still bothered him she had. He did not like Eve knowing about his dark and dirty secret.
“What I cannot comprehend is that you did not!”
And as she said it, he knew she wasn’t merely angry with him for hiding this from her, but also thoroughly hurt. “Eve…” He scarcely knew what to say. So he reached out toward her. When she didn’t retr
eat, he allowed his hand to settle over hers. “The days you and I have spent together have been incredible. It was as if you cracked open the tomb in which I’d been buried and brought me back to life. I didn’t want you to treat me with the same contempt everyone else did, but to simply enjoy the brief time we had together without judgment or prejudice.”
“You still should have told me,” she said. Her gaze rose toward his.
Framed by long lashes, her eyes blinked away tears. Bryce felt his heart break for the pain he was causing. “How could I,” he asked, without knowing precisely what to say or where this conversation would lead. His fingers closed more tightly around her hand. “Losing your respect was not a risk I was willing to take. I’m sorry, but it’s the truth.”
She bowed her head, and he imagined she might be looking at their entwined fingers. The fact she didn’t retreat was a comfort. It made him feel more grounded somehow, as if he might not fly away in the storm of emotion assailing his world. And then she raised her gaze to his, and he caught his breath as clarity brightened her eyes and eased the strain of her features. “Did it ever occur to you,” she asked, “that I might believe your side of the story?”
Stunned, he shook his head. “No.”
“Then let us start over. I want you to tell me exactly and very precisely what led to the inconceivable notion you might be capable of doing what you’ve been accused of.”
He stared at her, and he could not seem to stop staring. “Why on earth...” He blinked, shook his head, and met her gaze once more. “Why on earth would you choose to ignore what everyone else is saying when even your friend, whom I assume you trust, believes I’m a no good scoundrel.”
“Because I’ve gotten to know you these past few days, and because I believe I can say with confidence you would never force your attentions on an innocent woman, no matter how tempted you might be to do so.” She gave him a frank look. “Not unless you were willing to marry her.”
His breath hissed from his lungs, his entire body sagging beneath the weight of her meaningful words. “You’re right. Keeping my hands off of you has been no simple task,” he confessed, delighting in how easily she blushed in response. “But it would have been wrong of me not to do so.”
The Earl Who Loved Her (The Honorable Scoundrels Book 2) Page 6