Eve hadn’t even been aware he’d gone ashore until his brother broke into the room while they were bathing. Other than the short conversation between the earl and his brother while they were there, Eve knew nothing of what happened.
“She is right.” An unwelcome warmth spread through Eve.
Lord Rushton looked at her. “Do you think so?”
She imagined him pointing a pistol at the slavers to save the boys as he had Lord Halifax when he’d saved her, and the warmth intensified. “I do.”
He shrugged. “I had little choice in the matter. My companions took the matter very personally.”
“What?” Eve frowned. “How could they take it any more personally than you?”
“Press gangs prey on the lower classes.”
“But there is nothing to force the upper class to stop them as you did,” she said.
“You couldn’t be more wrong. It was far less trouble to free the boys than face their parents with the news their sons had been kidnapped into slavery.”
The answer was ridiculous, and he was clearly going out of his way to be irritating.
“You are purposely provoking her,” Juliet said, and Eve wanted to kiss her.
She had already decided she liked both girls. The youngest was still a child, but sweet, if not a little spoiled. Juliet was a young woman with a mind to match her brother’s. Eve startled at the thought. When had she decided Lord Rushton had a mind that considered anything beyond the next feminine conquest? Perhaps last night, when she realized that Lord Somerset was in love with Grace. It was the epiphany that brought her to the realization that she had become another of Lord Rushton’s conquests by foolishly falling in love with him.
“She’s right, Rush,” the marchioness said. “Behave.”
A corner of the earl’s mouth twitched and the mischief that appeared in his eyes made Eve feel she was seeing the thirteen-year-old earl instead of the grown man. He looked at her and his eyes darkened, and Eve knew she was once again looking at the man. She returned her attention to her plate. The marchioness was right. She should retire to her room once supper ended.
The door opened and a maid appeared. “Forgive me, laird,” she addressed the marquess, “there is a man here to see you.”
“At this hour? Who is it?” he demanded.
“Lord Tolland.”
Eve gasped in unison with Grace’s, “Papa?”
“It seems our guest list is complete.” Lord Rushton started to rise.
“Sit down,” his father ordered.
“Sir, I owe it to the baron to explain,” Lord Rushton said.
“This is a matter for him and me to discuss,” his father replied. “You have no more say.”
Eve’s heart pounded. How much say did she have?
“Forgive me, my lord,” Grace said. “Surely we should speak to our father. He must be frantic with worry.”
The marquess grunted as he rose. “No doubt. But I will speak with him first. I’ll call for you when we are finished.”
“Sir,” Grace began again, but she was cut off by the marchioness.
“Ladies, we must leave the gentlemen to their business.”
“You will remember what I said earlier,” the earl said.
The marquess didn’t reply, but Eve’s heart pounded harder. What had he said earlier?
Despite Camilla’s pleas to be allowed to adjourn to the drawing room with the adults, the girls were sent to their bedchambers. Grace had asked the two men to play cards. Lord Rushton declined, settling instead on the couch in front of the large hearth centered in the east wall, a book in hand. Lord Somerset agreed to a game of piquet and the two sat in the far corner of the mammoth room where burned a fire in a small hearth near one of three card tables.
Eve prowled the room, taking in the magnificent tapestries that hung on the walls. She was no expert, but it was clear the battle scenes depicted on the faded fabric were at least a hundred years old. Whether the tapestry had been woven when the battles took place, or later in an attempt to capture days long past, there was no doubt they were quite old.
She turned from the last tapestry to see Lord Rushton stretched out on the couch, ankle over ankle. His eyes were closed in slumber and the open book on his chest lifted with each breath he took. He had exchanged the buckskin breeches for dark trousers, which hid the muscled thighs little better than had the breeches. His softened features were just as compelling as the hard lines that were present even when he smiled.
His eyes opened and Eve was startled into immobility. His eyes focused, then darkened and heat spread through her stomach. She tore free of the trance and whirled. She feared she would stumble and make a fool of herself, for she knew his gaze followed her. But she managed a casual stroll until she left his line of sight, then continued to the settee near the French doors leading to the balcony.
Eve sat down before realizing she should have taken one of the books from the shelves. But they were near Lord Rushton and she wasn’t going anywhere near him tonight—or ever again—if she could avoid it. A few minutes later, the marchioness rose from her chair near the shelves and came to sit down on the settee near Eve.
“How are you feeling, my dear?”
“I am fine, ma’am.”
“You look tired,” she said with genuine concern in her voice.
“It has been a tiring week,” Eve admitted.
“Is this your first trip to Scotland?”
Eve thought of her elopement with Blane, but said, “Yes, it is.”
“Then you have not yet seen Edinburgh.”
“I hear it is beautiful.”
“It is,” the marchioness replied. “But no more beautiful than Mull. However, the shopping is far better in Edinburgh. It might surprise you to learn that fashion flies as high in Edinburgh as it does in London.”
“I am sure it does.” There was a faint noise beyond the front door and Eve jerked her head in that direction.
When no one entered, Lady Rushton said, “There is no use fretting. They’ll return when they have concluded their business.”
“It has been nearly an hour. What could possibly be taking so long?
“A marriage settlement is a serious negotiation,” the marchioness said.
“Surely they must consult the parties involved?” Eve blurted.
The marchioness laughed. “Unlike our Scottish counterparts, we Englishwomen have no sway in such matters.”
“It is easy to be blasé about being married off to a stranger when it is not happening to you.”
“True,” she said with another laugh. “But it did happen to me. I didn’t meet Justin until a week before the wedding and by then the terms of the contract had been negotiated down to the pound and had been signed by all parties.”
Eve knew that, amongst the wealthier set, marriages were often conducted with the bride and groom near strangers, but she didn’t run in such circles, so had never imagined such a fate for herself. Eve longed to ask if any affection had grown between them. It was clear she and the marquess were on civil terms, but Eve couldn’t discern if they cared for one another.
“You signed a marriage contract before meeting your prospective husband?” she asked as casually as she could.
“Justin was more than a prospective husband,” the marchioness said. “We were betrothed for nearly a year and the banns had been read.” They were alone on their side of the room, but Lady Rushton leaned toward Eve and murmured, “You must know that many couples do not wait for the ceremony to consummate the marriage, for the vows are a mere technicality at that point.”
Yes, Eve knew all too well about consummating the marriage before taking the vows.
The marchioness straightened. “That was not the case with us, however. Justin was kind in that regard. Between my trepidation concerning the wedding night and my anger toward my father for selling me off, I was not the most congenial bride.”
“I fear I will be like you if…” Eve let her words trail
off.
Lady Rushton gave her a frank look. “But your situation is not exactly like mine. I was…shall we say, innocent. You are not.”
Eve stiffened. “Indeed, my lady. Though I cannot say how closely the rumors resemble the truth.”
“I understand that you were with Erroll at Gretna Green, and he fought a duel in defense of your honor.”
Embarrassment washed over Eve. “He told me he would make a terrible husband and that he would leave me in Scotland, then go about his life as he always had in London.”
“Rubbish,” Lady Rushton said. “He would never do that.”
“How was I to know?” How could she know now?
“Given Rush’s reputation, I can see how you would think him a bad candidate as a husband,” her ladyship said. “Sadly, neither your ignorance nor the fact that he was innocent of your sister’s accusations will change the reality that you are compromised beyond repair.”
“Grace was compromised—at least in the eyes of Society,” Eve said. “It is just as likely that she will marry his lordship.”
“Do you think your sister is a more likely candidate?” Lady Rushton asked.
Eve was startled by the question. Did Lady Rushton know something? “Grace would make a fine countess, and she wants to marry him.”
“I do like your sister.”
“Really? I am relieved to hear that.”
“Is there a reason I shouldn’t like her?” the marchioness asked.
“None at all. But you never know which way the wind will blow in such matters.”
“So true. I was petrified to meet Justin’s mother.”
“How did you find her?” Eve asked.
“Quite amiable—despite the fact I am English—and I vowed I would be the same to my son’s wife, if at all possible.”
“That is kind of you.”
“I like you as well,” she said. “You would make a fine daughter-in-law.”
“But I would make a terrible wife.”
“I think it isn’t so much that you would make a terrible wife, as it is that you would make Rush a terrible wife,” her ladyship said.
“That is true,” Eve said, surprised by her understanding.
“Do you feel this way because he said he would leave you in Scotland?” the marchioness asked.
Because he said he would go on with his pleasures as he always had, Eve thought, and, truth be told, she would care. Eve released a sigh. “Perhaps it is better I say no more.”
“I see. Your reasons do not flatter him.”
Or herself, for that matter. What bubble-headed woman cared about a man who competed for the title of London’s worst rake? “I am afraid not,” Eve said.
“Do you plan to take lovers?”
Eve blinked. “No, of course not.”
“Then you would make a good wife,” Lady Rushton said.
Eve thought of Grace’s plan to take lovers, and asked, “Is that the only requirement for a good wife?”
“No, but is it one in which a woman often falls short.”
“I could spend all his money,” Eve said.
Lady Rushton laughed. “Not unless you have a weakness for gambling. Do you play cards?”
Eve grimaced. “Too tedious.”
“Marvelous. Then you cannot condemn Rush to the poor house.”
“I could harangue him mercilessly.”
“Many a wife has done just that to her husband, but if you succeed you will, indeed, be rid of him.”
“Does the earl share these same philosophies?”
“Certainly not about being nagged into an early grave, and I imagine that if he truly thought you were spending too much money he would leave you here on Mull.”
The idea gave Eve pause. Grace believed it was a woman’s duty to spend her husband’s money. Lord Rushton hadn’t batted an eye over the clothes they purchased in Belfast, but the truth was, they hadn’t spent a great deal of money. Grace had no idea what a budget was. Eve had realized that the earl and Grace were a lot alike, but men didn’t want a woman who was like them. Men might view marriage as a business, but they expected their wives to view them as their masters.
“Many wives take lovers and spend their husband’s money frivolously,” Eve said. “It is the way of Society.”
“Indeed it is,” Lady Rushton replied. “But Rush would not tolerate it.”
The door unexpectedly opened and Eve jumped before realizing the newcomer was a maid and not her father or the marquess. The girl scanned the room and when her eyes lit on the marchioness, she started toward them. Grace rose and she too crossed to their seats.
She arrived as the maid did, and the marchioness said, “What is it, Adrian?”
“The laird says not to wait up for them.”
“Is everything all right?” Grace asked.
“I am sure everything is fine,” her ladyship said. “Thank you, Adrian.”
Grace stared after the girl as she left the room. “I cannot understand what could possibly be taking so long.” Grace’s gaze shifted to the couch where Lord Rushton slept.
“How are you doing at cards?” Lady Rushton said. “Are you winning?”
Grace looked at her and smiled. “I think Lord Somerset is letting me win.”
“Then he is a true gentleman. Are you tired? Do you wish to retire? Or would you prefer to continue playing a little longer?”
She glanced at Lord Somerset, who waited at the card table. “We are in the middle of a game…”
“Then you should finish,” Lady Rushton said. “It would be rude to leave a gentleman in the middle of a game.”
Grace glanced again in Lord Rushton’s direction, then said, “You are right, of course. We shall finish this game, then I will retire—if that is all right with you?”
The marchioness smiled. “Quite all right.” Grace returned to the game and the marchioness said to Eve, “What of you, my dear? Should you retire for the evening?”
“I should like to see my father before I go to bed.”
Lady Rushton’s gaze shifted and Eve followed her line of sight. Lord Rushton approached.
“Erroll.” His mother’s eyes lit with pleasure and she extended her hands. He caught both hands, brought them to his lips at once and kissed her fingers. Eve didn’t miss the squeeze he gave her fingers before he released them or the delight in his eyes.
He pulled one of the chairs from the nearest card table and placed it near Eve’s side of the settee. “Getting nervous, Miss Crenshaw?”
She scowled. “Do not goad me, sir. You will make me look bad in front of your mother, which will only force me to make you pay later.” Eve looked at the marchioness. “Forgive me, ma’am. I have no doubt he is a paragon of a son, but he is a beastly suitor.”
“Suitor?” he repeated.
“It is not a compliment,” Eve said.
“I admit, we got off to a bad start,” he replied. “That part was not my fault.”
“Yes it was.”
“She is right,” the marchioness said.
“Really?” he said, as if surprised his mother agreed.
“You entered her room uninvited.”
“I was only defending myself,” the earl said placidly.
“You went there to browbeat Grace,” Eve retorted.
“I went there to confront my accuser.”
“A gentleman would have faced the lady’s father instead of accosting her in her bedchambers.”
“She has a point,” Lady Rushton said.
“Guilty as charged.” His eyes darkened. “I am no gentleman, and I have not been innocent since—”
“Erroll,” his mother admonished.
He grinned. “I am not that much of a cad, Mother.”
“Beware,” she said, “you do not want to face my wrath later.”
His eyes widened. “Quite right.”
The marchioness turned to Eve. “Did you have a chance to see any of the castle today?”
“Only the great hall,
which your son showed me after Lord Burns left.”
“Lord Burns? He was here today?”
“Yes. Did Lord Rushton not tell you?”
She looked at him. “What happened?”
“Nothing of consequence. Burns was concerned that Hilary was paying too much attention to his son.”
“He is right. She was.”
“Really?” Lord Rushton’s brow furrowed. “Since when did Hilary become interested in men?”
“Since she turned seventeen.”
“Seventeen?” Surprise shown on his face. “She grew up while I was away.”
“I shall speak with Hilary.” The marchioness regarded him. “Actually, I think you should speak to her.”
“Me?”
Eve saw genuine alarm in his eyes.
“What do I know of seventeen year old girls?”
“You were once a nineteen-year-old boy, which I believe is the boy’s age.”
“Mother, I do not think I—”
“No arguments,” she cut in. “Hilary adores you. With David gone she could use a little guidance from a brother.”
“Burns mentioned David was gone. How long?”
“Two years.”
“I’m surprised his father let him go. He is the only heir.”
“You know David. He was insistent.”
“Young fool,” Lord Rushton muttered. “He could easily have avoided the madness.”
“Young fools seldom avoid madness,” the marchioness remarked.
Lord Rushton’s expression cleared. “You wouldn’t by chance be referring to me?”
“You are, without a doubt, a young fool,” she said.
Her tone was light, but Eve was startled to detect a note of melancholy.
Lord Rushton straightened. “Mother, I—” He stared for a long instant, apparently forgetting that Eve was there, then broke off and leaned back against his chair. “Forgive me. I am worse than a fool.”
Eve suddenly understood the byplay was due to the lady’s sorrow in losing her youngest son. Eve grasped the marchioness’ hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I…” Eve released a sigh. “There is no consolation, is there?”
Lady Rushton looked at her, clearly surprised, but a gentle smile touched her lips. She returned Eve’s hand squeeze. “Nothing else is needed.”
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