The Three Evesham Daughters: Books 1-3: A Regency Romance Trilogy

by Audrey Ashwood

  For a moment, she was puzzled, because his deep, sonorous voice reminded her of something, but the noise of the carriages and the conversations of the passers-by prevented her from thinking clearly. “Stop doing that,” Rose said between clenched teeth. “Why do you have to be so friendly? Can you not just be the old crank who despises me?” The last part of her sentence flew out of her mouth like a cry of desperation. Not only did it cause a young woman holding two children by the hands to turn to her in indignation, but also, for Lord de Vere to stop dead in the middle of the pavement. Once again, his dark eyes had taken on that disturbing glow.

  “I probably deserve to be called a crank,” he admitted, giving her a smile that made Rose want to burst into tears. “But I have never despised you, and I assure you that even now, at this very moment, I feel nothing of the sort.”

  But? Rose wanted to ask. However, before her tell-tale mouth could ask the question, her mind intervened and ordered her to remain silent. A man with an absurdly big stovepipe hat stepped around the marquess, grumbling, but he paid no attention to the passer-by, but instead looked Rose in the face, half-questioningly, half-expectantly. Since she remained silent, he started walking again and, whether she wanted to or not, Rose went along. He was walking faster than before, taking long strides, his broad shoulders straight and his back rigid.

  “Here we are,” he said, stating the obvious.

  This was not a bad thing, because thoughts were spinning in circles in Rose’s mind like the figurines on a new-fangled clockwork music box. With a lurching heart, Rose stared at the entrance, which she had crossed many times in the company of her parents. This time, everything was different. But, she reminded herself, she was not completely alone. Mrs Prisson, whose unobtrusive presence Rose had almost forgotten, moved nearer. Given her stern features, Rose could not tell what she thought of her being accompanied by the Marquess of Cavanaugh to visit her fiancé. Rose felt enormous gratitude in her heart for the presence of the older woman.

  Yet, all at once, she wished she could accept the marquess’s offer of taking her back. She wanted to bury her head in her pillow, sleep and forget everything. He seemed to sense her fear, for he briefly squeezed her hand and nodded encouragingly.

  “I know that this wisdom is of no comfort to you, but it is better to know the truth, even if it hurts.”

  “You are right, it is of no comfort,” Rose said, feeling a tiny bit lighter in her heart. Mrs Prisson caught up, and they all stood in front of the entrance, looking at the door behind which the truth lay hidden. “Let us go in.” She lifted her chin, the gesture covering up her trembling voice. Five minutes, maybe ten, and the ordeal would be over.

  But in a strange, twisted way, the idea did not lift her spirits.

  Chapter 16

  Gabriel was as happy as Lady Rose that the brief walk through the most prestigious part of London had finally come to an end, and they had arrived at de Coucy’s townhouse. Had he really believed that his feelings for Lady Rose were a simple weakness that he could overcome by self-control until her enchantment had worn off? The short walk had done nothing of the kind, only proving to him that he was starting to truly like her. Her stubbornness, for example, or the directness that prompted her to call him a crank. He did not think of Lady Rose, by any means, as a flawless being, on the contrary – her impulsiveness got her into trouble more often than she would have liked; also, her loyalty to de Coucy had a negative side – she firmly refused to consider for even one second that she could have been wrong.

  At the door of de Coucy’s townhouse they were greeted by disappointment, though this was more the case for Gabriel’s companion than for him. His secret pleasure of spending more time in her company vanished when he saw the discouragement on her face.

  He declined the butler’s offer to wait for his master and asked him for de Coucy’s current whereabouts. “I cannot tell you exactly, my Lord,” the man said with a sidelong glance at Lady Rose, who reacted immediately and took a few steps back. “Lord de Coucy went first to his club and then to a dog fight in the King’s Head.”

  “Thank you,” Gabriel replied, discretely tossing a coin into the man’s hand. It struck him as strange that de Coucy wanted to see a dog fight, of all things. It did not suit a man who preferred casual pleasures and loathed everything that was loud, dirty, and foul. Still, if the butler had said so, they should at least give the search a try – better than idly standing by, it seemed to Gabriel.

  “Where is he?” Lady Rose came straight to the point when the door had closed.

  Gabriel hesitated. He knew exactly what she would ask him once she learned de Coucy’s whereabouts, and he was sure her parents would not approve of her being in a dark tavern in Whitechapel. On the contrary, he was equally convinced that she would set off on her own into one of London’s most disreputable neighbourhoods to find her worthless fiancé. Accompanied by Mrs Prisson, the journey might just be feasible, especially if he left the ladies waiting in the carriage. Keeping the dog fight from Lady Rose was also no solution, given the bribable butler. “He was going to his club,” her face brightened, “and then to the King’s Head. It is a pub in Whitechapel,” Gabriel added as explanation.

  Rose frowned. “What is he doing there?”

  Her question sounded so innocent that he hesitated again. “He is meeting his friends there to place a bet, I assume.”

  “In a tavern? I know that men will bet on anything, but he could have done so in the club or on the racetrack.” She linked arms with him and looked around for her chaperone. Gabriel suspected that Mrs Prisson was pretending not to hear even half of what Rose said. The question was, why would Mrs Prisson close her eyes when her protégé was toeing the line of decency? He had the suspicion that the lady would intervene very quickly, if the risk to Rose’s future was too great. “Ah, there it is. I can see your carriage. That is most fitting – we will not waste any more time.”

  “I must warn you. The King’s Head is not a place for a lady.” He felt obliged to say.

  “Then all the better that you and Mrs Prisson will be with me and can cover my eyes if need be, should things happen that you think I should not see.” Her blue eyes sparkled. Could it be that she was enjoying this adventure as much as he was? His heart leapt in his chest as they looked at each other for the shortest of moments and imagined they were nothing but Lady Rose and the Marquess of Cavanaugh, out on a walk one fine day.

  “You can count on me,” he eventually replied.

  “I know that,” she said softly.

  The clip-clop of the arriving coach broke the spell and mercilessly brought them back to the present.

  “Coachman,” he shouted, raising his walking stick to catch his carriage driver’s attention. Moments later, they were on their way to Whitechapel.

  This time, they sat side by side with Mrs Prisson opposite them. She looked out of the window and said nothing. He felt Rose’s slim arm against his and enjoyed the silence between them, which had taken on a different quality, almost as if they were allies on a common mission and not opponents. Time and again, Lady Rose looked inquiringly into his face, until after a while, she broke the silence.

  “What will your sister do, if Richard does not prove to be the father of the child?” Rose whispered. She did not look at him but kept her eyes on the back seat opposite her.

  “That is impossible,” he growled as quietly as she did, though he did not think Mrs Prisson would divulge his secret. He had heard that she had served as a chaperone as early as in the duchess’s time. She seemed more like a confidante than a paid watchdog. “De Coucy is guilty. The question of an alternative does not arise.” Rose uttered a sound of surprise and half-turned her head towards him. “My sister is ruined, if she does not marry the man who seduced her. I have considered sending her to the countryside and giving the child to guardians, but such stories have the unfortunate tendency of resurfacing at the most inopportune moment.”

  “I did not ask what you are p
lanning to do, but what your sister will do,” she corrected him, although surprisingly meek by her standards. “I understand that you care about Lady Henrietta’s future, but why don’t you talk to her and ask for her own opinion?”

  “I have tried that,” Gabriel replied heatedly. “But she refuses to give me a reasonable answer.”

  “I am not surprised.”

  “Because I am such a grump who even intimidates his own sister,” he stated, only hinting that it was a question.

  “No, but because, like most men, you think that women should not make choices about their own lives. Besides, it may not be a question that can be answered with reason, but only with the heart.”

  “You mean, Henrietta fell in love with de Coucy? That is absurd.”

  A little wrinkle formed between her brows. “I do not think so,” she countered, sliding a little more to the side to better scrutinise him. “Richard is equipped with a lot of charm.” He could barely hold back in letting out a derogatory snort. “And unlike you, he believes that God has given women a mind to use, not just for housekeeping or worshipping their husbands.”

  “Are you sure that we are talking about the same man?” He could not refrain from the question.

  “I was wrong about you,” Lady Rose noted. “You are not a grump by any means, you are simply audacious.” The corners of her mouth twitched and took the sting out of the rebuke.

  “The way you put it, Richard could easily pass as an advocate of the women’s movement,” he replied. Now it was time to take advantage of the favourable situation and find out why she had committed herself to de Coucy. He became serious. “What is wrong with me worrying about my sister’s future and just wanting the best for her?” The best was certainly not Richard de Coucy, whether there was a case of paternity or not.

  “There is nothing wrong with that,” Rose responded. “Everyone cares about the people they love most. But unlike you, Richard would not fail to give Henrietta a choice.”

  “Is that the reason why you love him? Because he allows you liberties?”

  Her cheeks turned red as he could see, even in the semi-darkness of the closed cab. The mute Mrs Prisson gave a disapproving snort. For a moment, his eyes met those of the chaperone, then she turned to gaze out the window of the coach again.

  “It is not fitting to question a lady about her feelings,” Rose told him. Out of the corner of his eye, Gabriel saw a tiny, satisfied smile appear on the face of her chaperone. Quieter, she continued, “I will answer your question, anyway. Perhaps my answer will dispel your constant doubts about Lord de Coucy’s honour. Richard…” Rose fell silent and ran her tongue over her lower lip. Then she took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders determinedly. “You know it was me who took the first step, you do not have to deny it.” By this, she meant the message that had started it all. “He never criticised me for it. Not a single word that could be considered blameworthy has passed his lips because I behaved in a way that most gentlemen consider inappropriate. Richard has never taken advantage of my… initiative but instead, given me plenty of time to be absolutely and one hundred percent sure of my intent before we became engaged.”

  Gabriel gritted his teeth as he heard praise for the man he loathed more than anyone else. But he had challenged her reaction and could not take back his casual words. “In one respect, you are absolutely right. Two years is a long time. I admit that.”

  “Why does everything that you say sound disparaging? I understand that you have no sympathy for him, because you have to assume that he seduced Lady Henrietta. Really, I am trying to see it from your point of view,” she gasped out angrily. “But you know nothing about Richard and me. Nothing.”

  Nothing except that she thought she had kissed de Coucy, while in truth, it was his lips she had felt on hers. “What you consider a virtue, his so-called tolerance of your escapades, I call indifference. If the desire to safeguard my sister’s future and actively care for her happiness is a sin, then I plead guilty. I would rather try too hard and fail than watch Henrietta run into her misfortune.”

  Lady Rose opened her mouth to bid defiance, but at that moment, the wheels of the coach came to a standstill. They were in Whitechapel.

  He had the task of guiding her safely through the hell of depravity.

  Chapter 17

  It stank. Rose, who was about to get out, felt the hand of her chaperone on her arm. “You should better wait here and let him…” Mrs Prisson nodded to the marquess, “settle the matter on his own, my child.” As a long-standing employee of the Evesham’s, Mrs Prisson had earned the privilege of the familiar form of address.

  “I know,” Rose replied, “but I cannot sit here and do nothing. You understand that, do you not?” The hand around her arm slackened, then, Mrs Prisson sighed and got out first.

  Rose fought the fear that was spreading through her heart as she followed her chaperone out of the carriage. The unfamiliar loud and lively environment scared her, even if she would never in her life admit to that before the marquess. What was Richard doing in an area like this? Scantily dressed and rather unkempt women waited by the side of the road and winked at her companion, while a horde of children crowded around them both and stared at them with dull eyes. A particularly small, gaunt girl touched the fabric of Rose’s coat, awestruck, leaving a trail of sticky dirt on it – but instead of being angry, Rose’s heart was torn to pieces. She fumbled in her handbag for the coins she had taken as a precaution and handed them out to the children.

  The gut-wrenching sight of the skinny children even repressed her simmering feelings towards the marquess, who was also giving out coins. Rose longed for the moment when they finally found Richard and could talk to him. Then, the unfortunate matter would be cleared up. The marquess, who held her close to his side, brought calm to the turmoil of the children’s voices with a single gesture. “The ladies and I are looking for the place where the dog fight is taking place. Which of you can take us there?” Thin little arms stretched up into the air. Even the little girl, who had touched Rose’s coat and had been pushed to the side by the stronger children, hesitantly raised her hand. Rose squeezed the marquess’s arm and pointed to the girl.

  “Come here,” he beckoned her over to him. “You others have the job of looking after the cab while we are gone. If I find the carriage safe and sound upon my return, you will each get a sixpence.” He handed the coins to the man in the driver’s seat. “The coachman will look after the money until I get back.” Rose saw him wink at the man, then exchange a friendly nod with him.

  “What is your name?” Rose asked, leaning down to the girl, who instinctively backed away. Rose ignored the stench rising from the pavement and inelegantly lowered herself to the child’s eye level, taking the girl’s greasy little mitt in her gloved right hand.

  “Ann, m’Lady,” she stammered.

  “That is a wonderful name,” Rose assured her, secretly wondering what was wrong with her. She had never had a close relationship with children, but something about the girl struck an unsung chord in her heart. “Please take us to where the dog fight is taking place.” She straightened up.

  “You could have told me,” she hissed to Cavanaugh. Dog fighting was one of the cruellest entertainment opportunities Rose could imagine. Even her father, who was by no means sentimental, abhorred men who set two innocent creatures upon one another until one of them was unable to stand.

  “Would that have changed anything? You would have still insisted on coming.”

  “You are right,” she admitted. “Nevertheless, you could have warned me.”

  “I can still put you in the carriage and send you back home. Believe me, right now, I have got a good mind on doing so.”

  “I think that is an excellent idea,” Mrs Prisson intervened, unexpectedly, but a pluck on her coat kept Rose from answering. It was Ann who looked up at her and smiled shyly. A quick glance showed her that the other children had actually done what the marquess had ordered them to do and had
grouped around the cab like little guards.

  “Let us get this over with. Ann, show us the way.”

  Ann led them into a back alley that was perhaps even dirtier than the Whitechapel pavement. Even as she made her way through the filth, Rose heard the shouting and roaring of the men cheering for their favourites. There was an abject howling, followed by a collective groan of disappointed spectators. Rose felt the colour fade away from her face, and she clung tighter and tighter to Lord Cavanaugh’s arm while Ann moved forward, as if listening to a dying dog was part of her daily routine. The moaning had become a whimper that, to Rose’s ears, came very close to the cry of a baby.

  “My Lady, that is enough. Wait in the cab. Upon my honour, I will only look for de Coucy but then question him together with you.” Rose heard her chaperone approvingly agree with him. She knew that she was testing the woman’s patience and could soon expect no further leniency.

  Nevertheless, the marquess was impossible. Was he only capable of extremes? Could he not even be fairly friendly or fairly rude? Instead, he was either very, very ghastly or very, very lovable, but never average.

  Rose nearly choked when she realised what she was thinking and disguised her inner turmoil as a cough. “It is all right,” she insisted, but this time, her protest went unheard.

  Mrs Prisson hooked her arm under Rose’s while the marquess turned on his heels and set off back to the carriage.

  “Are you coming, or would you like me to throw you over my shoulder like a sack and carry you to the carriage?”

  Mrs Prisson snorted.

  “You would not dare,” Rose whispered, but she saw the answer on his face and gave way. Nobody, not even Ann, who did not let Rose out of her sight, seemed to find anything strange about a man and a woman having an argument out on the street. The thought that nobody cared how His Excellency conducted himself with her was sobering. Although Rose went with him, he did not hesitate to open the door of the carriage, grab her by the waist, and hand-deliver her to the seat.