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

by Audrey Ashwood

  “I, um, think someone is asking for me,” Richard’s friend said, pointing at no one in particular and without specifying who it was that wanted to speak to him so urgently. He turned on his heels and – there was no other way to describe it – took flight.

  Rose let out a breath. “Thank you,” she said, noticing that she had already grabbed onto his arm like a drowning man onto a rescue rope.

  “All that is missing now, is Oberon to complete the déjà vu,” the marquess remarked.

  She laughed wobbly. “How is he?”

  “Good, but he misses you.” His dark eyes sparkled.

  “I would like to visit him.”

  “I am sure he would be glad to see you.” The fine lines at the corners of his eyes deepened as he smiled.

  They fell silent as people’s babbling and laughter swelled.

  “I would like to say hello to your sister,” Rose finally remarked.

  “Then I will try to fight our way out, my Lady.” That was, in fact, greatly exaggerated, because, first of all, the distance to the little group of three was quite short, and secondly … well, the marquess had a way of moving forwards that made everyone spontaneously give way to him.

  “Lady Rose,” his sister greeted her. Her cheeks turned red.

  “How nice to see you, Lady Henrietta,” Rose said quickly. She had not wanted to embarrass the other woman by her presence, so she put as much warmth into her words as she could. Lady Catherine was also present, and she and Rose exchanged a friendly greeting. Then, the marquess introduced her to the other man, a doctor named Hollingsworth. Without being able to put her finger on it, she thought to notice that something special connected him and Lady Catherine. Maybe it was the way they kept gazing at each other with fleeting glances.

  “Did you enjoy the play?” Rose aimed at the ladies. She realised that she was still holding onto his arm and wanted to let him go, but at that moment, the Marquess of Cavanaugh placed his left hand over hers as if he had read her mind. Through the glove, she felt the warmth of his touch.

  “Miss Taylor was tremendous as Juliet,” said Lady Henrietta.” Her mimic art was well expressive without the slightest exaggeration.”

  “I second that,” Rose agreed. “Her voice is wonderful. Buoyant and mellifluous.”

  The doctor nodded in agreement, and Catherine did the same a second later.

  “This kind of actress is only born once in a generation,” Lady Catherine interjected. Rose saw that Dr Hollingsworth turned to Lady Catherine as soon as her voice rang out and looked at her as if she had said something extraordinary, not merely conversational.

  “I just wished for a different Romeo,” she said quickly, trying to forget an obtrusive comparison, which forced itself upon her, of Lord de Coucy’s gazes. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a satisfied smile spread across the marquess’s face.

  “What did you dislike?” he enquired.

  “He did not feel what he was saying,” Rose said immediately. “He recited the verses without any feeling, and when he wanted to convey his love for Juliet to the audience, he crowed exaggeratedly, missing the right balance.”

  “He is a bawler,” said the marquess. “What do you expect?”

  Rose chuckled. She could not help it, even with his merciless assessment of one of the kingdom’s most famous actors. She looked up. His dark eyes found hers.

  A throat clearing made her flinch. “An evidently rather enraged young man is approaching you, Lady Rose,” said Dr Hollingsworth. “Is it possible that he is looking for you?”

  Without letting go of Gabriel’s arm, Rose turned around. Indeed, it was Richard de Coucy approaching them with the Marchioness of Glastonbury by his side.

  “Cavanaugh,” Richard said curtly, upon reaching their small group at the edge of the balustrade. “Lady Henrietta.”

  Rose introduced him and the marchioness to the doctor and Lady Catherine, but Lord de Coucy begrudged them with no more than an abrupt nod. Rather, his gaze lay upon her, to be more precise, on her hand, which the marquess still covered with his. Rose wanted to explain why she had fled from Eaglethorpe, but then she closed her mouth again.

  Richard was ungracious.

  Richard had left her alone with Eaglethorpe, who was clearly drunk, knowing that the man could barely stand.

  He did not answer her questions.

  He treated her like an object.

  Rose realised that she was staring at her fiancé, who had expectantly reached out his hand to her. She felt the tension in her arm and in the fingers of the marquess beside her.

  “I would like to chat a little more with Lady Henrietta,” she said, looking Richard in the face.

  “Yes, there must be plenty for Lady Henrietta to explain, is there not?” the marchioness intermeddled without being asked, giving the title by her emphasis a libellous undertone. Her gaze lingered too long on Lady Henrietta’s midsection to cast any doubt upon the true meaning of her words.

  The grip around her fingers tightened. Richard smiled crookedly.

  “When do you intend to retire to the country?” The rosebud-shaped mouth of the marchioness formed the words carefully. She did not do anything to dampen her volume.

  Henrietta was shaking. Rose saw that she could barely remain on her feet. Determined, she pulled her hand out from under the marquess, went over to Lady Henrietta’s side and put an arm around her waist, both to support the much larger woman and to show her partisanship. “My mother has invited the Marquess of Cavanaugh and his family to spend the Christmas days in Surrey with us, and I think we will depart early this year.” It was quite a while before the holidays, on the quick, Rose could not think of anything better to say. After a pause, just when the marchioness turned her icy-blue gaze to Rose like a reptile stalking its next prey, Rose continued, “There is currently simply too much rabble in town for my liking.” By her side, the marquess laughed mildly, but loud enough for the bystanders to take notice of his amusement. Again, it was not the wittiest of ripostes, but coupled with the wintry expression (that Rose had inherited from her mother) and a beaming smile, it was not without the desired effect. The marchioness unfolded her old-fashioned fan – allegedly handed down from the Sun King’s wife (her supposed ancestor) – and pointed it menacingly at Lady Henrietta, who had said nothing.

  Rose looked at the marchioness, long and hard. The marquess slipped in between them, hooking both their arms while his cousin and the doctor positioned themselves to their left and right. De Coucy took a step towards Rose, holding out his hand demandingly.

  The fan in the hand of the cold beauty began to quiver, unlike Richard’s hand. His gaze was in no way inferior to hers, neither in stoniness nor in length.

  “Lady Rose?” They were only three syllables, but they were enough to make Rose shudder.

  Gabriel made a slight turn until he was half-shielding her from Richard.

  “Rose?” Richard repeated louder, more impatiently. The first heads turned in their direction. Rose silently shook her head. Richard dropped his hand, turned on his heels, and gave her one last look as he went.

  She had won this battle, but the war that was just breaking out between them was not over yet.

  Chapter 26

  Gabriel watched as de Coucy and his cold-hearted companion moved away from them. Those who had stopped to watch, turned away and continued where they had left off, armed with a new, juicy bite of gossip.

  “Gabriel, I want to go.” His sister was no longer shivering, but she was visibly pale. She glanced from him to Rose and back again, her eyes holding a lot of questions, but too exhausted to ask them. “Thank you, Lady Rose. Once again, I doubtlessly have to say, it seems as though with every passing day, I find myself deeper in your debt.”

  Gabriel saw Rose pull a small grimace. “Oh, please, I have never been too fond of the marchioness,” Rose responded in a clear, carrying voice, intensifying the whispering at her back. “I think she deserves to be put a little damper on.” Then, she
said something quieter and winked at Henrietta. “I think I will go soon. I still have to fight my way back to my mother.”

  Gabriel leaned over to Henrietta and asked if she would mind if he came back later. “Only if you really do not mind,” he added. Henrietta shook her head. At the same time Hollingsworth came to his side, offering to drive the two ladies’ home and take care of Lady Henrietta.

  “Thank you,” Gabriel replied. “I do not want to leave Lady Rose alone.”

  “I am not sure what is going on here,” whispered the doctor, “but I believe that will be quite all right with the young lady.” He hesitated, then added, “The truism stating that life is more exciting than any spectacle seems to take on a whole new meaning in your presence, my Lord.”

  Standing next to him, Rose chuckled, at first hesitantly, then louder, when his lips curved upwards, too. Only when the small group disappeared from sight did they become serious. He searched for the right words to express how much he admired her for standing up for his sister, without finding the appropriate phrase. “I thank you,” he said at length, making a gesture as if to take both her hands in his. At the last second, he remembered that they were not alone. Too many curious eyes and ears had witnessed Rose confronting her fiancé.

  “What are friends for?” She raised her chin. “We are friends, are we not?”

  His throat tightened. “We are. I will escort you to your mother. She is certainly already impatiently waiting for you.”

  “Certainly.” Rose sighed. Then, her demeanour lit up. “I wish I had a fan as well,” she remarked lightly.

  “For what reason?” Gabriel sensed that her question was bait and was only too happy to fall prey.

  “Because I could give you, my Lord, a playful little clap with it.”

  “What did I do to deserve that?” He raised both hands in a theatrical gesture. “I am not aware of any guilt.”

  “Oh, is that so? Then tell me – what made you think to take your sister to Romeo and Juliet, of all plays?”

  “I thought it would cheer Henrietta up.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Of course. Seeing two lovers being separated from each other by fate and go to their deaths, is immensely amusing. If you say now that you did not know the outcome of the play, you will only make things worse for yourself. So, think carefully about what you have to say for your justification.”

  “It really was not the best idea I ever had, was it?” Gabriel admitted. They talked quietly enough so that none of the other theatregoers could overhear their conversation. “But she should not hide herself away in her room all the time. To see how she grows sadder every day and loses more of her zest for life … I cannot bear that.”

  “My mother told me that your sister loves the young man very much and hopes that he will return home soon,” said Rose. “Tell her that she can stay at our estate in Surrey until he returns home. And if he does not … then you, yourself, must marry and declare the child as your own.” She clapped her hand over her mouth as if surprised by her exceedingly daring words and blushed. When she saw his astonished face, the blush became a deeper red, making her look very innocent, despite her free-spirited suggestion.

  He smiled to show her that he was not angry. “How would that work? I do not intend to marry just anyone.” Gabriel paused for a moment before continuing. “If you were not engaged, I might just prod my heart.” He knew that he was taking her shockingly simple and highly unconventional idea to the extreme, and he also knew that she had to reject it outright.

  “And if I were not engaged, I would accept your request.” She evaded his gaze, but her cheeks turned a tell-tale red. Gabriel was close enough to see her pulse pounding underneath the tender spot behind her ear, a place that he so much wanted to explore with his lips. “For your sister’s sake, of course.”

  Their pace slowed the closer they came to de Coucy’s loge.

  It was time to change the subject. “Are you worried that your fiancé will reproach you?”

  She tilted her head and looked at him. “He was not pleased,” she said, slowing even more. “Why do you ask? Will you challenge him to a duel for reprimanding me?”

  “Only if you promise not to interfere this time.”

  The worry lines on her forehead disappeared. “I swear by Oberon’s life – if you can stop him from giving me a slap on the wrist, I will not intervene.” She paused. “But I insist on being able to watch. Of course, from a safe distance.”

  He came to a stop. “Lady Rose,” he said. “Rose, I …”

  “Yes?” She was breathing in quick little bursts.

  Her eyes burned into his heart and soul. Gabriel bowed his head, irresistibly drawn in by her expression. How many times had he wished in recent days that she would only look at him this way? At the last second, he regained his self-control.

  Was that disappointment in her eyes?

  “I will pick you up the day after tomorrow, in the afternoon. Give me one day to sort out my family affairs and then …” He found it hard to speak. “Four o’clock. We will go to Gunter’s, as I promised you.” They started walking again and covered the remaining steps to the door in front of de Coucy’s box. The servant opened the door, and Gabriel escorted her inside. To his relief, there was no sign of Richard de Coucy. Only the duchess had endured and seemed absorbed in the sight of the mime, mucking around on the stage.

  “The day after tomorrow,” Rose whispered to him and approached her mother.

  After the incident at the theatre, Henrietta insisted on accepting the Duchess of Evesham’s offer and turning her back on London as quickly as possible, which stirred rather mixed feelings in Gabriel. On the one hand, he had half a mind to defy convention and leave Henrietta in the city with him until the child came into the world. On the other hand, he knew that this was an impossible endeavour. Had it been for his future alone, for his position in high society, he would have braved them, but Henrietta, despite all the protestations of her indifference, was not strong enough to endure a lifetime’s contempt from the lords and ladies. The ugly scene at the theatre had made this clear to him.

  Either way, it was a good sign that Henrietta had decided to leave instead of waiting for him to decide for her. The problem of what should happen with the child after its birth was far from resolved, but at least her confinement would take place in peace. Last night, Gabriel had had a long conversation with the doctor, who had been waiting for him – not for long, as he assured Gabriel. It was a token of the esteem that the doctor had earned during Gabriel’s absence in the house that Peters brought him, with no prompting, the second-best brandy, discreetly swapping it for the best as Gabriel joined Hollingsworth in the library. Having guessed Henrietta’s delicate condition even before the visit to the theatre, but not bringing it up, the doctor then had introduced him to some details of natal education.

  There were some things Gabriel could have gladly done without – he would hardly ever find himself in the situation of having to assist a woman at giving birth or to know the best way to cut the umbilical cord – but there were also some myths that circulated amongst men, and Hollingsworth was able to clear them up, thoroughly. If Hollingsworth were to be believed (and he had not an inkling of doubt), Henrietta was allowed to remain active until the last few weeks. It meant that strict bed rest was counterproductive in a healthy young woman. “Pregnancy is not a disease,” he had said, “and the healthier the mother, the healthier the child. Plenty of exercise out in the fresh air. Little alcohol! That is the basic recipe for an easy birth and a relatively stable mood for the expectant mother.” Gabriel had probably displayed a quizzical countenance, because Hollingsworth had appeared awkward for a moment. “Forgive me, my enthusiasm for modern medicine has carried me away, once again. Perhaps … in the circumstances, you are not bothered whether the child is healthy, I mean, Lady Henrietta … well, whatever the case may be.”

  “I must admit that I am not pleased, but since a friend of the family has offered a refuge to my sis
ter and hopefully the father of the child will turn up soon to do his duty, I am resigned to the matter. The main thing is that my sister is well.”

  “That is what I call a modern way of thinking, and I can only congratulate you on that, my Lord!”

  Gabriel dismissed him before the doctor’s enthusiasm broke fresh ground again. “I do not deserve this kind of praise,” he said. “I am not saying you contradicted me with your rich vocabulary. To be honest, Henrietta’s laxity shocks and outrages me enormously, but she is my sister and I love her.” He took a long sip of his brandy. “Also, I am not without blame when it comes to things going so far. Henrietta was lonely. I should have been with her instead of in France, standing by her when she fell in love.”

  “You fought for your country, Lord Cavanaugh. Most men would feel this was more important.”

  Gabriel stared into the fire. “I should have returned, at least when our father died a year ago and my older brother disappeared. When the truce was sealed and the war was officially over, I wasted several months looking for Elijah instead of coming home right away.”

  “I am aware that this is no consolation, my Lord, and that barely am I entitled to offer you one, but Lady Henrietta is not the first and will not be the last to have a child out of wedlock. In fact, this happens far more often than most people think.”

  “You are right; it is no comfort. Still, I accept the good intention in your words.”

  For a while, the crackling flames was the only sound, except for the occasional clink of the bottle as Gabriel refilled their glasses. The doctor was pleasant company through and through, but sometimes overenthusiastic on medical details. Apart from these outbursts, his particular manner made it easy to tell him what was on your mind. He was also clever enough to know when to be silent and when to speak.