The School for Brides

by Cheryl Ann Smith

  “You’re distracted of late, love.” His mother’s curious green eyes explored his face. She dropped an invitation on the correct stack and leaned forward to better examine him. “Rumor has it you misplaced your mistress.”

  Nicholas grimaced. He was the subject of gossip, again. It was a place he hated to be. But it was the curse of his class to twitter about things they knew nothing about. Scandal after scandal entertained society, and if none was forthcoming, stories were invented.

  To have his proper mother mention his mistress at breakfast made him cock his brow. “I did not lose her, Mother. We have parted company. Amicably.”

  Another face had replaced both Lucy and Arabella in his mind. A face he’d be well off to forget.

  His mother didn’t need to be privy to such information.

  Deep inside, he understood the feisty Miss Winfield was trouble, a thorn in his well-run life. If he wanted to regain some sanity, he needed to find another interest. Quickly.

  “Then you have no plans to throw yourself from a bridge and end your grief.” His mother’s lips quirked.

  He leveled a glare at her still beautiful face. Her dark hair had begun to gray, but her face was as lovely as ever. Men fell over themselves to speak to the wealthy and charming widow. It was her unhappy past that kept her from marrying again, and a steel spine that had kept her chin high when her marriage had crumbled. She was completely satisfied with her social functions and charities and raising her son.

  It was his bachelorhood she fretted over.

  “You can assure the gossips I have no plans to leap to my death from any high surface.” He’d never care so much for a woman that he would consider death preferable to losing her. He lifted the newspaper and scanned the page. “In fact, I will attend the ball, Mother. It is high time I return to society.”

  A young lady is at the door wishing to speak to you, Miss Eva.” Mother’s elderly butler, Edwin, cast a quick glance at the dough between her hands and up her arms. Eva took to cooking whenever she was troubled about something. It calmed her and allowed her to think through her problems. Today the loaves of bread would be plentiful.

  He continued, “She claims she is some sort of relation, though she is tight-lipped about the details.”

  A relation? Aside from her mother and some half sisters she’d never met, there was no one she could claim as kin. Mother’s family was dead, and Father’s was out of reach.

  Curiosity kept her from sending the visitor away. “Settle her in the parlor. I will wash my hands and be right up.” Eva dropped the dough and cleaned her hands, her mind whirling. It was her month for strange visits. First His Grace, and now some woman claiming to be a long-lost relative.

  Eva was relieved her mother was upstairs sleeping. If the visitor was truly family, Eva would discover the motives for her unexpected arrival and handle the situation from there.

  Brushing the flour off her dress, she smoothed it as best she could. It was one of her oldest, and slightly frayed at the cuffs, but she had no time to change. She patted her hair, tucked a stray lock behind her ear, and left the kitchen with trepidation. She looked around for Harold as she walked to the parlor. He was absent. She suspected he’d gone off to Cheapside to check on the courtesans.

  She paused outside the open parlor door and took a few deep breaths for calm.

  When she stepped into the parlor, the stranger was staring at the painting of her father over the mantel. Handsome and stately, he had the hint of humor in his amber eyes. She’d loved that look as a girl, as if he knew deep and shocking secrets he chose not to share.

  Her heart tightened. She missed him so. However, it was the petite figure in dove gray who now held her attention. The dress was expensive despite its simple cut, and her matching bonnet did not fully cover her pale hair. From the back it was difficult to guess her age, but Eva suspected she was young.

  Eva took a step into the room, but a soft voice from beneath the bonnet drew her to a stop. “He was so handsome, was he not? I hear you have his eyes, Evangeline.”

  Slowly the woman turned around, her heart-shaped face shadowed by her bonnet, but there was no mistaking the eyes that stared at her from under the brim. The eyes Eva, Father, and this girl all shared. An unusual shade of deep amber with the hint of gold around the pupils if one looked closely enough.

  The room tilted. Eva stumbled over to a chair and sat. Her throat closed and her hands trembled. She did not need to see a certificate of birth to know her sister. Though their hair colors were different shades entirely, this girl would be easily picked out of a crowd as Eva’s kin.

  The question was, which sister was she, and why was she here, now of all times?

  “I fear I have shocked you, Evangeline.” The young woman slid the bonnet off her head and walked to Eva. She was taller than Eva by an inch or two. Her pert nose had a few freckles and her mouth was gently curved. She was lovely. “It was not my intention. I worried you would not see me and thought it best not to announce my name.”

  She clasped her gloved hands together. Perhaps she was shaking, too. “I am Noelle. I was born two years before you. Our sister, Margaret, is between us. She is the serious sister.”

  Noelle’s eyes danced. She certainly had their father’s mischievous nature. “Perhaps you need a moment to gather your wits. Shall I call for tea?”

  “No.” Eva pulled in a deep breath and shook her head to clear her unease. She had always known about Noelle, but to have her now sitting in her parlor had shaken her. “I fear I’m confused. I was led to believe you knew nothing about me; or rather, you did not want to know me. I am not the kind of woman a lady of title would claim as kin.”

  A blonde brow went up and Noelle appeared puzzled. “Why ever not? We share a father. We are not at fault for the choices he made.” She smiled brightly. “I’ve known about you for years, from overhearing conversations between my mother and Aunt Beatrice.” She glanced at the portrait. “Mother would not let me see you while I was growing up. I am now old enough to make my own decisions. I just had to come see you.”

  Eva felt as if her world was crumbling. First His Grace, now another person had come from the shadows to threaten everything. She was paddling against a high tide and was about to be dragged out to sea.

  “I think it best if you leave and never come back,” Eva said softly. “There is nothing for you here.”

  Hurt flashed on Noelle’s face. She watched Eva for a long moment, then placed her hands on her hips. A spark of defiance replaced the hurt. “I came here without my mother’s knowledge or permission, and against Margaret’s advice. I risked everything to meet you, my sister. Now you want to toss me out when we have just met?” She tapped a toe. “You may have me removed by force, but I am not ready to take my leave just yet.”

  The girl was stubborn, a characteristic they shared. She was also charming and defiant, traits Eva normally found enviable. Her own rebellious streak had been replaced with responsibility.

  Eva felt some of her ire fade. It would not hurt to discover if there was a darker reason for the visit. It helps to know one’s enemies when mounting a defense.

  “You are Lady Noelle Seymour. Why would you want to know a courtesan’s daughter?” Eva clasped her hands. “My bloodline does not change the circumstances of my birth. Our father betrayed your mother. I cannot see why you do not despise me.”

  Noelle dropped into a chair and sighed. Clearly, she had no intention of leaving without having her say. It would take the missing Harold to remove her from the building.

  “If you knew my mother, you would understand why he sought a warm bed elsewhere,” Noelle said. “Mother is cold and cares for no one but herself. My sister and I were largely an inconvenience, part of her duty to continue the family line. She deeply regretted not having a son.”

  “How horrible,” Eva responded, sympathetic in spite of herself. Her mother had certainly not been perfect, but Eva had always known that she was loved. Never once in her life ha
d her mother ever expressed regret over her birth. “Still, if you are discovered here, you will be ruined. The scandal would rock polite society.”

  Eva cared naught for the snobbish Ton but knew that if Noelle was to make a suitable match someday, she had to keep their connection secret and her reputation pristine.

  “Pish-posh.” Noelle waved her gloved hand. “No one need know we are sisters. We will claim we are reunited distant cousins. You can hail from some obscure corner of Northumberland and have come to visit me. No one in society need know any different.”

  Her words bounced around in Eva’s head.

  “You can’t be suggesting that we be seen in public together. You must be mad.”

  Truthfully, Eva wasn’t sure she wanted to know Noelle at all, publicly or otherwise. She sensed that the whirlwind who was her sister could cause her loads of trouble. There was much to be said for being an only child.

  Noelle shook her head and sighed. “I do believe my sister is afraid of a little adventure. I must say I am quite aggrieved.” She looked around the room and rested her attention on a small elephant figurine. “Did you know our father spent time in India and America? He traveled many places and saw many things. He was an adventurer in his youth.” Noelle’s face turned grim. “What would he think of his daughter if he knew she was fearful of her very own shadow?”

  One vertebra at a time, Eva straightened. “Since you know nothing about me, you cannot make such a judgment. I’ve had plenty of adventures.” She could not tell Noelle about the courtesan school or her relationship with His Grace. They were her secrets. She shot Noelle a look with narrowed eyes. “I suspect, sister, you are throwing down a challenge you believe I will not be able to resist.”

  The young woman was a stranger in all regards, yet there was something about her that intrigued Eva. She had a streak of wild in her. Eva suspected her mother, Lady Seymour, had tried and failed to curb the streak. After all, she’d come from Kent to meet her bastard sister at great risk to herself and her family.

  Then the thought of pricking the woman who’d almost stolen her father’s stipend from them lifted her spirits. Lady Seymour would suffer an attack of apoplexy should she discover the whereabouts of her elder daughter.

  Still, getting acquainted with Noelle privately was one thing. As for public outings, she would never agree to that foolish notion.

  She smiled at her odd sister. “Would you like some tea, Noelle? I think it is time we became acquainted.”

  For nearly two hours they chatted about everything from the mundane details of their lives to stories of their father. Eva’s reserve toward Noelle faded bit by bit when she failed to find any dark motive for her arrival. Noelle appeared genuine and open.

  They laughed a little, cried a little more, and discovered a genuine fondness for one another. Eva learned a bit about Margaret and understood the two sisters did not share the same view of their half sister. Apparently Eva would never meet Margaret. It was more than enough to know Noelle and spend a few hours with her.

  Later, when Eva sought out her bed and the house grew quiet, she was happy and content. All her worries were put to rest. She felt certain Noelle would be satisfied with the meeting and return to Kent and her life there.

  With no harm done.

  Chapter Nine

  Pens scratched on parchment as the former courtesans added numbers and tallied columns. Eva walked between them, a starchy schoolmarm in gray. Teaching women to keep books was an unusual undertaking. However, it was a valuable tool for them. One never knew when proficiency with sums might be useful.

  “I can’t do this,” Rose whined, dropping her pen in the ink pot. She stared at her open palms and the ink stains on several of her fingertips. “I am terrible with sums.”

  “Let me see what you’ve done, Rose.” Eva leaned over her shoulder and began to add the numbers in her head. Halfway down the column she found the mistake. “Here is where you went off. You put a six in this spot instead of an eight.”

  Rose leaned over and inspected the parchment. “Hmm.” She retrieved the pen and made the change. After another minute she returned the pen to the ink pot a second time and gleefully rubbed her palms together. “I did it!”

  Eva smiled. “Yes, you did. And since you’ve completed this most satisfactorily, I have a surprise for you.” She paused until all eyes were on her. “A look through the Husbands book.”

  Rose let out a squeal. “I do so want to look.” She jumped to her feet and clapped her hands. “I get to be first.”

  Several envious stares followed her across the room. Eva walked to the bookshelf and pulled out the heavy volume. They were almost at the end of their instruction and nearly ready to be matched with a mate. Choosing potential suitors was exciting for the women, and for Eva, too.

  She caressed the cover of the book. “Settle yourself on the settee, Rose.” Rose dropped into the indicated space and held out her hands. Eva’s mouth twitched. Rose wasn’t timid. It was part of her charm. The girl was more akin to a wiggly puppy in her enthusiasm for life’s adventures. “This is the culmination of your learning.”

  “Why did you to start this school, Miss Eva?” Abigail asked. She dipped her pen in the ink pot.

  “Well, it was quite simple, really,” Eva said. “What started out as a simple conversation about unrequited love with the shy young artist who painted my mother’s portrait blossomed into a way to help courtesans. It took several years and countless hours of work, but I am satisfied with the result.”

  The story was true. She left out the part about her mother’s history and how it had gotten her to this place. The two stories cobbled together had convinced her to help courtesans find love and escape.

  “Tell us more about the artist,” Pauline urged.

  Eva smiled as she continued. “As it happened, Mister Bennett was looking for a wife and was deeply infatuated with Miss Hale, the mistress of a count. I intervened and discovered a surprising knack for matchmaking. Soon they were very much in love. The pair was so pleased with my efforts, they asked for help with matching Mister Bennett’s brother. Through word of mouth, and a string of unhappily unattached friends of Mister Bennett’s, my school was born. Now Mister Bennett recommends and sketches the suitors while Mrs. Bennett tends their growing brood of five children. Of course I make the final selections of who is included in the book.”

  It was an exceedingly successful arrangement. In three years of matchmaking, she’d not heard a single complaint from any of the husbands or wives.

  “Once the rest of you have finished your sums,” Eva said, opening the cover to the first face, “you may also have a peek.”

  The sound of pens furiously scratching on parchment followed the pronouncement as Eva handed the book to Rose. With everyone occupied, Eva looked from woman to woman, painfully noting the absence of Yvette. No one had seen her since yesterday, when she went out on some secret errand and had not yet returned.

  Eva knew Yvette was finding the transition from courtesan to wife most difficult. The struggle had left her withdrawn over the last two days. She’d sold her body for so long, she wasn’t sure if she would be satisfied with a simple life.

  In spite of this, Eva had been positive Yvette was still willing to turn her life around.

  Now she wasn’t so sure.

  Had Yvette gone back to her abusive lover without telling anyone? From what Eva now understood, when he lost a purse gambling, he’d slap Yvette. When a business venture downturned, he’d give her a black eye or a bruised lip. He took any reason to vent his frustrations on her. Yvette had suffered greatly, making it impossible for Eva to understand how she could consider returning to the man.

  Unfortunately, he was a mystery. Yvette had refused to name him when asked. Without the information, it was impossible to discover if Yvette had renewed their relationship.

  According to Sophie, a woman of a certain age with her livelihood slowly coming to an end, Yvette had taken the abuse with stoic
acceptance until she’d found her way to Eva’s door.

  “I’m next!” Pauline pushed aside the pen and parchment and hurried to take a choice seat next to Rose. Soon the two women were chattering happily and perusing sketches.

  Eva went to the window and looked up and down the empty street. As the young women giggled behind her, she felt darkness grow in the pit of her stomach. There was something not right about Yvette’s absence. She sensed it, felt it, and was certain that wherever Yvette was, she was in serious trouble.

  In a city as large as London, where did one begin looking for a missing courtesan? If she did begin a search, would Yvette want to be found?

  Eva knew she could do nothing at the moment and needed to keep her attention on the remaining courtesans. They weren’t worried yet about Yvette, and Eva knew they’d follow her example. If she exhibited calm and confidence that Yvette would return, so would they.

  “This one is very handsome,” Abigail said, and Eva turned back, discovering a trio of heads bent low over the book. Parchment crinkled as they turned the pages. Sophie quickly finished her sums and joined them, leaning over the back of the settee.

  “This one has an overbite but he has very kind eyes,” Rose said. “I do adore a man with kind eyes.”

  “Look at that one.” Sophie pointed to a face. She squinted to read his information. “It says he’s a solicitor.” Her face brightened. “A solicitor? He must have a lovely house.”

  Sophie lifted her eyes to Eva, who had joined her behind the settee. Eva peered at the book over her spectacles. They were clear glass and of no use.

  “A solicitor he is,” Eva agreed. This was one of the men she had selected for Sophie. “He is looking for a woman of some maturity and without children, to run his household and travel with him when he visits clients. He is quite wealthy.”

  “He would be perfect for you, Sophie,” Pauline interjected eagerly. “I’ll bet he cuts a fine figure in court.”