The School for Brides

by Cheryl Ann Smith

  The stream of babbling ended when the duchess lifted her hand. “Please, Miss Winfield, no more apologies.” She smiled softly. “If you haven’t yet noticed, my son is a man who makes his own decisions, quite forcefully in fact.” She shot Nicholas a stern look. “He chose to chase after you, and there was nothing I could do to stop him.” The duchess returned her attention to Eva and reached for her. She tucked her arm around Eva’s. “I am happy your Yvette is safe and my son is alive. Now let us leave him to rest. You and I have much to discuss.”

  Eva sent Nicholas a helpless glance as the duchess led her from the room by the elbow, as if she were a child. Harold and Noelle stepped out of the way and let them pass. There wouldn’t be any rescue from that quarter. She’d been tossed to the wolves.

  With her mind awhirl, Eva worked over every possible explanation and excuse in her mind as the duchess took her into the parlor and released her arm. Without a word, Her Grace positioned herself on the settee, smoothed out her skirts, and lifted her face. She cocked a brow.

  “Do you plan to stand all day, Miss Winfield, or will you sit with me?”

  Eva hurried to claim a chair opposite the duchess. She felt like a dusty church mouse in the presence of a queen.

  The duchess was dressed in her lavender and purple finery, and the drab borrowed dress Eva wore was patched at the knees. Clearly Harold’s sister had enjoyed outdoor pursuits. Climbing trees and crawling under hedges would be her guess.

  “Miss Winfield,” the duchess began. Eva braced herself. “I could pretend ignorance and lead you to believe I am unaware of your relationship with my son. I know how forceful he can be, and that you were an innocent in his seduction.”

  Shamed, Eva felt all the blood in her body race to her face and pulse at her temples. The secret was out, and her humiliation was intense. She wanted to run from the room, from the house, all the way to the farthest reaches of the world. Nicholas, with his need for vengeance, had done this to her. Not only had he seduced her, he’d told his mother about it. She never, never wanted to face him again!

  “I will remove myself from this house immediately, Your Grace.” Eva stood with what little pride she had left and lifted her chin. “I’ll be gone within the hour.”

  The duchess shook her head and indicated the chair. “Please sit down, Miss Winfield. There is no need to flee.”

  A desperate pull to escape weighed on Eva for a long moment before she reluctantly sat.

  “It was not my intention to embarrass you, Miss Winfield. However, I do like to speak frankly.”

  Frankly? The duchess was brutally honest. “Lady Seymour suffers from the same condition,” Eva said, defeated.

  A smile broke across the duchess’s face. “I have discovered that Lady Seymour, Noelle, has very strong opinions. I admire her for that.” She leaned forward on the settee and encompassed Eva with her full stare. “I wish for us to talk freely and honestly, Miss Winfield. I realize you are very important to my son, and I understand your reasons for refusing him. What I want to know are your feelings for him.”

  Dejected and embarrassed, Eva knew she had little left to lose, so she would give Her Grace what she wanted, and take her punishment. She sighed. “I love him.”

  “I see.” There was a long pause. When Eva lifted her eyes, the duchess was peering intently into her face, her expression unreadable.

  Eva swallowed. “I realize my feelings are foolish. I assure you I have no aspirations regarding His Grace. I have told him I will not marry him. The problems between us are insurmountable.”

  The duchess stood without comment. She walked to the window. Mottled patches of sunlight danced around the walls and floor as it filtered through a tall elm. For all she’d just learned, her face was surprisingly serene.

  “Fortunately, my son and I are of the same mind in regard to you.” She tapped her fingertips on her crossed arms. “I think you and he are a fine match. If only we can convince you to accept his suit, you will give my son the love he deserves.”

  Eva uttered a surprised sound, and the duchess turned back to her. Had she heard correctly? “I don’t understand, Your Grace.”

  “Then let me explain, Miss Winfield.” The duchess fingered the drape. “When I was young, I fell in love with a bounder, a rake, though my parents warned me his intentions were dishonorable. He was a duke, I had no dowry, and my family teetered on the edge of poverty. They eventually relented and allowed me to wed him, in exchange for a large settlement from His Grace.” Her eyes shadowed. “I quickly discovered he was everything I’d heard, and more. He was a despicable scoundrel.”

  She returned to the settee. “I lived twenty-two miserable years with that man. When he died, it was as if darkness had been lifted from my heart.” Her Grace smiled tightly and apologetically. “I suppose it is awful to say so.”

  “We agreed to be honest,” Eva said with a wicked glint in her eyes. It was impossible not to like the duchess and feel sympathy for her years of living in an unhappy and loveless marriage. Many women did so for financial security.

  Her Grace laughed brightly. “I do like you, Miss Winfield. You are just the sort of woman to keep my son on his toes.” She leaned an elbow on the armrest. “All I have ever wanted for Nicholas was that he not make the mistakes of his parents. I want him to have love and laughter in his life.” She paused. “Still, as I’m sure you have discovered, he has much of his father in him. Both could be hard men when crossed. Yet, he is not, and could never be, Charles. He just doesn’t know how to let his father’s ghost rest and accept that he is capable of love. I think that between the two of us, we can teach him the error of his ways.”

  Eva sobered. “He is a good man,” she admitted. It had taken her some time to see that beneath his gruffness was a caring heart. And then there was the fact that he’d risked his life for her. “I’m certain your son and my sister have informed you of my circumstances and about my mother,” Eva said. “No, please don’t deny it, Your Grace. Noelle is set to match us, and of course she’d include you in her plot. How could you know the details of my life otherwise?”

  A slight nod confirmed her suspicions. Somehow, somewhere, the two women had conspired against her.

  “I appreciate your kind words, Your Grace, and your acceptance of me as a potential daughter-in-law. I know having your son involved with a courtesan’s daughter is not an ideal situation, and I have my mother to think of. Between the two, the wall is too high to climb over. I beg you to accept my refusal and convince His Grace it is for the best that we part now, before the truth of our relationship is discovered by the Ton.”

  Eva quickly excused herself and left the manor with a heavy heart. Her Grace was a fine lady and cared very much for Nicholas. She felt like she’d wronged them both. Still, if she had to be stubborn, so be it. In time, Nicholas would find a satisfactory wife, and soon enough his mother would have grandchildren to love.

  She walked along the weedy path in the expansive garden for some time, with no particular destination in mind. She eventually stumbled upon a narrow bench near a row of trellises, and sat with her thoughts.

  Not a quarter of an hour later she heard the rush of feet behind the trellises, and the sound of soft feminine sobs. The trellises kept Eva from discovering the identity of the distraught woman. She had readied herself to sneak away when the sound of heavy boots crashed through the underbrush as a second person strode up to join the first.

  “Margaret, please,” Harold’s voice called out, low and pleading. “You must allow me to explain.”

  Eva froze on the bench.

  “You lied to me, to all of us,” Margaret said between hiccups and sniffles. “I thought you cared, Harold. How could I have been so foolish?”

  Harold moved closer. Eva closed her hand over her mouth to muffle her breathing. If she ran off now, she’d draw attention to herself. She had to remain still and hope they would walk away. This was a private conversation. She had no business spying.

  Still
, she had to admit she was curious. Margaret and Harold? All sorts of questions filled her mind. When had their bond begun? How far had it taken them? Were they lovers?

  “You were not foolish. I didn’t intend to fall in love with you, Meg.” He expelled a harsh breath. “I was a groom. You are a lady from a well-connected family. I never expected we would be friends, and certainly not anything more.”

  “But you were not a groom,” Margaret protested, her voice rising. “You are a baron. You kept the truth from me.”

  “Would it have mattered? Do you think your mother would allow an impoverished baron to wed you?” Harold sounded anguished and his words were dejected.

  Eva couldn’t believe her stoic servant had fallen in love with her shy sister, and she hadn’t seen a hint of the truth in either of them. Would the secrets ever end?

  She pursed her lips to keep silent.

  “You think I would wed you now, even if you had the fortune of a king?” Margaret sniffed. “You are not the man I thought you were, Your Lordship. You were part of Mother’s plot to ruin Eva and her mother. I no longer know you.”

  “You know my reasons, and they were not so unlike yours. You also wished the worst for Eva before you knew her,” he said gruffly, and moved closer to the trellises. Eva could see his blue coat through the latticework. She prayed he wouldn’t look behind him and discover her eavesdropping. “I have refused to take money from Lady Seymour. I cannot betray Eva and Charlotte. Or you.”

  “Yet, you did betray me,” Margaret said bitterly. “I loved you.”

  Harold stepped forward. Eva caught a glimpse of a faded frock. He stood close enough to reach for Margaret. This conversation certainly explained why Abigail-Margaret had fled the room when he confessed his identity and ownership of the manor. For once, it hadn’t anything to do with Eva. He wasn’t the groom Margaret loved. What an unwelcome discovery!

  “Don’t touch me,” Margaret begged, stepping backward. “Don’t ever touch me again.” A sob cut off their conversation, and she fled toward the manor house.

  Eva resisted the urge to go after her and commiserate over their shared betrayal by Harold. He’d lied to Margaret and had given Eva such trouble over the duke; he should be taken to task by both sisters. He deserved to suffer for his love as she had suffered for hers.

  She smiled brightly and wanted to laugh. Her diminutive sister had taken down her bear of a servant with her love.

  Eva must have made a sound that betrayed her presence. In the next moment, Harold was standing before her. She looked up with laughing eyes. Harold appeared ruffled and beaten.

  “How much did you hear?” he said, his eyes accusing. Deep lines cut across his hard face. He was miserable.

  “All of it.” She beamed, and didn’t bother hiding her satisfaction. “In all fairness, I was here first.”

  He snapped off a twig from the dormant rose bush and broke it into several small pieces before tossing it away. His wide shoulders slumped forward. “I have made a mess of my life. I never wanted to love her, Eva, you have to believe that.”

  Eva put a finger to her lips and looked him over. “I never imagined you falling in love or that you were capable of such a strong emotion. You were positively awful to me over my feelings for His Grace. I thought you were completely heartless.”

  Harold took a seat beside her. “Our situations are very different. I didn’t take Meg’s innocence.”

  “Perhaps you should have. She’d have been forced to marry you then,” she teased. Eva tried to imagine her strongwilled servant wed to sweet, shy Margaret. Still, the young woman had rattled him to his core. Perhaps the match wasn’t so impossible to imagine.

  “I think you should take Lady Seymour’s money,” Eva continued. “That witch deserves to have her accounts lightened. I’ll help you with an outlandish tale to tell her about Mother and me. She’ll eagerly pay you then.” She looked around the garden. “Then you can hire someone to find the grass beneath these weeds and paint the trim on the manor house. The mildewed carpets and drapes require a good airing out and cleaning, and the settees need new upholstery. If you want to marry my sister and give her a good life, you must have a house befitting her station.”

  Looking at her sidelong, Harold lifted a brow. “Margaret will not have me. She would rather wed a toad.”

  “Nonsense.” Eva waved off his argument. From the emotion she’d heard in her sister’s voice, she knew that Margaret just needed a little push to forgive Harold. “Do something outrageously romantic. She will be unable to refuse you.”

  Yvette proved more resilient than anyone expected. After a day and a half of rest, she joined them in the parlor for tea. Her face was weary, and dark smudges tinged the skin beneath her eyes. Otherwise, she was fit. Eva and the other women did their best to lift her spirits, and she rewarded them with an occasional weak smile.

  She refused to speak about the earl or her time in captivity, and they respected her privacy. Yvette insisted that she be included in the upcoming party for the potential husbands and thanked everyone for saving her life.

  An investigation had been launched to find the killer of the earl, and there were rumors about a mysterious woman, a fight, and a robbery, but no one at the abbey had actually seen anything useful. The Bow Street Runners were rumored to be leaning toward a robbery turned deadly.

  “Do you think Yvette will ever be truly happy again?” Eva quietly asked Harold. Several times she’d seen Yvette look out the window when she thought no one was watching, and there was intense sadness in her face.

  “It will take time, but she is strong,” Harold said. He stared at Margaret, who refused to look at or speak to him. “She has suffered through much in her life. I think she is looking forward to a new start. I overheard her telling Rose so.”

  Eva nodded slowly and smiled warily. “And what of Margaret? Have you come up with a way to turn her heart around?” She’d spoken to Noelle, and Noelle was just as surprised as she had been to discover Margaret had had a secret romance with Harold. Noelle knew they were friends, but no more. “I have seen the glances she sends your way. I know she loves you.”

  Harold gave her a sharp, hopeful stare. Eva shrugged. “We women often see things with our hearts that men do not.”

  He expelled a breath. “Then perhaps you can advise me how to woo and win her hand. I cannot come up with a single idea of a grand romantic gesture.”

  She patted his arm. “You will. I have faith.”

  With Harold’s help, Nicholas dressed. Three days abed without Eva had left him ill-tempered and short with everyone. Even his mother’s happy chatter set his teeth on edge. The duchess had decided that Eva had descended from Heaven, complete with angel wings, and no amount of arguing could convince her that her son’s stubborn mistress wasn’t about to become his wife.

  “These damnable bandages,” Nicholas grumbled, shoving a finger beneath them for a scratch. Harold tugged Nicholas’s shirt over his shoulders. “Next time I’m shot, let me bleed to death.”

  “There were times I wanted to shoot you myself, Your Grace,” Harold said as Nicholas tucked his shirt into his breeches. The baron helped him into his black coat. “I shall have to live with the satisfaction of watching a footman take a chunk out of your hide instead.”

  After seeing the patched garments Eva and the courtesans wore, Nicholas was grateful his mother had brought his own clothes when Harold had sent for her. He scowled and flexed his shoulders. His forced inactivity had left him stiff all over.

  “I am well enough to land a few decent blows if you’d like to take this matter outside,” Nicholas said.

  Harold’s malevolent smile was the first he’d seen from the stoic man. The former servant turned baron, and now servant again, reached up and roughly knotted Nicholas’s cravat. “Though the offer is pleasing, Your Grace, I think Eva has done more damage to you than I could do with my fists.”

  Eva. Nicholas hadn’t seen her in days, though Mother assured him she�
��d visited while he slept. She was avoiding further confrontations and any talk of marriage. She never once denied caring for him when she refused his proposal. It was all about her fears. Those he had to assuage.

  When Harold finished, Nicholas critically examined himself in the mirror. “You make a good manservant, My Lord.”

  “It is interesting how you can learn to dress yourself when you lack a manservant.” Harold leaned back on his heels. “I had many jobs during my travels and saw many things. Dressing you, I can do blindfolded.”

  “Is physician included in those professions?” The wound was healing nicely, and Nicholas had suffered through only a brief fever. There would be a scar, but Noelle assured him it would only add to his rakish reputation.

  “I was in the army and spent time working in the infirmary.” Harold smirked. “And when you are built like a pugilist, you are often challenged to prove your worth. I became an expert at patching myself up after fights. Carving the bullet out of your side wasn’t difficult. It was not much more than a flesh wound.”

  “Still, I do owe you my thanks. I could have bled to death.” Nicholas reached out his hand. The baron looked down, then closed his large hand over Nicholas’s. They locked gazes. “Now if you can convince your stubborn mistress to marry me, you’ll have my lifelong gratitude.”

  “I fear you’ll have to put your courtship off a bit longer, Your Grace,” Harold said, releasing his hand. “Eva packed up her sisters and her courtesans this morning and left for London.”

  Nicholas grumbled under his breath. “For a woman of steely strength, she is a coward when it comes to fighting for her happiness.” He shook his head. “If you have any ideas on how to bring her around, please tell me. I have nothing.”