by Deborah Hale
“P-pardon me.” She interrupted Abigail in midword. “I must excuse myself. I am not accustomed to such late hours and so much excitement. I should get home...that is...back to Amberwood.”
She tried to slip away, but Abigail followed her. “Are you unwell? Can I help?”
“I am not ill.” Evangeline tried to wave her away. “Only tired and my head aches. It is not far to walk back, and fresh air may be all the remedy I need.”
“Nonsense.” Abigail refused to be dismissed. “You cannot walk that distance alone after dark. I will drive you home in Mr. Chase’s gig.”
“Please do not trouble yourself,” Evangeline begged. “This part of the country is perfectly safe. I do not want to spoil your evening.”
“You will do nothing of the kind,” Abigail insisted as Evangeline collected her bonnet and shawl. “If I take another sip of punch, I will turn into a lemon and I cannot dance another step in these slippers for they pinch something vicious. Wait here while I tell the others we are going.”
Much as she appreciated Abigail’s concern, Evangeline could not do what she asked. It was vital she get away on her own into the cool, calm night, where she could compose herself. If that failed, at least the darkness would hide any tears she was foolish enough to let fall.
The instant Abigail disappeared from view, Evangeline slipped outside and hurried away. Even the waiting coachmen took no notice of her early departure. She made her way though the darkened village, careful not to draw any attention to herself. Once out in the moon-dappled countryside on the road to Amberwood, she heaved a great sigh that was part relief and part anguish.
The night seemed to want to comfort her. The breeze rustling through the leaves and the distant gurgle of the river were two of the most soothing sounds she could imagine. The summer air was scented with the wholesome sweetness of new-mown hay and clover. From the heavens, the lady in the moon looked down on her with a pitying gaze.
But before she had a proper chance to reflect on the events of the evening, Evangeline heard a vehicle approaching from behind and glimpsed the bobbing glow of a lantern. A moment later, the gig overtook her.
“Really, Miss Brookes,” she called in a sharper voice than she intended, “it was not necessary for you to come after me like this.”
“I am not Miss Brookes,” Jasper replied. “And I believe it was entirely necessary that I find you.”
* * *
Hearing Evangeline’s voice, as intrepid as ever, set Jasper’s heart beating properly again for the first time since he’d set off after her. He was torn between the urge to rage at her for frightening him by running off and an equally powerful one to gather her in his arms and deluge her face with kisses.
He doubted she would react well to either of those.
So instead he said, “Climb in. I will fetch you the rest of the way home.”
It was not a very gallant offer, but she had managed to get herself out of the gig very capably only a few hours ago. Besides, he did not trust himself to help her up without giving way to his longing to embrace her.
To his relief, Evangeline did as he asked with no argument. When she was seated safely beside him, Jasper jogged the reins, and the horse continued on its way at a more sedate pace than it had come from the village.
After considering and discarding several possible openings, he said, “You should not have gone off on your own. You know that, don’t you?”
“Indeed I do not,” she replied stoutly, though her voice sounded as if it had been stretched thin. “What I do know is that I should never have come in the first place.”
“Please don’t say that,” he begged her.
“Why not?” she demanded. “It is true. I made a fool of myself stumbling around the dance floor all evening.”
Jasper sensed there was more to it than that. Had his forward behavior made her regret attending the assembly? “I doubt anyone else noticed. Folks around here know you have more important things to do than practice dancing.”
“So have I.” Evangeline shifted a little on the seat beside him. Was she trying to inch as far from him as possible? “I am a working woman with responsibilities and plans, not a fine lady with no aim in life but to secure a husband. I had no business traipsing about an assembly at all hours, drinking punch and chattering away about a lot of nonsense.”
Jasper flinched. Had he deluded himself that she might be receptive to his approaches? Perhaps he should have asked his courting teacher for a lesson on how to tell when he was winning a lady’s regard and when she was trying to politely discourage him. “I suppose you think I was chattering nonsense this evening when I tried to tell you how I feel?”
“Perhaps you were. You might have been practicing your courting technique on me to prepare yourself to propose to Miss Webster. The two of you made a very well-matched pair on the dance floor.”
There could be no mistaking the plaintive note in her voice. It wrung Jasper’s heart even as it gave him a sweet taste of hope.
“Did we? Is that why you left early, because seeing Miss Webster and me together made you feel the way I did watching the squire make up to you?”
“Why should you care about the squire?” she demanded. “He means nothing to me!”
“Perhaps not, but you mean a great deal to me, Evangeline.” There, he’d said it as plain and bold as could be—the thing he’d been trying to tell her all evening in spite of her efforts to discourage him. Was it too soon to declare his feelings or years too late?
Evangeline did not reply, which made him fear he should have held his tongue. The last thing he wanted was for her to lump him in with Squire Brunskill—a man of long acquaintance who had destroyed her respect for him with his sudden clumsy overtures.
Since it was impossible to take back his declaration, Jasper forged ahead, even if it meant digging himself in deeper. “Life is not a dance floor, you know. It does not matter how well matched a couple may appear. The important thing is how well in step they are in essentials and how much they care for one another.”
How he wished it were light out so he could see Evangeline’s expression and look into her eyes. They would tell him whether or not he dared hope, even if she refused to speak...or could not bring herself to.
Desperate to provoke some response from her, he demanded, “Do you want me to marry Miss Webster, even if it is you I care for?”
“Yes!” she cried as if he had tormented the confession out of her. That one outburst seemed to uncork a jug of potently fermented emotion. It spewed forth in a torrent of frenzied weeping, amid which Jasper thought he heard her sob, “No!”
He had been paying almost no heed to his driving, trusting the horse to find its way home at whatever speed suited it. Now he abandoned any pretense of attention. Dropping the reins, he reached for Evangeline, as he had longed to do all evening. He had never thought he would hear her in tears. Not long ago, he would have believed her incapable of weeping. Now he knew it must require terrible provocation. Delighted as he was to glimpse her feelings at last, he reproached himself for distressing her.
“Shh!” He wrapped his arms around her the way he would one of his children if they were hurt or upset. His feelings for her were every bit as strong as for them. He wanted to provide for Evangeline and protect her, comfort her and care for her. After a lifetime spent caring for others, she deserved all that and more. “There now, dear heart, it will be all right. I will not do anything you don’t want. You do care for me a little, after all, don’t you?”
She was still weeping too hard to speak, but he could feel her head move up and down against his shoulder in a welcome nod of agreement.
“That is the best news I have heard in years!” A powerful wave of happiness swept over Jasper, leaving behind a film of briny moisture in his eyes.
“We were meant for one a
nother, you and me.” He savored the sensation of her in his arms, where she so obviously belonged. “I wish I’d seen it sooner, but I am thankful I found out before it was too late.”
Evangeline’s weeping eased to a series of sniffles. No doubt she realized she had nothing to cry about now that they understood one another. A happy, fulfilling life stretched ahead of them—one he was eager to begin.
He fished out a handkerchief and swiped it over her face in the darkness, his touch awkward but tender. “Dry your eyes now, my sweet, and I will do everything in my power to give you no cause for tears again.”
Evangeline reached up and took the handkerchief from him. She wiped her eyes properly then blew her nose. Her bonnet had slipped back off her hair, allowing Jasper to press his cheek against the silken strands.
That did not provide enough of an outlet for the tenderness he felt toward her. When Evangeline had finished drying her tears, Jasper cupped her chin and raised her face to his so he might kiss her properly on the lips.
He began with a soft, almost tentative approach. Part of him still could not quite believe he had been blessed to find love a second time, especially with such a fine woman, who was every inch his match. He marveled that he could still remember how to kiss a woman after years of bereavement, during which he had driven himself in an effort to forget what he was missing.
But at the first brush of her soft, full lips, it all came back to him. Evangeline’s response, hesitant yet sweetly eager, told him that she had not been kissed by another man. Jasper considered that a precious gift and a treasured responsibility. He sought to make it an experience that would stir her senses and her heart, leaving her without a doubt of the depth of his feelings for her.
Earlier, Jasper had wished it were day so he could divine Evangeline’s feelings by looking at her. Now he realized sight was far too limited a sense to fully communicate all the subtle complexities their hearts held. He blessed the warm, fragrant summer night that cast a veil of privacy over them, giving the delightful illusion that nothing and no one existed outside the circle of their embrace.
Then suddenly the gig lurched and sped up as the horse neared home. It dragged Jasper and Evangeline into the well-lit courtyard of Amberwood. A stable boy, who must have been watching for the party’s return, ran toward the gig calling out to them.
Jarred from the quiet shadows of intimacy, Jasper pulled away from Evangeline and seized the reins. She drew back just as abruptly as he, adjusting her bonnet to cover the chestnut tresses he had kissed only moments ago. It felt like much longer. And it seemed like a whole other lifetime ago they had set out for the village assembly.
So much had changed since then and a bright new future stretched before them. Jasper could scarcely wait to share their happiness with the children, for he knew they would be almost as delighted as he to have Evangeline as part of their family.
* * *
For twelve blissful hours, Evangeline lived in a hazy dream of perfect happiness.
Jasper’s kiss tingled on her lips. His heartfelt declaration of his feelings and the tender endearments he had addressed to her echoed in her thoughts, drowning out any reluctance. Emotions she had long stifled welled up in her heart, leaving no room for fear or doubt. She knew only that the man she cared for returned her feelings without reservation.
Her heart seemed to dance on air, encased in a delicate soap bubble of shimmering rainbows. She fell asleep with Jasper’s handkerchief clutched in her hand and woke from the sweetest dream to find it still there, proof that the events of the previous night were more than some moonlit fancy.
The children were already awake and eating their breakfast with Jane when Evangeline emerged, drowsy but smiling, to join them.
“Did you enjoy the dancing last night?” asked Matthew, his head cocked to one side in a quizzical way that reminded Evangeline of a bright-eyed bird.
“Very much,” she said, ruffling his dark hair. How like his dear father’s it was.
“Did you dance with Papa?” inquired Emma in her shy manner that seemed to ask something more. Had the perceptive child sensed the feelings her father and governess had managed to conceal, even from themselves, until last night?
“Of course.” Brushing Emma’s cheek with the back of her fingers, she recalled the way Jasper had clasped her hand, as if she were a priceless treasure he was proud to touch with care. “Your father was kind enough to dance with all the ladies.”
She was the one he had wanted to dance with, though. Evangeline knew he would have claimed her company exclusively if propriety had not decreed otherwise.
“I wonder if that is why Papa did not come to breakfast with us this morning,” Alfie pondered between spoonfuls of porridge. “Perhaps dancing with all those ladies tired him out and he needs to rest.”
“Perhaps so.” Evangeline beamed at Alfie as if he’d made the cleverest remark she had ever heard.
In truth, she thought it more likely that Jasper did not want the children to see them together and guess their feelings before they had reached an understanding.
They had been prevented from discussing their future last night by the arrival of the other carriages so soon after them. Not wanting to risk embarrassing Jasper or Miss Webster, Evangeline had slipped away to the nursery before any of the guests noticed her tear-stained face and the radiant smile she could not hide.
“You look different this morning.” Owen regarded her with a grave countenance.
Evangeline tried to quench the hot tingle in her cheeks, without success. “It is probably the effect of my late night—pallor, dark circles under my eyes. That’s one of the reasons it is important to get a good sleep.”
Owen’s nose wrinkled up in a way that made her want to kiss it. “That makes no sense. You look better...prettier.”
“He’s right,” Rosie agreed before Evangeline could pretend to dismiss the compliment she secretly cherished. “You look like one of the princesses in my book of fairy tales.”
Evangeline brushed a kiss on Rosie’s plump cheek, something she did not do nearly as often with her pupils as she would have liked. “I think you and your brother need to rub the sleep out of your eyes. Now, let’s finish eating so we can go for a walk. It is a glorious morning.”
As they finished their breakfast, Evangeline caught Matthew and Emma exchanging puzzled looks.
“Are we going to practice more for the concert with Miss Webster?” asked Rosie as they headed off for their walk a while later.
“Perhaps.” Evangeline smiled down at the child, trying not to betray her uncertainty.
Would the concert go ahead as planned, with Jasper and Miss Webster singing a love ballad after he had declared his feelings for someone else?
Evangeline wondered how the lady would react when she found out. Had Margaret Webster come to care for Jasper, the way she had? Of course, she must. What woman with a functioning heart could keep from losing it to such a man, especially if he made the slightest effort to win her? Jasper had gone to great lengths to secure Miss Webster’s affections—even seeking courting lessons to aid his efforts.
A wave of bilious shame rolled through Evangeline’s stomach. Never in her life had she stolen anything that belonged to someone else, but suddenly she knew how a thief with a conscience must feel. It seemed as if her soul was shriveling into something small and hard.
While the children plucked wild raspberries from a patch of brambles they had discovered, Evangeline told herself she had not stolen Jasper’s heart from Margaret Webster. She had never intended to care for him nor tried to make him care for her—quite the opposite, in fact. It was not her fault he had developed feelings for her.
But try as she might to assuage her conscience, the fact remained that her happiness would surely cause heartache, perhaps even heartbreak, to an innocent woman who had never been an
ything but kind to her.
The shimmer was rapidly coming off Evangeline’s fragile soap bubble by the time she and the children returned from their walk.
“Go wash your hands now so you don’t stain your clothes,” she bid her pupils in a no-nonsense tone they were more accustomed to hearing from her. “And you must change your stockings, Alfie. Those brambles snagged them terribly.”
Jane appeared then to help tidy the children up. But first she handed Evangeline a letter. “This came in the post for you, miss.”
Evangeline thanked her and sank onto the nearest chair to read a few lines while her young charges were occupied. They returned shortly to find her still reading and gnawing at her lower lip.
“Is it bad news?” asked Emma in an anxious tone.
“There’s nothing the matter with Kit, is there?” added Matthew, referring to the stepson of Evangeline’s friend Leah, with whom he and Alfie corresponded.
“I’m certain Kit is quite well.” Evangeline did her best to mask her distress for the children’s sake. “My letter is not from Leah...I mean, Lady Northam.”
“Who sent it, then?” Rosie peered at the letter.
“Mar...er...Mrs. Radcliffe.” Even though Marian had been wed for four years, Evangeline still found it hard to think of her and the others by their married names. “Remember, I told you about her. She has two adopted daughters close to Emma’s age and a little son. They live near Newark in Nottinghamshire.”
Even as she spoke, she tried to think of a way to secure a few momentsʼ privacy so she could finish reading Marian’s letter and digest its contents. “Jane, will you please take the children out to the garden? I shall be along shortly.”
“Yes, miss.” The nursery maid beckoned the young Chases. “Come along, everyone.”
A very subdued group followed her. Poor dears! They must wonder what mysterious events were rocking their secure little world this morning.