After about fifteen minutes, Pritchett Street appeared before him. He wasn’t certain which way the mews were, so he made a guess and started down the left side of the street. After a few minutes, he assumed he’d gone the wrong way, pivoted, and started in the other direction. A flash of a lady’s skirt caught his eye further down the lane, but by the time he got to where he’d seen her, she was nowhere to be found. Probably just a maid out on morning errands.
At long last, he found the mews, but Lady Alicia was nowhere to be seen. Damn. She’d make him wait, would she? Fine. He’d made the trip, he wasn’t about to turn back now, no matter how perturbed he might be.
He leaned against a wall and rested his head against the bricks. Memories of last night came flooding in all at once. Grace, so beautiful, so warm. Their bodies joined together in sweet ecstasy. He closed his eyes and let himself be carried away, back to that moment. He could hear their gasps and murmurs and—
Evan’s eyes flashed open. That wasn’t in his head, was it? He was actually hearing those things now. A sneaking suspicion came over him as he glanced toward the doors to the mews. What the—
He swung the door open and the blissful sounds of sexual intimacy grew louder. He stomped to the stalls, but apparently the pair was too enraptured to hear him. It wasn’t until he peered over the half door of the horseless stall and said, “Will you two be finished soon?” that they took notice.
Lady Alicia, who sat atop a strapping young man in all her glory, nearly hit the ceiling with fright. “Somerset!” she screeched as she removed herself from the man’s cock and reached for a scrap of clothing with which to cover herself.
“Oh, no need to hide, my dear,” he said, fighting to keep his tone even as he leveled her paramour with a firm glare. “It’ll be mine soon enough, anyway.”
The young man, who was obviously the footman Grace had spoken of, looked as if he wanted to put a fist through Evan’s face. Or stomach. Or both. But clearly he was tongue-tied.
“What are you doing here?” Alicia asked, her voice high pitched and frantic. He’d never seen her eyes filled with so much fear.
Evan procured the note. “Apparently, you invited me,” he said, tossing the letter over the door into the stall.
Alicia grabbed for it and scanned it quickly. “This isn’t my handwriting. I’ve been setup.”
Evan didn’t have to wonder who might have done such a thing. Grace. It was a desperate move. One he understood, but made his blood boil at the same time. Hadn’t he been clear with her? Had he minced words? No. Yet she continued to meddle, and in quite a grand manner.
“Well, of course you have,” the footman yelled, having finally found his voice. “Why the devil would you invite your own fiancé here?” And then he turned to Evan, alarm in his eyes. “You’re not going to have me sacked, are you?”
“Why would I?” Evan wondered.
Relief flooded his boyish features. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Then he turned to Lady Alicia. “I’ve only one favor to ask you, dearest,” he said, his tone dripping with syrupy sarcasm.
Alicia blinked at him, clearly terrified of what he was going to say.
“If you’re going to continue to have these, er…meetings, shall we say? Do make sure you bathe yourself before coming to my bed. Something about the smell of horse shit ruins the mood for me.”
Both Alicia and the footman stared back at him slack jawed. There was nothing else to say, though, so he turned and stalked out of the stable the way he’d come. He had a certain next-door neighbor he needed to deal with now.
~*~
Grace slinked into the shadows of the stall where she’d been hiding as Evan passed by. Her heart was racing—she could hardly catch her breath. She simply couldn’t believe what she’d just heard. Tears welled in her eyes. All this trouble, this grand plan to make him realize she hadn’t been lying after all. That his betrothed was cuckolding him. Yet even with the proof staring him right in the face, he didn’t care. How could he not care? How could he stare at them, naked and intimate together, and only demand that Lady Alicia bathe?
Grace wanted to throw herself to the ground in frustration. Or throw a large rock at his head. Maybe then he’d see sense.
The muffled voices of the two lovers brought her back to reality. She had to get out of there. Lord only knew if they’d have another go at one another, and Grace didn’t care to sit there and listen. Besides, if Lady Alicia caught her there, it would be obvious Grace had been the one to set her up.
On silent feet, she darted from the building, out onto the street and then ran all the way home. She didn’t come across Evan on the way, thank heaven, and when she reached her residence, she darted inside as quickly as possible.
“There you are!” Chloe exclaimed. She stood in the foyer with Andrew and Samantha, all dressed for church. She looked up the stairs, then back at the front door. “I thought you’d be getting ready for services.”
Grace only stood there, unable to speak, unable to come up with a lie good enough to appease her sister. She was too tired, too drained, and horribly out of breath.
“Andrew, take Sam outside and wait for me,” Chloe instructed. “I’ll only be a moment.”
Andrew gave Grace a little wink. “Good luck, Gracie.” And then he did as Chloe had instructed.
As soon as the door clicked shut behind them, Chloe turned to Grace. “What’s happened?”
“I can’t…that is…I—”
Alarm registered in her sister’s eyes. “Oh, Gracie! Have you been hurt?” She grabbed onto Grace’s hands and began to look her over, head to toe. “Why have you got hay all over you?”
“Please, Clo,” Grace finally managed. “I can’t talk about it. I…I want to go home.”
Chloe gasped. “You don’t want to finish out the Season?”
Tears sprung to Grace’s eyes and she looked down at the marble floor to keep her sister from seeing. She was just as shocked at the admission as her sister was, but it was what she needed to do. “No,” she said, shaking her head. “I just want to go home.”
Chloe wrapped her arms about Grace, drawing her into a warm embrace. “All right, darling,” she whispered. “Whatever you want.”
Eleven
As soon as Evan returned home, he penned off a brief note to Grace.
Stop.
That was it. No signature, no salutation. And then he had it sent round to the Wetherby townhouse. He expected she’d send a response soon thereafter, but a half hour passed, then an hour, an hour and a half. Her silence was driving him bloody mad. What was she doing anyway? Plotting to have him walk in on another couple in a compromising position? What else would a harebrained ninny do on a Sunday morning?
“Damn it!” Evan banged his fist on the desk. “Of course she’s gone to church with her family.”
He rushed to the front parlor and peered casually out the window. No sign of them yet. Perhaps he had already missed them? But he figured he ought to stay there and keep watch, just in case they’d yet to return. Then he could catch Grace before she went inside. Invite her for a walk, so that he might tell her, in no uncertain terms, he did not appreciate her machinations.
“Evan?”
He jumped nearly out of his skin. He whirled from the window to find his sister standing there, looking the picture of loveliness.
“Bunny,” he said, clutching his chest and breathing heavily. “You shouldn’t sneak up on a person like that.”
“I’m sorry. I was sure you would have heard me come in.”
Evan hadn’t heard a thing; he was so focused on Grace. On seeing her, being near her…
No. On reprimanding her for her actions.
“What are you doing here?” He gestured to the sitting area and Bunny joined him there.
“Is Mother at home?” she asked once they’d settled into their seats.
“If she is, she’s still abed. Why?”
His sister’s throat worked. “No
reason, I…I have something to tell you both, actually. I had hoped to tell you at the same time, but I might as well go ahead and tell you.”
Evan waited. Clearly, this was difficult for his sister to say, whatever it was.
“I’ve lost the baby.” The words came out in a rush and she averted her gaze.
Oh, God. That wasn’t at all what he expected to hear this morning. His heart ached for his sister. “My poor Bunny,” Evan said, his tone grave. He couldn’t imagine what such a loss felt like. He moved to the settee where she sat and gathered her in his arms, even though she wasn’t crying. As a matter of fact, she didn’t seem terribly sad about the situation at all, but perhaps she was still in a state of shock.
“It’s all right, really,” she said, her voice muffled in his shirt.
“Does Beeston know?”
She tried to shake her head, but it was awkward, pressed up against Evan’s chest. “No. I’m a bit afraid to tell him.”
Evan could understand that. “I will be there when you tell him then.”
Bunny pulled away and stared at him. “You will?”
“Anything to protect you.” He smiled and ruffled her hair, but she jumped to her feet and rounded the settee.
“About that,” she said, wringing her hands.
“About what?”
“Evan.” She whirled about, her voice emphatic all of a sudden. “I do hope you don’t blame yourself for my marriage to Beeston.”
Evan narrowed his eyes. “What are you talking about? Where is this coming from?”
“Oh, nowhere!” She waved her hands. “I just…I don’t want you to feel…guilty. That’s all.”
A pit was forming in his stomach, and he was certain if that pit had a name, it would be Grace. He’d never spoken of his guilt to anyone but her. “Who have you been talking to?”
“Goodness, Evan!” Bunny clutched her hand to her chest and laughed nervously. “You needn’t be so suspicious—”
“Who?” He came to his full height and stared his sister down with his most intimidating glare.
She knew she was cornered. “I’ll not incriminate my friend.”
“What else did you talk about with your…friend?”
“You’ll not intimidate me, Evan,” she finally blurt out. “I’m married to Beeston, remember?”
“All too well.”
“Perhaps you need to stop worrying about Beeston and me, and start focusing on your own impending marriage.”
Not this again. Evan was going to throttle Grace the first chance he got. “My marriage is none of your business.”
“I only want to save you from the same fate I’ve suffered.”
“Save me!” He threw his head back with laughter. “I don’t need saving, dear sister. I’m a man, remember?”
“You don’t know what it’s like,” she said, her tone softening. “I hate Beeston as much as the next person. He’s a horrible excuse for a human being. But he’s still my husband, and deep down, I still want him to care for me.”
“Why?” Evan couldn’t quite wrap his head around it.
Bunny shrugged and a weak smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “I just do. And maybe you’ll feel the same about Lady Alicia one day. You’ll wish you had made a match with someone who cared about and respected you, if not truly loved you.” She paused a moment. “I’ll never know true love,” she went on. “But you still have the chance to change your fate.”
Was it his imagination or had she glanced toward the Wetherby house? It didn’t matter really, did it? His sister was a romantic, so of course she pined for a love match. But he didn’t need that. He needed to assuage his guilt once and for all, and nothing would do that outside of honoring his father’s wishes—that he marry Lady Alicia.
“Well,” he said, not wanting to prolong this conversation anymore, “thank you for your candid thoughts on the matter. Do let me know if you’d like me to be present when you break the news to Beeston.”
He left his sister standing there in the middle of the parlor, looking rather dumbstruck. Part of him felt horrible about it, but another part of him only wanted to be left alone. Or at the very least, very far away from the females in his life.
~*~
By the time her family returned from church, Grace’s things were already packed. The sooner she got out of London, the better. If she stayed any longer, she risked running into him, and she wouldn’t be able to bear looking at him. Even thinking about him made her stomach churn with regret and despair.
She closed her eyes and let the back of her head thump against the window. If she turned around, she’d be able to see his garden, and she didn’t dare risk seeing him out for a stroll, as if nothing of import had happened that morning.
There went her stomach again. Perhaps she should have the chamberpot within arm’s reach if she was going to continue on this line of thinking.
She opened her eyes and scanned her room. It was home for her. More so than her room at her parents’ house in the country. Not that that one wasn’t well appointed or comfortable—a vast improvement over the one she’d grown up in, for sure—but she’d spent so much time here in London. This room was so much more than just a room. It was where she escaped from the bustle of the city, the constant barrage of parties and visits. And it was where she prepared for those very things, or relived them in her head after they were over, daydreaming about the handsome men she’d danced with and the bright future she had as the wife of a peer.
A quiet rapping came at the door.
“Come in,” she called out, but her voice was weak, despondent. She couldn’t help it. Life was looking so very bleak.
The door creaked and Chloe appeared a moment later. “Gracie.”
She wasn’t sure if it was the simple uttering of her name, the tone her sister used or the sad look in her round eyes, but one or all of those things turned her into a blubbering fountain. She didn’t see or hear Chloe cross the room but her arms suddenly came around her and squeezed her tightly.
“What’s happened, Grace?” she asked softly.
Grace didn’t want to tell her, she was so ashamed of her behavior. She might not have been if things had gone her way, but since they didn’t… “I can’t tell you,” she squeaked through the onslaught of tears.
“It’s about that man, isn’t it? The engaged one.”
“Of course it is,” Grace shot back, pulling away from her sister. “And you were right. There. Are you satisfied?”
“Not in the least.” Her sister stared back at her, unwavering sympathy in her eyes. “It was never about me being right, silly Gracie. It was about me protecting you. But if I learned anything from my own situation, it’s that we’re all going to do whatever we want to do. We’ll follow our hearts, even if it means the worst sort of heartache in the end.”
For the first time, Grace dared a look out the window. Both gardens were blessedly empty, and quiet. The flowers went on smiling and dancing in the breeze, as if they had no idea what had gone on there.
“If you want to tell me about it, I’m here to listen,” Chloe said in a quiet voice, prompting Grace to turn away from the window.
Could she tell her sister what she’d done? She mentally ticked off all the important moments of this saga—the kiss in the garden, the discovery about Lady Alicia, the lovemaking at the Rollesbrook Ball—
No. Certainly not. Chloe would have an apoplexy. And besides, Grace wasn’t too keen on reliving all those horrible and wonderful moments herself. It was far too painful to think about.
A scratch came at the door, and Suzie pushed through, dressed for travel. “The carriage is ready,” she said.
“Thank you, Suzie.” Grace swiped the tears from her cheeks and then rose from the window seat, snatched up her reticule and bonnet, and walked out the door.
It had started to rain in the last few minutes, so she hugged everyone goodbye in the entry hall, and then she and Suzie darted to the carriage. As they pulled away, Grace dared
one last glance at the house next door. She scanned the windows, never in a million years expecting to see Evan peering out of one of them. But there he was, standing there like a statue, watching her escape from London. From him.
And her heart ached.
Twelve
Evan barely left his study for the next two days, except to relieve himself on occasion and, of course, to sleep at night. Not that he was sleeping terribly well these days. Not after all that had happened. Not after watching Grace climb aboard a carriage, that had yet to return. He’d seen the footmen loading the carriage with a large trunk, but he’d not imagined it would be for her. The look of her staring out the window at him as she drove off had haunted him perpetually ever since. His heart constricted just thinking of it.
Damn. He needed another drink.
He pushed off out of his soft leather chair and strode across the room to the sidebar. As he poured a large tumbler full of brandy, he continued to try to puzzle out this horrific situation he was in. It bothered him that he didn’t give a rat’s arse about finding Lady Alicia with her footman lover. It should have bothered him, shouldn’t it have? So why was he more upset at Grace leaving London? Was it that he didn’t get the opportunity to scold her for her actions? He never did get to say his piece after all, beyond his curt note that read, Stop.
He threw back a swig of brandy and took pleasure in the painful burn that etched its way down his throat.
You know full well why you’re upset she left.
He tightened his fingers around the glass, and part of him worried he might shatter it in his hand.
“Shut up,” he said to the voice in his head. “I’m not upset she left. I’m not.”
Liar.
Another gulp. “Be. Quiet.” Damn, was he really standing here talking to himself? Is this what he had come to?
Admit it.
“No.”
You’ll not be happy until you do.
“Who cares about being bloody happy? Besides, how happy would I be if I married the poor girl, only to have my mother make our lives miserable?”
The Temptation of the Duke (Regency Romance) Page 11