Eveline opened her mouth to reply, but Richard cut in: “I have said, Mr. Seton, that I do not want your money.”
“So you say!” retorted the merchant.
“So I say and so it will be!” Richard said impatiently. “You may talk with my solicitors and tell them to tie up any funds, property, what have you, so that I may not touch it.”
“Stop!” Eveline cried out. Arms akimbo, she gazed angrily at both Richard and her father. “Will you stop this wrangling? It is nonsensical, and nothing to the point.” She turned to her father. “Papa, I know you are angry, but the fact remains there is nothing that can be done to save my reputation except for me to marry Lord Clairmond. He asked me to marry him at the cottage, and I accepted. If it means I shall be living in circumstances that I am not used to, so be it. I shall adapt, believe me.”
Mr. Seton stared at his daughter for a moment, then let out a crack of wry laughter. He shook his head. “Your mother always said you took your stubbornness from me, and so it is! Very well, then!” He turned and gave Richard an ironic look. “I give you my permission, Lord Clairmond. You may marry my daughter.” He sighed, then put aside his quill, rubbing his forehead. “Go now. I must write a letter to my solicitors and yours, so as to arrange matters.”
“As you wish,” Richard replied and bowed. He turned to leave and discovered that Eveline had silently left the room.
He stepped out of the room just in time to see Eveline hurry down the hall, and he lengthened his steps to catch up with her.
“Eveline!” He reached out and seized her arm.
She stopped immediately and looked pointedly at his hand on her arm. Then her eyes, full of anger and confusion, met his.
“Yes?” she said coolly.
Richard released her. “I must talk to you.”
“I have agreed to marry you. Papa has consented to it. What else is there to discuss?” She pressed her lips together, as if to stop herself from saying more, and proceeded down the hall to the parlor.
He did not know what to say. He wanted her to understand that he had taken a very large risk in coming back to her, but that he had to come back. But it was not something he could tell her, and looking at her defiant eyes and remembering Mr. Seton’s patent disbelief, he also did not know whether she would believe him. All he could do was marry her, redeem her good name, and hope that she would forgive him someday.
“I had to come back to you,” he could not help saying.
“Oh, really? When did you come to believe that?” she retorted. “When you realized perhaps there was more to me than what I gave you at the cottage?” Eveline thrust open the parlor door and went through, and he caught the door before she could slam it after her. He closed it quietly behind him.
“Yes, I admit it.” She spat the words behind her. “I know now that I acted the harlot for you, though I did not know it then.” She went to the mantlepiece and leaned her forehead against it. Her hand curled around a small Limoges egg that sat near the ledge. “And yes, am I not vulgar for even mentioning it? But I am only a merchant’s daughter, after all!” There was an agony of shame and self-mockery in her voice, a thing he had not ever heard from her in the weeks before their seclusion in the cottage. “I am surprised that you bothered to come back! Why, what difference could any of it make to the common-born Miss Seton?”
In two swift strides Richard had crossed the space between them and seized Eveline by the shoulders. She glanced at him, and then looked away, but he captured her chin with one hand and made her look at him. Glaring at him, she tried to pull away.
“Look at me, Eveline!”
She stilled, and then reluctantly met his eyes.
“You no doubt will not believe me, and I would not blame you for it. If you hate me for leaving you to your humiliation, then do so—I admit I deserve it. Yes, I admit I stupidly thought of you as ‘only’ a merchant’s daughter at first, but as I came to know you, it did not matter. Yes, I even admit I had set myself out to seduce you. I did tell myself yet again when I left that you were not of my class. But it did not matter! Every day I saw you in my mind’s eye, and I hated myself. Every night I dreamed of you, and I despised what I had done.”
Her lip curled. “Oh, you came to desire me despite my lowly state, did you? Or was it your honor that pricked you so?”
“Listen to me!” Anger flared high in him, and he shook her slightly. “I care nothing that you are a merchant’s daughter, and as for honor, if I said it was for that reason, you would not believe me, though it’s also true. It was for you, Eveline, though I was too stupid to realize how much you meant to me when I left.”
She stared at him, still defiant, the look of disbelief still in her eyes, but there was uncertainty in her face as well. “How can I mean anything to you at all?”
“Oh, God.” Richard let out a despairing laugh. She was his lifeline, his road to self-respect, and he could not tell her. “Oh, God, you can’t know, can you?” He pulled her closer and leaned his forehead against her hair. “Will it mean anything to you if I told you I love you?”
“I—”
He cut her answer off with a kiss, fierce and demanding. He did not want to know what she felt before he convinced her, and he must have that chance. She was stiff in his arms at first, and he could feel the porcelain egg still in her hand hard against his chest. She softened against him, and he heard something fall to the floor between them with a sharp cracking sound, and her hand uncurled and flattened. Slowly, her arms came around his neck. Profound relief surged within him, and he, too, relaxed, his kiss becoming gentle and searching. Her lips responded, and she moved closer to him. He had his answer, he believed. And yet, when they parted, she still looked uncertain.
“Eveline, it is true …” Richard said earnestly, cupping her chin and kissing her once more.
She moved away from him, reluctantly, it seemed. “It is not that I don’t think you love me, Richard. It is just that I am no longer confident of what I know of people. I had thought I could get a sense of people better than I had apparently done.” She paused, then looked up at him. “Why did you do it, Richard? Set out to seduce me, that is?”
Richard closed his eyes briefly. “I cannot tell you now. Later, perhaps. But not now. Please believe me when I tell you I cannot.”
“I see.”
There was no censure in her voice, not even disappointment; she spoke in a considering, thoughtful manner. But somehow Richard felt that he had fallen short, perhaps because her voice seemed withdrawn. A sense of dissatisfaction grew in him. She smiled a puzzled smile at him, and the dissatisfaction turned to resolution. It seemed so far that by marrying her he would escape one horrible consequence of the task Teufel had set him—Eveline’s ruin. Perhaps … perhaps he had escaped even more than he had thought. A tendril of hope pushed itself to the surface of his thoughts, and he smiled down at his betrothed. He would make it up to her somehow, show her that he was more than the wastrel and rake her father thought him, that she no doubt thought him. Perhaps he was not all that she thought him before he seduced her, but surely there was something she had seen in him that was true.
Chapter Twelve
Eveline fingered the white silk lace veil, a confection made of thread so fine it seemed it was made of spider-silk. She held it up between herself and the mirror and could still see, as if through a mist, her reflection twice as pale as she looked this morning. Setting down the veil on her lap, she stared at herself in the mirror. She should look happier than she did. It was her wedding day, after all, and that made everything right with the world.
Did not all her Bath friends return to call upon her once the announcement of the betrothal and wedding date appeared in the newspaper? And did she not receive a nervous apology from the man who had accosted her in the library? Did she not now go to all the assemblies and balls—except that she was received with more respect and friendliness than before? Why, she should be ecstatic at the profound difference in her social state, now
that her reputation had been so brilliantly retrieved!
Nevertheless, she was not. Oh, she had smiled and danced and chatted cheerfully at all the functions she had attended in the past month, but though everyone had acted as if nothing had occurred to her except for her brilliant—that was their word—brilliant match, though she was showered with approval, it seemed oddly unreal to her. Her feet would be tired, her face aching with smiles, her throat sore with talking—these things were real. But the sudden change from pariah to the latest peeress-to-be, the welcoming smiles where there had been only drawn-away skirts, made her feel that she had gone from real life to acting in a play. Eveline sighed. She should be grateful. Lady Brookland had done a great deal of work spreading the news of her betrothal. The countess had made it known the betrothal was a long-standing one and kept quite secret, which of course made Bath society nod their heads wisely and say they had known it all along. However, it did not set well with Eveline at all. Her former disgrace had suddenly stripped the mask from those she thought she had known, and she did not feel the confidence she once had in her powers of perception. Not even with Richard.
She pushed aside the thought and steeled her mind to the wedding that was to come in the next few hours. There were the last minute things to be done, of course, as there was with any large event. She carefully folded the veil, and put an apron upon her dress in preparation for descending into the kitchens. She had arranged the wedding feast, and she needed to make sure Cook had all she needed in help and supplies. Thankfully, Lady Brookland had taken over writing out the invitations—Eveline had protested at first, but the countess had insisted, and Eveline had relented, acknowledging Lady Brookland’s superior knowledge of the ton and society ways.
There was a knock at the door, and at Eveline’s bid to enter, the door burst open, and Nurse Connor came in, eyeing Eveline sternly.
“What is this? An apron! Good heavens, Miss Eveline! Is it the housekeeping you’re doing now? And you to be wed in the next few hours!”
“Oh, Conny, you know it is not housework! I must go down to the kitchens to make sure Cook has all she needs to finish preparing the wedding feast.”
“Sure and it’s a bad set of servants your father has hired, that you must make sure they are doing their duty!” Nurse said disbelievingly. “Laidlaw will take care of it, and well you should know it!” Clicking her tongue in disapproval, Nurse rang the bell for a maid. “Keep your mind on looking as a bride should, miss! It will take at least an hour to put on the gown, and to do your hair up properly—no doubt more. So it’s best you start preparing now.”
Eveline smiled wryly. “I wish I could feel more useful than a dressmaker’s doll at this moment.”
Nurse frowned. “There’s nothing more useful you can do than to get that dress put on you.” A slight knock announced the maid, and her eyes were shining with excitement when she entered.
“Oh, Mrs. Connor, Laidlaw said I might ’elp Miss with the dressin’—it’s true, ain’t it?”
Nurse looked over the maid with a grim expression while the maid shifted anxiously from one foot to the other. Nurse nodded her head. “Very well! But mind you do as I say, Susan!”
“Oh, thank you, Mrs. Connor! I won’t fail yer, truly I won’t!”
Eveline suppressed a smile at the maid’s enthusiasm. She knew the whole household was excited about her impending marriage to Lord Clairmond, and it would be a wretched thing indeed if she were to spoil their enjoyment by seeming to have doubts about it. So she allowed herself to be pushed and pulled about for the next two hours until her two attendants stepped back to view their handiwork.
The dress was cut low, but the same spider-silk lace fabric that made up her veil covered her bosom to her throat. It was a pretty conceit, for it was so sheer that it could make no claim to modesty. Her arms were covered by the lace, also, indeed, lace covered the whole dress, except for the front of it, where the shimmer of silk satin was allowed to peek through. Eveline looked into the mirror and was glad that pink piping edged the dress; the unrelieved white would have made her look more pale than she was.
Nurse nodded to Eveline’s reflection in approval. “Now there’s a lady fit to be seen at a wedding.” Her brow creased for a moment. “Eh, but you’ll be wanting a bit of pink in those cheeks, Miss Evie, for all that the white suits you.” She pinched Eveline’s cheeks lightly, but the color subsided quickly. Nurse frowned.
“Oh, Conny, never mind! I am merely nervous; you know I never have any color when I am so.”
“You can pinken ’em summat if you wet a red ribbon and rub it on yer cheeks, miss,” Susan volunteered.
Nurse turned on the maid in an instant. “Is it paint you’re suggesting to Miss Eveline, now? And I suppose I should get some lampblack for her brows next, so she can look like one of those besoms that prance about on the stage?”
“Oh, no, Mrs. Connor! I never … !” cried the maid.
“Hmph! Well, see that you don’t!” Nurse turned and gazed assessingly at Eveline’s face. “Howsomever, ’twouldn’t hurt to have a little bit of color …” She went to Eveline’s dresser and rummaged about in a top drawer.
“Conny! I am shocked!” Eveline said and threw a laughing, conspiratory look at the little maid. “Are you suggesting that I should … color my cheeks?”
“Well, and nobody said it was a sin to paint the face on a waxwork, which is what your wedding guests will think is coming up the church aisle if we don’t do something for your cheeks. And that’s the truth of it, Miss Evie!” Nurse pounced on something in the drawer with a triumphant cry and drew out a deep pink ribbon. “I think that will do; what do you think, Susan?”
The maid nodded her head vigorously. “Oh, yes, Mrs. Connor, ’twas what me own sister used when she—” She gave a guilty look at Nurse, and Eveline remembered Susan had a sister who was lady’s maid to an actress. Eveline smiled reassuringly at the maid, and Susan continued: “That is, ’tis a very pretty pink, Mrs. Connor.”
Nurse wet the ribbon and rubbed it upon Eveline’s cheek.
Eveline surveyed herself in the mirror. “My goodness, Conny, it does make me look less pale.” She did indeed look better. She shook her head mock sorrowfully. “But I never did think you would stoop to using paint, Nurse!”
“Now it’s not as if I stooped to anything, miss! Not ever would I—” Nurse caught Eveline’s laughing look and chuckled. “You were ever a teasing one, Miss Eveline!” She turned to the maid. “Get on with you, Susan, and be sure you change into your best frock!”
“O’ course, Mrs. Connor!” The maid gave a little curtsey, and almost ran out of the room in her eagerness to be part of the wedding preparations.
Nurse gazed fondly at Eveline. “I’ve thought of your marrying often, Miss Evie, but never did I think to see you look like a princess, just like I’d imagined it.” She sighed sentimentally and dabbed at the tears at the corners of her eyes. “Well, now! It’s time I should get myself tidied up! Lord only knows I wouldn’t want to shame Mr. Seton by looking like a fishwife!” She gave one last adjusting tweak to Eveline’s veil, then left the room.
Eveline sighed, and gazed at her reflection again. She looked quite well, she thought, and Papa should be pleased. Would Richard, though? Perhaps. She wondered what he would look like at the church. Would he be as uncertain as she?
If only he had not left Bath after their stay at the cottage! She had been so sure of him, so sure of his basic goodness. Even now a part of her could not believe what he had admitted—that he had set out to seduce her from the very start. It was a long time ago—before he had gone to the army—that he had been called a rake, and every report afterward had shown he’d changed his ways. It was what Papa’s solicitors had found out about him, too, not just from the rumors amongst the ton. Richard had been horribly wounded while trying to defend a fallen friend, and it had been only the strength of his will and the devotion of his valet that had kept him alive and whole. He had never been known to
have cheated or tell a lie, and his family heritage had always upheld extreme honor as their standard. How could it be that someone of such reported integrity purposely would have set out to ruin her?
But he had not, after all, had he? came her mind’s voice, and Eveline had to admit it was true. He could not, at the end, abandon her, and surely that was to the good? And yet it puzzled her. Why had he done it at all?
It was a piece of the puzzle that did not fit, a maze that had only dead ends, and an ache in her heart that would not go away. The only other answer was that her perceptions were at fault, her usual good judgment gone awry. Papa had said that love often got in the way of a man’s judgment, and apparently it had happened to her. And yet … and yet there was the persistent niggling idea that something was missing.
Eveline shook her head. She was to be married, and that solved the problem of her ruined reputation. For now, it was enough. Perhaps, once they married, she would find out. She smiled at herself. There was no perhaps about it. Her Papa had always said that there was never a problem she left alone until she solved it. He had been right. She would not leave this puzzle about Richard alone, until she knew. He would not tell her why he had done what he had done; that did not matter. She would find out in other ways.
A knock sounded on the door, and Eveline jumped, startled out of her thoughts.
“Miss Eveline!” called her nurse’s voice. “ ’Tis time!”
An odd sensation of heat and cold at once went through her, and her stomach tightened. She made herself relax and breathe deeply. “I am coming!”
Eveline opened the door and went down the stairs, Nurse hovering around her all the while. The coach was waiting, and when she stepped into it, she gasped in surprise.
“Papa! What are you doing here? I thought you would go ahead of me to the church!”
Her father smiled broadly. “Now how could I not walk beside my daughter at her wedding?”
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