The Mad Heiress and the Duke – Miss Georgette Quinby: A Regency Romance Novel (Heart of a Gentleman Book 1)
Page 15
“My Lady?” Stanton was eyeing Evelyn with concern.
“Your pardon, Stanton, my mind was elsewhere. May I see the ledgers?” She had already looked at them ad nauseam. They did not change. There was nowhere else to save a farthing. If only her brother was not so loose with his cash.
The stable master’s office was tidy and austere. A simple desk stood in the middle of the room and a window looked out over the pasture, where a few horses were grazing on the yellowed grass. Stanton offered her a chair, and pulled a thick stack of papers from a drawer in his desk. Despite its innocuous look, the ledger was an evil thing, listing out the shortcomings of Evermont’s accounts in neat black figures. Evelyn schooled her features into a neutral expression as she went over the numbers with Stanton, but her emotions were a storm just beneath the placid surface.
Her brother sat somewhere in the manor, wasting his time discussing frivolous affairs over expensive brandy and expensive cigars, while the horses were meted out rations like soldiers on a long march. He planned to have her betrothed, only so his insatiable lust for tawdry women would not need to be tempered by restraint. Her blood boiled at the thought. At the bottom of it all was The Duke of Pemberton, a rake if she had ever known one. The ruin of Evermont lay at his feet, dragging her brother after him with his expensive ways.
“I cannot see any way around it. We shall have to sell another coach. Let the coachman select one, he will know best which one will fetch the highest sum. If it happens to be Frederic’s favorite, well, that would be a shame.” Her mouth was in a tight line.
“Of course, My Lady” Stanton said. “I will see to it this afternoon.”
Evelyn closed the ledger book and pushed the chair back from the desk. She stood at the window and watched the horses for a moment, marveling at their grace as they took off in a sudden burst of speed, kicking up their hind legs and squealing.
“They are like children with their joy, are they not?”
“Very much so.” Stanton had come to stand beside her, one age-spot speckled hand resting on the sill.
“And my foul brother will ruin it all for something as fleeting as smoke,” Evelyn spat out. “He has no sense.”
It was a bold statement to make to a servant, but Stanton had become more than that to Evelyn since her father’s death. Still, the stoic man took a moment to reply.
“If I may speak frankly, My Lady?” He waited for her nod before continuing. “I believe your father’s passing affected you both in different manners. The Lord Evermont has found his own method of coping, as you have found yours.”
He gestured to the barn surrounding them. It was true. She had always shared her father’s interest in horses and had tagged along at his hip since she could walk, but it was not until he was gone that she had thrown herself into the world of it, taking charge as she had every right to.
“My grief does not tear the very house down around us.” Evelyn squared her shoulders. “But I do not believe the blame is Frederic’s alone, no, The Duke has been the impetus for it all. He has dragged my brother down to the depths of depravity, and only one of them has the means of crawling back out. He just does not see what he is doing to my brother—to us.”
“Perhaps that is true, My Lady.” If Stanton agreed with her, it was only his expression that told her so, for the man would not speak ill of one of the Peerage, despite his familiarity with Evelyn. “You are the only good thing your brother has, and it must be a heavy burden to bear.”
“He does not treat me as if I am anything of worth. Just today he spoke of marrying me off!”
“Surely not, with you still in mourning?”
Evelyn threw her hands in the air. “My point, Stanton. He has lost all sense of propriety.”
“If there is anything I may do for you, My Lady, you only need ask,” Stanton said. “I do not know what aid I may be, but—“
She shook her head. She had already asked too much of him, saddling him with her emotions as if he did not have matters to attend to, as short-staffed as she had left him. She lifted her head a bit, gaining control of her broiling emotions.
“Thank you, Stanton, but you have already eased some of my worries just by listening.” Evelyn smiled at him, hoping it hid the tremor in her cheeks as she fought to keep the tears from betraying her. “I will leave you now, as I am sure you have a busy day ahead of you.”
He bowed as she swept by him, and she wished for just a moment that he was her father, and he could wrap her in a hug so tight there was no room for her misery. But he was not, and she was alone on the walk back to the house, where nothing waited her but a fight with her brother. She could not avoid it for a moment longer. She cursed the impediment of her skirts as she made her way up the stairs, where the footman opened the door for her. If she were a man she would have engaged in fisticuffs with him to settle the matter, but she was not. She was a woman and she had little recourse. She hoped she could talk some sense into her obstinate brother.
“Where is Lord Evermont? I would speak with him with some urgency,” she announced.
~.~
Chapter Two
The butler, Mr. Pratt, appeared at Evelyn’s side a moment later to escort her to Frederic. He was a discerning man; perhaps he had sensed the tension building in the air at Evermont and wished to keep the other servants from having a fight to gossip about. Her brother was alone in his study. The only sign of The Duke’s presence was the empty glass and Frederic’s apparent state of inebriation. It was probably best to wait to talk to him for he was belligerent when in his cups, but Evelyn could not put it off. Mr. Pratt left her at the doorway after she refused his offer for a tray of tea. She did not wish to give the appearance of this being a polite visit between siblings.
“Frederic.”
He looked up from his book with red, unfocused eyes.
“Evelyn, my darling sister. Have you come to scold me again?”
She put her hands on her hips, just beneath the stiff boning of her stays. He was the older of them, but he had never acted it. In their youth, they had been close and had played together, but he had put Evelyn aside the moment he had turned old enough to shave. Though she had felt the loss keenly, she had found friends of her own and the distance between them had only grown into a comfortable sort of detachment. She had not thought of it before, but with her father dead, she was entirely dependent upon his whim. It was a frightening thought. Well, nonetheless, she was the stronger of the Evering siblings. She knew this, although she was younger by almost two years. She would manage this mess.
~.~
Continue reading about Lady Evelyn and The Duke of Pemberton in
The Duke’s Wicker Wager ~ Lady Evelyn Evering
~.~
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