“And I told you,” he answered, his smooth, even tone a stark contrast to her own biting one, “I do not think it will be pointless. I saw your uncle leave his room and come downstairs. Considering he keeps everything of value in this study, there’s a very real chance he will come in here, and we will see where he keeps such things.”
It all sounded very reasonable and well-considered, but Evelyn didn’t feel like being reasonable.
With difficulty, since they were both squeezed into the corner of the window frame, behind the thick velvet curtains that dressed the windows, Evelyn turned to glare up at him.
“What if he only came down to harass the maids again?” she demanded.
“Then we wait until we’re sure he’s not coming, and we search the room.”
There he went being reasonable again.
“Well, I’m tired and cold,” she grumbled. “And really, it seems a terrible waste of time to be standing here doing nothing.”
It didn’t seem appropriate to tell him that she was more than a little disappointed that he’d acted like a commanding officer since she’d snuck out of her room and had been accosted by him in the hallway.
The accosting itself she didn’t mind. But the barking orders and marching her down the stairs she minded very much.
“It does seem as though our time could be better spent,” he said.
Evelyn frowned. She hadn’t expected him to agree so readily.
“Well, yes.”
“In fact,” he continued, “I believe our time would be much better spent doing something else.”
“Quite.”
“So, we are in agreement then?” he asked.
“We are,” she responded.
Quick as a flash, his arms went round her waist and pulled her flush against his body.
Evelyn’s heartbeat sped in seconds.
He flashed her a devilish grin.
“Good,” he said before bending and capturing her lips in a searing kiss.
Any and all thoughts in her brain flew out the window, and Evelyn was lost in him completely.
Andrew knew from the second his lips touched hers that he was in more trouble than he’d ever been in his life.
He knew when it felt as though his heart suddenly became whole. He knew when it felt like he’d been missing something that had now returned, with her in his arms. He knew when words like love and forever and mine marched across his soul with every beat of his heart.
He broke the kiss as his feelings threatened to overwhelm him. He felt like he needed to escape.
She was gazing up at him, her eyes filled with wonder and tenderness, and it was almost his undoing.
Andrew had stared down the barrel of a gun, had felt the cool steel of a blade pressed against his throat more times than he could count, had faced armies of enemies intent on his destruction…
Yet nothing had ever frightened him as much as his reaction to the woman standing before him now.
It felt as though something was shifting between them, becoming more than what it had been before.
“Eve—“
Before he could utter another word, the distinctive sound of the door opening disturbed the quiet air, and Andrew moved on instinct.
Quick as a flash, he pushed Evelyn behind him and turned to look through the tiny gap he’d made in the folds of the curtain.
“What is it?” she whispered quietly.
He reached back and squeezed her hand to signal that she should be quiet. Then he left his hand there because, truth be told, it felt rather nice.
Geoffrey Spencer trundled into the room, and Andrew forced himself to be completely still. This wasn’t a surprise. He had been sure that Spencer would keep Eve’s proof in his study and equally sure that the man would be nervous about it after their near robbery the other night.
Once again, as had been happening since she’d told him all, Andrew felt a pang of remorse that he’d stopped her. She would have had her papers and, more importantly, she would be out of danger.
“I’m telling you, they need to be gotten rid of.” Spencer was speaking to someone, his voice urgent and his cheeks bright red.
“And if we can’t get them to London without being bloody well accosted by highwaymen, then I shall burn them and be done with the whole thing,” he blustered.
From this angle, Andrew couldn’t see the person to whom Spencer was speaking. And although he daren’t risk turning to look at Eve, he knew that she realised the significance of the exchange by her sudden death grip on his hand.
Someone else knew about what Spencer had done. Someone in this house.
“Calm down, Spencer. I am growing tired of your dramatics.”
Eve gasped behind him, and he heard her clamp a hand over her mouth.
He shouldn’t be surprised. Peter Grant had never been what you would call an upstanding citizen. Yet, how he’d come to be involved in this, Andrew had no idea. It did seem rather beneath him, especially given that Andrew himself had been sent to watch Grant because the Home Office had, at one point, been convinced that the man was selling information to the French.
The matter had been dropped after months of fruitless following and delving into Grant’s history. It had seemed as though his information was nothing more than getting agents of the Crown foxed then reading between the lines of whatever they let slip. In other words, nothing of value. Andrew had never been entirely convinced of this, however. He had suspected that Grant was better at covering his tracks than they’d all first assumed.
The man was a self-serving bastard, no mistake about it. He cared only about getting ahead and enjoying the finer things in life, which was, no doubt, why he’d targeted Anna Spencer, the Incomparable of every Season. His money would have smoothed the way, too. Although that in itself was a mystery. Mr. Grant came from very humble beginnings and always claimed that his money came from the inheritance of a distant relative and clever investments.
Andrew had never been able to prove otherwise.
But something like this was so far removed from what he was usually involved in, Andrew was surprised.
“But I cannot have them here,” Spencer was whispering frantically. “If anyone should find them—“
“And what will you do then?” Grant interrupted coolly, sounding bored “We’ve been through this. As long as you have those letters, you have proof that Philips was in on this. Get rid of those, and he can accuse you of whatever he likes.”
Andrew frowned, his hand still wrapped reassuringly around Eve’s smaller one, his mind working quick as lightning.
Peter Grant was not the type of man to help out of any sense of familial loyalty, and certainly not out of the goodness of his heart.
Spencer wasn’t paying him any blunt either; Grant was richer than Midas, and Spencer, though his old family name was one of excellent standing amongst the ton, had mismanaged his estate for years. He was by no means impoverished. Anna’s marriage to Grant had seen to that. But he didn’t have the money to bribe Grant into helping him.
Which meant Grant had another reason for helping.
And the tale took another curious turn.
After a few moments’ insignificant conversation longer, Grant and Spencer left the room, and Andrew drew back the curtain, allowing Evelyn to step out ahead of him.
When she turned to face him, Andrew noted her pale skin, her eyes rounded in shock and confusion. Now would not be the right time to discuss any of this. She needed to rest, especially in light of her arm being wounded.
“We can’t do anything about this tonight, Eve,” he started gently, expecting an argument.
And he got one.
“What? Don’t be ridiculous. Of course we can. He’s as good as said those letters are in here, hasn’t he? And… and Mr. Grant, well… he must be involved somehow.”
She lifted a shaking hand to press against her temple.
“Eve—“
“No, Andrew. Do not tell me to leave it, or that it
will all work out, or not to worry about it. Those letters are in this room, and now there are two of them who know what is going on and I-I—”
Her eyes filled with sudden tears, and Andrew felt his gut tighten. He hated to see a woman cry at the best of times, but he couldn’t watch her cry. Not her. It would tear his heart to shreds to see her so upset, so broken.
“Eve, I will search for them. I will. I will pull this room apart if I must, but please don’t cry,” he implored, moving to grasp her shoulders.
“I’m not crying.” She sniffed as a tear ran down her cheek.
Andrew couldn’t help but smile at her stubbornness, at her refusal to admit to any weakness.
“It’s late. You’re exhausted. And hurt,” he said as she opened her mouth to interrupt him. “Why not get some rest and leave it to me to search the study.”
She was already shaking her head in refusal. “I want to do it,” she said mutinously, her eyes still shining with unshed tears. “You can’t just waltz in and take over. This is about my father and my life, and I n-need to do something about it all.”
She was overset again, and Andrew felt her distress like a physical blow.
Wrapping his arms around her, he fought the swell of desire and offered her comfort. Just comfort.
It was funny; he felt happier just holding her than he had ever felt with anyone before. And as the realisation of what that meant sank in, he thought that actually it wasn’t funny at all.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Evelyn awoke with the sun already high in the sky.
Unbelievably, it appeared that she’d slept. And for some hours, too.
Glancing to the side, she saw a cup of chocolate, now cold, sitting on the table.
Frowning, she sat up and brushed her hair back.
Her arm, she realised, was a lot better today. Andrew had insisted on checking it last night and declared himself happy with its progress.
As her thoughts turned to the dashing viscount, Evelyn couldn’t help the smile that tugged at her lips. He was overbearing, controlling and demanding, but he was also kind and charming and so very concerned with her. She couldn’t help that her heart melted for him.
He’d taken such good care of her last night when she’d become upset. And it had been wonderful having someone who cared. Ever since Evelyn’s father had died, she’d felt so alone. Jonathan and Anna had tried to include her, but they’d been mere children themselves, and though they’d loved her as a sister, Millicent and Geoffrey had always been careful to make sure Evelyn knew she wasn’t really a part of their family.
So when Andrew had held her last night as she cried, had dried her tears and acted for all the world as though he wanted to comfort her, well… it had been one of the best nights of her life.
After she’d made a spectacle of herself and soaked the front of his shirt with her tears, he’d insisted on pouring a glass of brandy to settle her then turned her and led her from the room, assuring her as they made their way through the quiet house that everything would work out, and they would find the letters tomorrow.
They’d reached the door of Evelyn’s bedchamber, and Evelyn had been rather excited at the prospect of a kiss before he left.
She’d gotten a kiss all right, a chaste peck on the cheek, akin to the kind she’d gotten from Jonathan.
She hadn’t been able to stop the scowl of disappointment forming on her face, and he’d grinned down at her.
“I think we’ve both had enough excitement for tonight,” he’d said gently. “Besides which, there’s only so much self-control I can exercise in the middle of the night at the door of your bedchamber.”
Evelyn’s heart had stuttered to a halt at his words.
Good Lord, she’d never survive his company if he kept saying such things.
Something of her thoughts must have shown in her face because he’d whispered an oath before pulling her into his arms and bending his head toward hers so their foreheads touched.
“Don’t look at me like that, temptress,” he’d whispered, sounding genuinely tortured.
He’d seemed so intense, and suddenly, Evelyn had felt scared. This was all too new for her, and there was so much new information to process it was more than a little overwhelming. So, without another word, she’d swept into her room and closed the door softly behind her, leaning against it as her knees had given way.
Part of her had hoped to hear his knock, his whispered plea to enter. But after a moment’s silence, she’d heard the sound of his footsteps retreating down the hallway.
Evelyn had gone to bed, her head filled with questions about her uncle and Mr. Grant, but mostly, with thoughts of Andrew Carlyle, Viscount Ashdon, and now, without question, keeper of her heart.
The thought should have terrified her, but instead, she’d kept it close like the most delicious of secrets and had fallen asleep with a smile on her face.
A knock on her door interrupted Evelyn’s musing. It must be Molly, coming to help her dress.
She still had a bandage on her arm, however, so she would have to send the young maid away again.
She knew that Molly was growing more suspicious by the day, but the girl was either too polite or too discreet to say anything, for which Evelyn was happy.
As it turned out, it was indeed Molly, and Evelyn was able to head off any offers of assistance with her ablutions by requesting a fresh cup of chocolate.
As soon as Molly left to do her bidding, Evelyn dove from her bed to dress herself.
Unfortunately, her wardrobe was limited when it came to dresses that she could fasten at the front, and if she were to ask for one of the few she owned that Molly had taken yesterday to be cleaned, she would draw suspicion.
There was nothing for it but to wear one of her usual gowns and leave it unfastened.
Thankfully, it being a particularly cool autumn, she would be able to wear a spencer and shawl over the gown and claim that she was too cold to remove either of them.
Donning an ivory empire-style dress, she quickly paired it with a dusky pink spencer and a paler pink shawl.
By the time Molly had returned with her chocolate, Evelyn was seated, fully dressed at the vanity, awaiting the maid’s assistance with her hair.
“Miss Evelyn, surely you will be too warm wearing your spencer indoors?”
“Ah, no, I am rather cold this morning, Molly.”
The maid frowned at her as she placed Evelyn’s cup on the vanity in front of her and began to brush out the golden strands.
“I do hope you aren’t getting sick, Miss,” Molly said, watching Evelyn’s face in the mirror. “It isn’t like you to stay abed so late, and now, if you’re cold enough for all those layers…”
Evelyn didn’t want Molly saying anything to Anna and set about reassuring the girl that she was perfectly fine.
It took some convincing, but finally Molly was satisfied that Evelyn was just being a little lazy that morning, and, having curled and pinned Evelyn’s hair to her satisfaction, she bustled from the room.
Evelyn released a sigh of relief and made her way downstairs.
Missing breakfast meant missing the chance to speak to Andrew about what they would do next, which was unfortunate, but hopefully she would get a chance to speak alone with him soon.
Making her way toward the drawing room, Evelyn heard the distinctive sound of Mrs. Carter’s chattering along with the twittering of several other ladies of Aunt Millicent’s acquaintance.
Blast. She’d be caught in a morning full of gossip and inane chatter. But what else could she do? If she did not make an appearance, Aunt Millicent would start one of her sermons on how grateful Evelyn should be for her place in their home, and how she should act more like a society lady.
Squaring her shoulders, Evelyn moved to enter the lions’ den when someone grabbed her hand from behind.
She whipped around and looked straight into the glorious green of Andrew’s eyes.
Her heart sang, and her smile wid
ened in delight.
“Good morning, my Eve,” he said quietly.
“Good morning,” she answered, feeling suddenly shy.
“What are your plans for this morning?” he asked, and Evelyn was thrilled by the fact that he hadn’t released her hand yet.
It was terribly scandalous, of course, but she didn’t care a jot at that moment.
“Oh, dreadfully exciting,” she quipped, shyness disappearing in light of her happiness at just being with him. “I am going in there to be scolded and fussed at and judged by Aunt Millicent and her friends.”
Andrew smiled, but it looked strained, and Evelyn was worried she’d said too much. Did he think that she was feeling sorry for herself?
In the next moment, however, he looked like himself again, so she could relax once more.
“Well, as wonderful as that sounds, could I perhaps tempt you away?” He grinned.
She pretended to consider it, thoroughly enjoying herself.
“Hmm. That depends. It would have to be something quite spectacular to make me miss out on such a treat.”
His other hand, which she hadn’t noticed hidden behind his back, made a sudden appearance, clasping a picnic hamper.
“You missed breakfast,” he said, “and I know how grumpy you get when you’re hungry.”
“I do not,” she argued huffily.
Andrew grinned again.
“As I was saying, you need to be fed. And we need to talk.”
Evelyn nodded her agreement.
“So, will you join me on a picnic, my dear Miss Spencer?” he gave an elaborate bow as he spoke, and Evelyn laughed at his overly dramatic charm.
“I would be honoured, Lord Ashdon.”
Standing back up straight, he gave her a devilish wink before leading her quickly through the house, lest they be accosted by Aunt Millicent.
Evelyn couldn’t contain her giggle as they ran through the hallways toward the conservatory at the back of the house.
It had been over ten years since she’d giggled.
It seemed that, rather than Lord Ashdon merely helping her, he was bringing her back to life.
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