Highway Revenge

by Millard, Nadine

  He had hoped to accompany Evelyn here this evening, even if she was still being just-about civil to him.

  He hadn’t had a chance to tell her of his findings because she refused to spend any time alone with him. He had the papers on him now, burning a hole in the pocket of his superfine evening jacket.

  And when he’d resolved to find a way to travel alone with her to this damned dance, he’d been accosted by the vicar’s gimlet-eyed wife to hang decorations for tonight’s festivities. He’d done so with good grace, of course, but it had disappointed him not to come with Eve tonight.

  And, rather annoyingly, from the second he and Jon had walked in, there’d been the inevitable feeling of the vultures circling.

  Jonathan lifted a glass of too-warm, too-weak champagne and took a gulp, grimacing as he swallowed.

  “Come man, it’s not so bad,” he said unconvincingly.

  In answer, Andrew merely arched a brow.

  After a moment or two of a sort of stand-off, Jonathan relented with a sigh.

  “Fine. It’s excruciating. But look on the bright side. You may find the woman of your dreams.”

  Andrew tensed.

  This was the perfect opportunity to inform Jonathan that he already had.

  “Well, now that you men—“

  The word’s died in his mouth as he looked across the ballroom and saw Eve step inside.

  She was so beautiful it damn near made his heart stop beating.

  And she had no idea; that was the kicker.

  Andrew was used to debutantes, widows, demi-mondes — all of whom were extremely beautiful, and all of whom were fully aware of the fact and used it advantageously at every opportunity.

  But Evelyn was entirely without conceit, without confidence in herself, and it boggled his mind. How could she not know that she was the most beautiful woman in the whole world? How could she not know that a man would die a thousand times over just to be close to her?

  “Close your mouth, Ash, you’re embarrassing yourself.”

  Jonathan’s voice crashed through the haze of desire Andrew was drowning in, and a good thing too. Things had been about to get extremely uncomfortable.

  “Who are you staring at anyway?”

  Andrew’s eyes snapped to Jonathan’s but not for long. He couldn’t help it. He was drawn to her as a moth to a flame.

  “I’m not staring,” he said whilst staring.

  She was making the rounds with Anna, curtsying and, to his disgust, having her card filled at a rapid pace.

  He’d bloody well kill any man to put his hands on her, even if it was for a dance.

  “Just go over and ask for a dance before you have an apoplexy.”

  Once again, Jonathan’s words brought Andrew’s attention back to him.

  “What do you mean?”

  In answer, Jonathan lifted two more glasses of champagne and handed them over.

  “You think I haven’t noticed you salivating over my cousin, despite what you said the other night?”

  Andrew couldn’t very well deny it, but he wasn’t thrilled about the picture Jonathan had painted either, that of some sort of rabid dog, so he said nothing.

  Jonathan, who had been facing the dancers, turned fully now to face Andrew, his expression serious.

  “I just need to know what your intentions are, Ash. I’d hate to have to kill you.”

  Andrew automatically scoffed at the idea that Jonathan could.

  “My intentions…” he said gruffly, looking across the room at her once more. “Where do I start?”

  “Well, you needn’t discuss your fantasies, or I will actually kill you. I am the better shot,” Jonathan quipped.

  “That sounds more like a fantasy of yours, Jon,” Andrew automatically retorted.

  It was a moment like millions of others, and yet, with this conversation, they both knew a change was coming.

  Andrew would no longer be Jonathan’s best friend and partner; he would be Evelyn’s husband, if she would have him. She would be his priority from here on in, and their hare-brained and sometimes debauched escapades throughout Europe would be over for good.

  “So, it’s real then?” Jonathan asked quietly.

  Andrew put the depth of his sincerity into his tone.

  “The most real thing I’ve ever experienced,” he answered frankly.

  Jonathan nodded, and the gentlemen shared a moment of understanding before he spoke again.

  “So, does this mean I shall have to find another partner then?” he quipped.

  “I’m afraid so. Of course, she hasn’t actually agreed to marry me and is, in fact, ignoring me.”

  “Oh?”

  “She heard me the other night, denying my feelings for her.”

  “Ah.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Well, you’ve been in worse scrapes with the fairer sex.”

  “I’ve also never really given a damn before, Jon.”

  Jonathan smiled with his usual mischief. “Perhaps it’s just as well. You don’t do well rusticating in the country, remember? What would you do if you did manage to convince her? Becoming a countrified man of leisure? You’d be bored to death within a week.”

  It was Andrew’s turn to grin. “I can assure you that I would be anything but bored locked away in the country with your cousin. In fact—“

  “All right,” Jonathan laughingly cut in, “you do not need to go into detail. Trust me, I would infinitely prefer if you didn’t.”

  “You approve then?” Andrew asked after sharing a laugh with his oldest friend.

  “I do,” answered Jon simply.

  Andrew looked back toward Eve, and his gut clenched when he noticed that she was dancing a quadrille with some dandy who was watching her a little too salaciously for Andrew’s liking.

  He watched as she smiled up at her partner, looking relaxed and happy and not tied up in knots the way she had with him for the last few days.

  He felt suddenly morose. She looked decidedly happier out of his company. He made her miserable. And she deserved better than that.

  “She can do better than me,” he said quietly, more to himself than to Jonathan.

  But the other man responded anyway. “Undoubtedly,” he said with insulting swiftness. “But she doesn’t want to do so.”

  Andrew’s heart leapt with hope. “You think so?” he asked, hating how desperate he sounded but unable to do anything about it.

  “I know so. She has that same sickening look in her eyes when she sees you as you have when you see her. The whole thing is revolting,” he said with a shudder.

  Andrew grinned. “Perhaps I should go to her then,” he said.

  Jonathan threw his eyes to heaven. “Of course you bloody should,” he said, but his grin was as wide as Andrew’s own.

  Evelyn’s jaw hurt from the effort of keeping her insincere smile pasted on her face.

  Mr. Phillips, with whom she was dancing, was a kind, jovial sort, even if his hands had a tendency to roam where they shouldn’t.

  Ordinarily, she probably would have quite enjoyed the attention she was receiving from the man. But then, ordinarily she wouldn’t be receiving any.

  She couldn’t quite countenance the overall amount of male attention she was receiving tonight. It was unusual for her.

  Rather than the experience being enjoyable, however, it just highlighted to her that there was one man who didn’t seem inclined at all to pay her attention. The man who had been brooding in the corner since she’d arrived, chatting to her cousin, and frankly, ignoring her.

  How had it come to this?

  Foolish though it was, Evelyn had spent a great many hours over the last couple of weeks imagining herself married to Lord Ashdon, raising a family with him, and generally living in loving, bucolic bliss on his estate.

  Now, he stood across a room from her and didn’t even acknowledge her existence.

  Her righteous indignation was fading more and more. She was fast on the way to regretting h
er fury at his behaviour.

  What if he were being truthful? What if he loved her and truly regretted his words?

  She felt that the whole thing was hopeless. He hadn’t come near her at all. It would seem that he’d decided to give up on her.

  The pain was acute.

  Evelyn listened with half an ear as the orchestra ended the quadrille and indicated, with a few bars, the beginning of a waltz.

  It was an unusual quirk of their little village that the waltz, still extremely scandalous in most places outside Town, should be played at all.

  But it was, at every event. Evelyn had never danced it because she’d never been asked.

  And now, with Mr. Halsop her next partner bearing down on her, she found that she didn’t want to dance it. It seemed too intimate, somehow, to be swept into the arms of a man for whom she felt nothing.

  And even if she wasn’t head over heels in love with Andrew Carlyle, Mr. Eugene Halsop wasn’t the type of man to inspire feelings of any sort in her.

  Evelyn’s eyes darted to the door then back to the fast-approaching baron’s son. She’d never make it on time, not without it looking entirely too obvious, and her aunt would have her head.

  Perhaps she could claim fatigue or a sudden megrim.

  As Evelyn was concocting a story in her head, Mr. Halsop’s way was suddenly blocked by the giant figure of a man that could only be Andrew.

  His back was to her, and he fully blocked her view of Mr. Halsop, so she couldn’t even gauge what sort of conversation they were having as Andrew bent slightly to speak to the smaller man.

  After a moment or two, Andrew turned to her with a triumphant and altogether arrogant smile, while Mr. Halsop scurried off like a frightened mouse.

  Without a word, as the strains of the waltz began, Andrew bowed then swept Evelyn into his arms and took off across the dance floor.

  The feeling of being in his arms was so wonderful that, for a moment, she was rendered entirely speechless and allowed herself to enjoy the dance.

  But after a while, when the temptation to lean against his solid chest became very nearly overwhelming, Evelyn forced herself to lean back and look into his glinting, mossy eyes.

  The look in his gaze as she made contact took her breath away. He was regarding her so tenderly, so intently. He looked — well… he looked like a man in love.

  Her heart was hammering so loudly in her chest she was surprised the whole ballroom didn’t hear it.

  “Andrew,” she whispered, not even sure what she wanted to say.

  “Eve—“ He spoke at the same time.

  She laughed softly and nodded her head slightly, indicating that he should speak first.

  “Eve,” he repeated, and she watched as he swallowed hard, trying not to get distracted by the corded muscles in his throat.

  It would be terribly inappropriate to reach up and run her tongue along it, wouldn’t it?

  “Eve,” he spoke again, and she whipped her eyes back up to his own.

  “Y-yes?” she said a little breathlessly, and his wolfish grin told her he knew where her thoughts had been.

  “You look exquisite,” he said simply, and she felt her cheeks flame with pleasure.

  “Finally noticed, did you?” she quipped, still a little stung at his ignoring her.

  But the way he was looking at her now, did, she had to admit, go some way toward mollifying her.

  “Finally?” he asked, pulling her slightly closer. “I haven’t been able to form a coherent thought since you walked through the doors.”

  Well, he certainly had a way with words.

  Could she believe him? Could she throw caution to the wind and accept his proclamations of love? It was oh so tempting.

  The doubt and fear that had held her heart in their vice-like grips thus far began to dissipate slightly. She felt the return of the giddy happiness she had felt with him in days past, and it made her want to throw caution to the wind and have some fun again.

  “And yet you could form sufficient thoughts to have a conversation with my intended dance partner and scare him away,” she quipped with a small smile.

  His answering grin was one of pure devilment, and it made her heart race.

  “A man who is so easily scared away isn’t worthy of a dance with you, my love. Especially not a waltz.”

  Oh Lord, there he went calling her his love. She was fast falling under his spell yet again.

  “So you admit that you scared him?”

  “I admit nothing,” he declared dramatically as he spun her round the outskirts of the dance floor.

  “Come now, my lord. Let us have only honesty between us.”

  He narrowed his eyes at her as if assessing her character, and she couldn’t help the laugh that drew the eyes of several surrounding people to them. But she didn’t notice, and he didn’t care.

  “All right. I might have… suggested that he would prefer to sit this dance out.”

  He widened his eyes in a comical impression of innocence, and she laughed again, feeling lighter and freer than she had in a long, long time.

  The waltz came to an end, but Evelyn was loath to remove herself from his arms.

  Before she felt that she had to, however, he leaned down and whispered in her ear, making her shiver in wicked delight.

  “Walk with me on the veranda?”

  She didn’t trust herself to speak, so she nodded her consent.

  Without another word between them, Andrew held out his arm, and Evelyn grasped it tightly, not entirely trusting her legs. He made her feel such overwhelming emotions; she wouldn’t be surprised if she collapsed into a heap at his feet.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Offering only the barest of smiles to people who tried to get their attention as they walked by, Andrew swept Evelyn out into the cool night air.

  Their dance had been both torturous and rapturous, and even more so because he dared to hope that she might be thawing toward him.

  If he could end this thing with her uncle and win back her trust at the same time, he’d be the happiest man in Christendom.

  They moved toward the balustrade that bordered the small veranda outside the Assembly Rooms, and Andrew stood and drank her in as she looked out at the night sky.

  It was a crisp, clear night, and the moonlight lent an air of magic to the evening.

  Her hair looked lighter illuminated as it was. She looked ethereal and so beautiful he could have wept.

  He was so in love with her it felt very close to being driven mad.

  No wonder great poets before him had written epics about love and all it entailed. She would inspire such greatness in him had he the talent for writing as the Shakespeares of the world.

  As it was, his skills lay more in physical acts, and he was more than willing to show her, by those means how he felt, though perhaps a balcony in the middle of winter in full view of almost the entire population of her village was a slightly inappropriate venue for such things.

  The wind took up, and he was suddenly surrounded by the floral scent of her, and it was too much to bear.

  He reached out and smoothed his thumb along her cheek, drawing her attention to him.

  She gazed at him wide-eyed, and Andrew allowed himself to hope that he saw love shining in the dark, simmering depths of her eyes.

  As though they were two puppets being controlled by forces outside themselves, they moved toward each other, and their lips fused, making Andrew feel as though his heart had come home.

  But, once again, logic would rear its unwelcome head.

  Much as he could spend the rest of his days standing here with her soft lips pressed against his own, there were important matters that needed to be dealt with before they could move on with their lives.

  Reluctantly breaking their kiss, Andrew kept hold of Evelyn’s shoulders and spoke in a low, urgent voice.

  “Eve, listen carefully to me. I found the evidence you were looking for in a hidden safe in your uncle’s study.”<
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  He watched as the blood drained from her face, and he wished, not for the first time, that he could just pick her up and run away from all of this. Take her to his home and keep her safe.

  But that wouldn’t do. She needed to see justice for her father, for her own sake. Besides, she was entitled to her money, and he would see that she got it.

  He would never want her left helpless, devoid of any choice in how her life was to turn out.

  If she consented to be his wife, he wanted it to be because she wanted it as much as he, not because she was backed into a corner.

  “They are exactly as you said. Everything pertaining to your uncle’s hiring a mystery brute to murder your father, right down to his solicitor’s bribery.”

  She looked completely shocked, and he gave her shoulders a gentle squeeze of support.

  “You did it, my love. You will finally be able to bring Spencer to justice.”

  She was so silent and so still that Andrew began to worry she was having some sort of episode.

  But in the next moment, her eyes filled with tears, and a huge smile lit up her face.

  “Oh, Andrew,” she said, launching herself into his arms, “We did it. You and I.”

  Andrew wrapped his arms around her and lifted her off her feet, burying his face in her rose-scented curls.

  He set her on her feet and captured her mouth in a brief, hard kiss.

  “Soon it will all be over,” he said. “Soon, you’ll have what you’ve always wanted; revenge for your father’s murder and enough money to move away from here and go wherever you want.”

  He watched her face closely and was heartened by the shock then disappointment that flickered across her features. Could it be that she had really forgiven him? Could it be that she wanted him to keep her with him?

  “Y-yes, it will be wonderful, I’m sure,” she said a little stiffly, her smile starting to look strained.

  Andrew had wanted to wait until this whole sordid matter was sorted out once and for all, but he couldn’t bare the idea of hurting her, if indeed the thought of not being with him did hurt her.

  “Eve — I know you have a lot on your mind right now, and I certainly know that this is neither the time nor the place but… well… I wanted to ask you—“