A Duke For Lady Eve (Belles 0f Christmas Book 5)

by Kasey Stockton

  Evelyn watched her aunt retreat. The woman sounded as though she sat on death’s doorstep, but the reality was quite the opposite. She was not a weak woman, though she affected such a persona. And the evidence was in her constant vigilance in chaperoning Evelyn about London. Even when Evelyn dozed after one of their countless late nights during the Season, Aunt Edith was forever on her guard.

  Evelyn faced the butler standing post beside the front door. “Where are the boys?” she inquired.

  “In the grove, Miss Trainor.”

  She should have known. Turning to her father, she said, “I will go fetch them.”

  “But the cold,” he argued, his mustache quivering in concern. He wobbled on his cane and Evelyn stepped forward at once. The boys could wait.

  “Come, father. Let’s get you settled in the library.”

  Evelyn strung an arm around her father’s back and helped him as his cane supported him down the corridor. They stepped into the library, a long room lined with bookcases, and toward the soft leather chairs set over a blue rug before the fireplace.

  After helping him into the chair, Evelyn moved to the fire and used the poker to bring it back to life.

  “You should not do that,” Father said. “Fetch a servant.”

  Evelyn couldn’t help but smile. “How silly to fetch a servant when it will take me just a moment to do it myself.” She straightened, wiping her hands against the skirt of her chocolate brown gown. This was why she wore serviceable, purposeful dresses. The dirt seemed to blend in better.

  “Did you enjoy the masquerade? I’ve yet to ask you about it,” her father said as Evelyn took a chair on the other side of the carpet, tucking her feet under her. The large chair dwarfed her, but she found it comfortable. It was home, after all.

  “It was amusing,” she said at last.

  Father’s knowing gaze watched her. “In what sense?”

  She could not tell him about meeting the duke in the garden. But surely Aunt Edith had already informed him of the dance.

  “I danced with a duke,” she said with little flair. “He was very tall.”

  Father brought his hand up and scratched his chin. “I cannot deduce if that is a point in his favor or against it.”

  “Neither,” Evelyn answered, doing her utmost to sound unaffected. “He mistook me for a proper lady, Father. We shall never speak again, so it is of little consequence.”

  The explanation was both honest and a simple way to explain Alverton’s odd behavior in requesting her dance. Evelyn had searched her brain to find a way to explain to her family why Alverton had crossed the floor with direct purpose to dance with her, and she had determined that the truth was the only way to go. He had mistaken her for a lady. Of course, it was due to her own initial misleading, but that was neither here nor there.

  The point remained that the Duke of Alverton would never request Evelyn’s hand for a dance. He only had eyes for Lady Eve.

  And regardless, she was going to do her best to convince her father not to return to London after Twelfth Night.

  She regarded him carefully as his eyelids drifted closed. His skin was pale and wrinkled, and she believed more lines had developed on his face during the short drive from London. Why could he not accept that it was better for his health if he stepped down from his political seat? His sons would benefit from his presence at home and his daughter would be satisfied if she never left Wiltshire again. Could she persuade him? It was certainly worth a shot.

  Standing, she crossed to the chest on the far side of the room and lifted the throw lying on top of it. Her mother had knitted the blanket and Evelyn often found comfort in its warm embrace. She brought it to her nose, inhaling. It no longer smelled of her mother, but it did smell of the house.

  Evelyn laid it over her slumbering father and stole one last look at his peaceful face before taking her leave of the room. She must find a way to convince him to remain in Wiltshire. And she had just a fortnight to do so.

  * * *

  Finding her brothers had been easy.

  After obtaining her cape and tying the ribbons about her neck, Evelyn took off toward the forest and the large, thick oak tree nestled snugly within the grove of trees. Sanders Grove had been vainly named for the peerage who owned the land, but the earl’s family wasn’t in residence very often. Evelyn and her brothers had grown up playing within the trees and never came to any trouble from it. Her father’s property stopped just before the tree line, but the Earl of Sanders had never before complained of small footprints in the mud or the odd game of militia between her brothers and neighboring tenant children when he was in residence.

  The grove had grown thinner with its loss of leaves. Cold seeped up from the frozen ground and into Evelyn’s boots. She found the familiar deer path and followed its winding, unclear way through the trees toward the place she would likely find her brothers.

  She was not ten paces away when she finally heard low voices discussing something of great importance just above her own height.

  She had been correct. They were in the tree.

  Evelyn approached the old, massive tree quietly, calling on her own experience playing with neighboring children and the lightness of foot required in an important snowball match. She made it to the base of the thick, squat tree without being detected, and circled it slowly until she found a good root to climb upon.

  The tree was hundreds, if not thousands of years old, and the thick trunk showed it. It was as wide as Evelyn was tall, which created a large, flat area from which its branches stretched out. The tree was perfect for childhood games. Large, long limbs branched out in multiple directions as though the tree itself was doing its best to reach the four corners of the grove.

  Finding purchase on a taller root, Evelyn counted silently to five before jumping into view of the main, flat center of the tree and shouting, “Found you!”

  Two young faces covered in freckles and topped with fiery red hair turned to her in sudden surprise, their features a mixture of shock and fright.

  “Evelyn!” Jack yelled. She could not tell if he was excited or angry until he ran across the tree and jumped down, coming around to hug her about the ankles.

  “Evelyn!” Harry echoed, doing very much the same thing while remaining in the tree, his grimy arms slithering around her neck.

  “Boys,” Evelyn said, her voice muffled by Harry’s arms. “Allow me to climb down and then I can hug you properly.”

  They reluctantly let go and she hopped down from the root just before her younger brothers nearly bowled her over again.

  “Harry! Jack! You must allow me to breathe,” Evelyn said through peals of laughter. “I have missed you, too.”

  Jack stepped back first, eyeing her. “Are you married now?”

  “What? Why ever would you say such a thing?” she asked, laughing.

  Jack did not laugh, however. His young, serious eyes watched her closely. “Because I heard Father telling Aunt Edith that you would not return home until you found a husband.”

  She grew still. Well, that certainly explained why Aunt Edith had forced her to attend the masquerade the evening before they left London. And the other balls, dinners, and card parties Aunt Edith had feigned interest in. They had been working together to find Evelyn a husband.

  And yet, they hadn’t met with success. Was that why Father had appeared so downtrodden and sullen during the carriage ride home from London? Evelyn had chalked it up to his feeling poorly, but Jack’s new information caused her to reevaluate.

  “We are glad you aren’t getting married,” Henry said. “Now you can be our damsel.”

  “I’m not sure I’m feeling up to being a damsel today,” Evelyn said, her shoulders deflating. It was difficult not to feel like a failure now that she knew of Father’s plans. Sure, she had realized Aunt Edith was hoping she would marry—the woman had very obviously pushed her to attend social functions. But she hadn’t been aware of how deeply Father was hoping to be rid of her.


  “Tomorrow?” the boys asked in unison, their large, green eyes imploring her in a way they knew would get them precisely what they asked for.

  Evelyn could not help but smile. “Yes, tomorrow. But for now, let us return to the house. The sun will be going down soon, and I very much wish for you to tell me what you’ve been up to while we’ve been away.”

  * * *

  The following morning Evelyn made it outside before the sun. She’d awoken early, unable to shake the knowledge that she was a burden on her father. She had thought she was helpful; that she was lightening his load and giving him more time to heal from whatever it was that ailed him. He’d seen doctors, or so he claimed, but he refused to inform her what they’d told him.

  Evelyn huffed, her breath clouding before her on the winding path through the woods. She was going to call on Julia far too early, but she had a feeling it would be forgiven.

  The sun rose during her walk through the trees and by the time Evelyn left the other side of the grove, the sun had peaked above Lord Sanders’ enormous manor house in the distance and warmed her skin. She followed the road until it forked and took the left lane toward Derham, away from the earl’s property. It was farther away than she had recalled, and by the time she reached Julia’s house it was no longer an inappropriate hour to pay a call.

  Nestled among a row of tightly-huddled, tall houses, the Cooper house was set apart from the rest by its freshly painted door and polished brass knocker.

  Bringing her fist up to tap on the solid, wooden door, Evelyn stepped back and surveyed the front of the house. Made of stone and covered in a thick blanket of ivy vines, Julia lived in a house sandwiched among a row of buildings. A female servant came to the door and admitted Evelyn at once, ushering her into the warm parlor before bustling back out.

  “Evelyn, you are home!” Julia’s familiar voice was a balm on Evelyn’s frosted exterior and she deemed the cold walk worth it once her vision fell upon her friend. In a light gray muslin dress, her blonde hair pulled back in a simple knot, Julia looked lovely and familiar. “You must tell me all about London.”

  “Indeed,” Evelyn said, “I shall. But it is good to be home.”

  The old friends settled onto the sofa after Julia called for tea and chatted much like they had their entire lives—quickly and with purpose. Julia filled Evelyn in on the happenings around Derham during her absence, and Evelyn described the balls and masquerades she had attended in Town.

  “But you mean to tell me you found no man worth pursuing?” Julia asked, doubtful. The delicate planes of her face screwed up, causing small lines to form between her eyebrows and on her nose. “I have a hard time believing all London men to be toads and pigs.”

  Evelyn shook her head. Her traitorous mind recalled Alverton stepping into the ballroom, tall and handsome, during the masquerade and how thoroughly Evelyn’s heart had flipped over, but that was ridiculous. He was out of reach, and not worth mentioning.

  Julia, however, knew her friend quite well. “What are you thinking of? A stallion among the swine?”

  A moment’s hesitation was enough to give Evelyn away and Julia continued, primly folding her hands in her lap. “You must tell me now for I know you have a secret and I shall not rest until I am apprised of it.”

  Evelyn glanced to the open door.

  Julia followed her gaze but shook her head, bringing a lock of pale hair loose. “My brother was gone all evening on a call and will not be awake yet. The Taylor’s youngest child was given to fever a few days ago and then the mother took ill. It swept through all six children after that and last night, I believe, was the worst of it.”

  “How horrible,” Evelyn said, bringing her hand up to cover her heart. “They are fortunate to have your brother so near. Are they in need of anything?”

  “I am sure they would appreciate a hot meal, but Jared told the maids this morning that Mrs. Taylor’s fever had broken before he left their house and he expects the children to recover.”

  “We can only pray,” Evelyn said.

  Julia nodded. “Now, you cannot expect me to have forgotten so easily. Do tell.”

  Evelyn leaned forward on the sofa, lowering her voice. “Do you recall Lady Eve?”

  “The game we played as children?”

  “Yes, of sorts.” Julia had always been simply Lady Julia—she lacked Evelyn’s imagination—when, as children, they had pretended to be ladies of quality. But they had not participated in the game in many years. That is, they had not played it together. Evelyn still did her fair share of daydreaming in secret.

  Evelyn continued, telling Julia of the shocking discovery of the duke in the garden. “I would not have sung had I known that a duke stood on the other side of the hedge. And though he could see me, the shadows and the dark made it impossible for me to see him until I stood on the bench and looked over the hedge.”

  Julia chuckled, pulling a loose lock of blonde hair and tucking it back into her knot. “I hope you delivered a curtsy worthy of such a performance.”

  “I did not even consider it.”

  “A missed opportunity,” Julia said. Her eyes widened, her pale brows rising. “You must go on. What did the duke say?”

  “He asked to call on me and I refused.”

  Julia scoffed.

  “I did agree to a dance, however,” Evelyn said, unable to restrain her smile. “And it was glorious. He was dashing, dressed as a wolf. And I felt like I was dancing on clouds in his arms.”

  “When shall you see him again?” Julia asked, her head tilted in compassion.

  Evelyn swallowed, lowering her gaze. “I cannot. I stood on that bench in the back garden and found a chance to pretend I was truly Lady Eve, and I introduced myself as such. He believes me to be a lady, Julia. He would never have pursued me otherwise, so I must put him from my mind and take care to remain unaffected by his memory.” Evelyn leaned back and searched her friend’s face.

  Julia’s voice was hesitant, her eyebrows drawn down. “But what shall you do if you see him again?”

  “I won’t,” Evelyn said easily. “I never have before. And I am planning to remain here. I won’t be returning to London.”

  Julia’s pale eyebrows rose. “Your father has given his blessing? Or has he chosen to retire?”

  “Not yet, but I have made it my objective to convince him. I am not sure he will last another parliamentary session, Julia.”

  Her friend reached forward and lifted Evelyn’s hand, squeezing it. “Let me know how I may help.”

  “Of course.” Evelyn rose. “I must be off. Oh, how I’ve missed you.”

  She made her way to the front door, glancing over her shoulder when she thought she heard a creak on the stairs behind her, but no one was there. Bidding Julia a final goodbye, Evelyn stepped onto the cobblestone street toward home.

  A carriage rumbled down the street behind her and she flattened herself against the brick building to give the horses room to pass. The crest emblazoned on the side of the carriage in green and yellow indicated that the Earl of Sanders—or one of his sisters, perhaps—rode inside. Evelyn watched them ramble past her and stepped into the road after they had cleared.

  She would need to inform her brothers so they might be mindful of their games within the grove. But if history was any indication, whoever came to Chesford Place wouldn’t likely remain long.

  The drape covering the back window of the carriage moved aside and a face appeared in the small square, catching her eye. She paused on the road, tilting her head in confusion at the familiarity of the eyes behind the glass.

  It was not until the carriage turned down the road and disappeared from sight that she realized at once whom those striking eyes belonged to. They were the eyes of her duke.

  Chapter 4

  Alverton looked through the back window of the carriage as they rolled down the cobblestone street and then around a bend. The woman who stood against the brick wall had looked so familiar to him that he watched her as l
ong as he could. But alas, he could not place where he recognized her from.

  “We shall be forced to dine with the Hollingsfords, I’m afraid, once they hear that we’re in residence,” Sanders said without missing a beat. Evidently, he hadn’t been arrested by the sight of a woman standing on the side of the road as Alverton had. “They are an unavoidable acquaintance. But Hollingsford is a tolerable gentleman and puts up a decent game and sufficient drink to make the dinner party worth attending.”

  “You make Derham Society sound like quite a treat,” Alverton grumbled.

  Sanders’ smile was wide and unforgiving, his blue eyes sparkling. “We don’t come here often. And there isn’t much here in the way of gentry, but there’s enough to keep us company when we tire of ourselves.”

  Alverton’s mind wandered to the woman in the road. What was it about her eyes that entreated him so?

  “You seem distracted,” Sanders said, jostling along with the carriage on the bumpy lane.

  Alverton shook his head as though the action itself would lift his confusion. “The woman we passed in the street earlier looked familiar, but I cannot place where I’ve seen her before.”

  “Can’t say that I saw her,” Sanders replied, lifting a shoulder. He was of no help at all. “You’ll recall the woods I told you of? We’ll find some fine sport there.”

  “I recall the hedge you could not jump,” Alverton responded, amusement coloring his tone. “I should like to see it with my own eyes.”

  Sanders shot his friend a rueful smile before turning to watch out the window. “I told you of that when I was soundly foxed. I hadn’t intended for it to be remembered.”

  The carriage pulled from the main road and down a rocky lane lined with trees. They bounced along, jostling softly as the wheels rolled on packed, hard ground. A large building of dark stone rose into sight and Alverton grinned at the gothic house.

  “This is the perfect setting for my escape from the ton.”