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

by Kasey Stockton

  Evelyn reached forward to squeeze her friend’s hand, attempting to portray her support. “I care for you, Julia. I shall not do or say anything which might jeopardize our friendship. You may trust me if you wish to. But if you would rather not say, I shall respect that as well.”

  Carriage wheels sounded on the cobblestones behind them and Evelyn guided Julia away from the street, stepping over a patch of mud.

  Glancing over her shoulder, Evelyn froze. The carriage was very fine with a crest emblazoned on the side in red and gold. She was not a simpleton. This could only belong to one man: Alverton.

  She searched the windows as they rumbled past, against her better judgement, but was unable to see past the woman who sat on the edge—an older woman with gray hair pulled up into a cap and a displeased expression on her mouth.

  “Do you think they are leaving Derham?” Julia asked, clearly having deduced the inhabitants of the carriage as well.

  “I wouldn’t know.”

  The horses pulled up the road and came to a slow stop before a footman hopped from the back and came around to open the door and let down the step. Evelyn and Julia watched, transfixed as three well-dressed women were let out of the carriage, followed by a single man.

  Evelyn’s breath caught in her chest when polished Hessian boots stepped from the carriage, but she was immediately disappointed to see the lighter brown hair belonging to Lord Sanders peeking from under his hat.

  Hope pulsed within her until the footman closed the door and put up the step.

  Alverton had not joined them.

  Sighing, Evelyn turned to her friend. “Shall we quit watching them as though they are tigers in a menagerie? I am still in need of red thread.”

  Julia took her by the arm and led her toward the shop. It did not escape her notice that the party had entered the same shop and Evelyn told herself it did not matter. Lord Sanders had likely been informed of her deceit and would give her the cut direct—which she most definitely deserved. Swallowing the bitter taste in her mouth, Evelyn stepped inside the shop.

  If only she had been honest from the beginning.

  “Such a quaint little town,” a young woman was saying. “Such cute little houses. However do you think people live inside them? All pushed together as they are, I mean. There cannot be room to turn around.”

  Julia froze beside Evelyn and she took her friend’s arm for support. If things went the way Evelyn planned, she could very well be residing in one of those houses herself. And there was certainly nothing wrong with that scenario.

  “They are poor, Cassandra,” an older woman said. “They do not know any better.”

  A third woman, regal and prim, spoke to the shop girl. “Have you any fans?”

  “Yes, madam. Allow me a moment to fetch them.”

  Lord Sanders stepped away from the party, grazing the items along the wall slowly. He turned, pausing when he caught sight of the women standing near the door. Evelyn held his gaze a moment before casting her gaze to the wooden floor, ashamed anew by the knowing light in his eyes.

  He approached, his boots causing a loud, jarring echo in the room. Dipping a bow, he said, “Miss Trainor.”

  Evelyn’s face flushed and she turned, catching his pale blue gaze. What did he wish to say to her? She swallowed her apprehension when his eyes flicked toward Julia. “Lord Sanders,” she said, finding her voice and dipping a curtsy, “allow me to introduce my friend, Miss Cooper.”

  “The doctor’s sister?” Lord Sanders asked.

  “Yes, my lord,” Julia said. “Are you acquainted with my brother?”

  “Indeed. Very good man.”

  “He is,” she agreed. They looked at one another a moment longer before Lord Sanders turned his attention to Evelyn.

  “Did you enjoy your Christmas?”

  Despite facing disappointment from multiple areas, she had enjoyed Christmas day. The quaintly decorated rooms with evergreen boughs and holly, and gathering with loved ones around the Yule log had warmed her soul in a much needed way. She nodded.

  “And do you plan to attend the Twelfth Night assemblies in town?” he asked, turning to Julia to include her in the question.

  “I do not—”

  Julia cut her off. “Yes. We do. We both shall be attending the assemblies.”

  “Very good. I look forward to seeing you there. Perhaps,” Lord Sanders paused, looking over his shoulder at the women standing before the counter. The youngest of his guests watched with interest, her fair complexion wrinkled in confusion. He settled back on Julia. “Miss Cooper, might I have the first set?”

  Her cheeks grew pink, but Julia held his gaze. “Of course, my lord.”

  “And Miss Trainor,” he said, turning toward Evelyn. “Might I claim the second?”

  Shock bloomed in her chest. He knew of her deceit, for he had called her properly by her own name. And still he wished to dance with her? Alverton could not have forgiven her so readily, of course. But why had Lord Sanders?

  Silence stretched a moment too long, perhaps, for Julia’s foot reached under Evelyn’s gown and kicked her softly on the boot. “Yes, my lord,” Evelyn said quickly. “I would be honored.”

  He bowed again. “Until the ball.”

  The women curtsied to Lord Sanders, keeping quiet as he gathered his guests and escorted them outside the shop.

  “What in heaven’s name was that about?” Julia asked quietly, watching the earl through the window.

  “I haven’t the faintest,” Evelyn responded. “But he certainly knows all, or he would not have called me by the correct name.”

  “If only I had the wherewithal to ask if the duke would be attending,” Julia said. “But I could not think straight with his striking eyes trained on me just so. They were the exact color of a winter sky.”

  Evelyn could not help but grin. “Julia, you shock me. What shall you do when you dance with him if you cannot make conversation in a shop?”

  “I shall hope we are dancing very involved reels, and that I am not called upon for conversation. For I do not know what I will say.”

  The women laughed together, but Evelyn could not remove from her mind the interested gaze of the younger woman. She was not jealous, as a suitor of Lord Sanders would have been by his requesting the first two sets of dances. And that, in Evelyn’s mind, could only mean one thing.

  The young woman was after the duke, instead.

  Chapter 14

  Hiding behind a tree like a small child was well beneath Alverton’s rank and age, but he could not help it. When he’d heard the quick footsteps originally, he’d intended to stand his ground, allow the woman to pass him, and deliver the cut direct like any foibled Peer ought to do in his situation.

  But then Evelyn had come into view, so utterly distraught, and he’d lost his resolve.

  Instead of teaching her a well-deserved lesson, Alverton had jumped behind a cluster of trees and peeked through their branches, utterly hidden from view and able to watch Evelyn lean against the massive tree, dropping her head in her hands and expelling shuddering breaths.

  Oh, how he longed to cross the distance and pull her into his arms. To stroke her silky hair and whisper to her that he could make her troubles cease.

  She had been ruthlessly dishonest, and he found he could not forgive her lies. But that did not discount the troubles she faced regarding her father’s health or her brothers’ well-being.

  If only he could be assured that those were the only troubles she faced. Alas, there was no way to ascertain without approaching her. And that was simply something he could not do.

  But he could watch her now without anyone the wiser, and he allowed himself to soak in her beauty for one more moment.

  And then she looked up. Alverton paused, for she was looking nearly directly at him and he wondered if she could see him through the trees. Her face had gone from distressed to resolved, and he could see in her mannerisms that she had come to a decision of some sort.

  And
blast his rebellious heart, he passionately wished to know the nature of that resolve.

  Instead, he held his breath, and his tongue, while Evelyn continued on the path through the grove, passing by his tree just an arm’s length away.

  When the sound of her soft footsteps against the frozen ground dissipated, Alverton sighed, leaning his forehead against the tree. It was cold, and he only remained that way a moment before turning onto the path.

  If Evelyn was gone, then he could slip through the grove and to the Trainor’s house quickly to check on young Harry. The idea grew more pleasant as he considered the various components of his scheme and he was already walking toward the house before he’d determined that it was a safe option.

  A tall, stately butler answered the door and admitted him into the foyer at once. “The master is in the library, your grace.”

  The object of his visit vanished immediately as this fortunate happenstance was brought to light and Alverton nodded, following the butler toward the library. Curiosity coursed through him. He was not going to miss the opportunity to meet Evelyn’s father.

  The last time he’d entered that particular room he’d been carrying a young, injured boy. In the light of day, the library had a much less ominous feel to it.

  But he would refrain from sitting on the leather sofa, all the same.

  “Mr. Trainor,” Alverton said, dipping his head.

  Using his cane, Mr. Trainor pushed himself to his feet at once, bowing to the duke. “What do I owe this pleasure, your grace?” the man asked, his mustache quivering.

  “Forgive me, but I’ve come to call on young master Harry.”

  The older man’s eyebrows hitched up. “Send for him,” he said over the duke’s shoulder, likely to the butler, and Alverton lifted a hand at once.

  “He needn’t be bothered. I can go to him.”

  “Nonsense. The boy has been rearing to leave his bedchamber and this is a good enough excuse.”

  Alverton’s mouth slipped into a small smile. He was glad to be considered good enough by Mr. Trainor.

  “I know you are a Tory, your grace, and I shall do my best not to hold it against you,” Mr. Trainor said, gesturing to the leather chair near his own.

  Alverton could not help but chuckle at the man’s wit, as he lowered himself into the seat. The man had gumption to address a duke in such a comfortable manner, so Alverton delivered equal frankness. “And I heard that you ought to retire, and yet you stubbornly refuse.”

  Mr. Trainor tilted his head, his eyes narrowing. “You’ve been talking to my daughter, I presume?”

  “Some,” Alverton admitted.

  “Bah. Poppycock, that’s what I say.”

  “You needn’t step down for the good of your health?”

  Mr. Trainor stared at the duke unapologetically. “I need to remain for the good of my health. Are you married, your grace?”

  “No,” Alverton answered, surprised by the turn of conversation. He began to harden his resolve, prepared to flee at a moment’s notice. Was this man following his daughter’s plan, or perhaps the other way around?

  “Then you may not understand this. But my wife died in childbirth, delivering my sons nearly ten years ago. Ten years, young man. Do you realize how very long that is?”

  “I can imagine,” he replied. This was certainly not the direction he’d anticipated this conversation going, and it had been quite a long time since he’d been referred to as a young man. He rather appreciated Mr. Trainor’s gall.

  Mr. Trainor sighed. “I loved my wife dearly, you see. And while I have much to be grateful for, I cannot be here in this house and not miss her. I miss her so deeply that it pains me, and it is not a pain which my beautiful daughter or my lively sons can fix. They are not my beloved wife.”

  “And so you devote yourself to politics,” Alverton finished, understanding settling on his shoulders.

  Mr. Trainor nodded. He leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes.

  “You know,” he said with familiarity, “I have always enjoyed your speeches, your grace. You are quite brilliant for a Tory.”

  Alverton smiled, his body relaxing into his own chair. Footsteps sounded in the corridor outside the library and the door squeaked open, admitting a footman carrying a young boy, another boy trailing close behind them.

  “How is our young pirate-hunter today?” Alverton asked.

  “Bored,” Harry answered. The footman set him on the sofa and he sat up, stretching his legs across the length of the cushions. Jack sat on the other end of the couch, watching the duke with wide-eyed reverence.

  “Has the doctor returned to check your leg?” Alverton asked. Soft snoring to his left grabbed his attention and he turned to find Mr. Trainor soundly asleep.

  “I’m healing along fine,” Harry said. “But he doesn’t want me walking until tomorrow.”

  Alverton raised his eyebrow. “You will be careful, I presume?”

  Harry nodded rapidly. “Evelyn won’t let me outside if I’m not.”

  Alverton’s heart constricted at the familiar use of her name. He longed to inquire after her, but worried about the forwardness of such a thing. Shooting a glance to the older man, he confirmed Mr. Trainor’s sleep before asking, “And is she here?”

  “No,” Jack said. “She’s gone off to town.”

  “London?” he asked, though he knew it was not true. He simply wanted to hear more about her errand.

  Jack laughed. “Derham. I heard Aunt Edith tell her to find a husband there.”

  Alverton paused. That made very little sense. “How is she to manage that?”

  Jack lifted a shoulder. “I don’t know. But I know it’s important.”

  “Oh?” Alverton did his best to sound uninterested. It was a feat, indeed, for the information he was receiving was very, very interesting.

  Jack nodded, swallowing. “She must, if she is going to save us from the poorhouse.”

  Alverton stilled. He would not ask the boy to repeat his words for there was no way he had misheard him, however much he wished to. But if Mr. Trainor was in such dire straits, would he not do something himself to save his family?

  No, he would not. Where would the sense be in such a thing when he had a perfectly beautiful daughter, poised and elegant, with a natural talent to sing and win men’s hearts available? He could much more easily marry her off and receive the security he needed that way.

  Bile rose in his throat and Alverton stood quickly. It was all too much. Coming here had been a mistake.

  Alverton smiled at the red-headed boy. “I hope you can return to your ship tomorrow, Harry. But be careful or you will ruin your leg forever.”

  “You sound like my sister,” Harry said.

  Alverton did not know whether that was a compliment or not, but judging by the distaste on the boy’s face, it certainly was not meant as one.

  “Good day, boys.”

  They said farewell and Alverton let himself out. Crossing the snowy lawn, he picked his way through the grove and marched to Chesford Hall.

  He could not allow himself to pity Evelyn’s plight, for it was likely that horrible circumstance which forced her into her deceitful actions.

  But all the same, he did not rejoice in her trials, either.

  Letting himself into Chesford Hall, he slammed the door too loudly, the sound reverberating from the empty foyer’s walls. Silence met him and he was glad he had not agreed to go into Derham with the ladies. He needed the silence and peace to consider the new information and how he would process it.

  For Evelyn needed to marry a man of means, and that man could not be him.

  Chapter 15

  It had been days since Evelyn had seen the duke, but that did not stop her from thinking about him. Her traitorous heart did little else.

  And yet, she needed to find a way. It was inevitable; she needed to wed. She had a man chosen particularly for the very purpose whom she was nearly certain would accept her proposal.

  The di
fficulty lay in completing the task. Each time Evelyn convinced herself to return to town and seek out Dr. Cooper, she balked. He was a good man and he would make a comfortable, fair husband. But he did not have her heart.

  Evelyn descended the stairs. If only she could locate her brothers, then she could use them to distract herself.

  A knock came at the front door and the butler appeared out of nowhere, opening it and ushering a woman inside, snow and wind sneaking into the house with her.

  “Julia?” Evelyn asked, recognizing the cloak shrouding her friend.

  Julia’s face was concerned, and Evelyn flew down the stairs with haste.

  “What is it?” she asked, resting her hands upon her friend’s forearms.

  “We’ve received word that there is a family in the church with nothing.” Julia was breathless, shadows falling over her face in the dim corridor. Evelyn debated whether she should guide her friend to a seat or remain standing when Julia continued. “They traveled to Derham on the hope that their family would take them in but came to discover that their family is long gone.”

  “Who is it?”

  “The Jacobsens,” Julia said.

  “But they left for London over a year ago,” Evelyn said. “Julia, can I get you some tea? Won’t you come sit down a moment?”

  The woman’s breaths heaved as though she’d run all the way from the center of town. Snow clung to her shoulders and glittered from her bonnet.

  She shook her head. “I cannot. I’ve only come to inquire what sort of assistance you might offer. They are quite willing to serve and the oldest daughter worked as an undermaid in an estate up north before a fire swept the land and they lost everything, including her position.”

  Evelyn sucked in a breath. “How horrible.”

  Julia paused and Evelyn realized, belatedly, that it was time for her to offer assistance. But what could she do? They were not in a position to take in an entire family. “We do not have need of additional servants. Indeed, we do not have the space or the requirement.”

  “Mr. Hart has agreed to house them in the rectory until a permanent situation can be found, but the mother is with child and in dire straits. Mr. Hart is not equipped to care for her.” Shaking her head in wonder, Julia said, “I’m not sure how they even traveled all this way in such conditions.”