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

by Kasey Stockton

  “I shall sleep soundly until the assemblies,” Julia said as they reached her front doorstep.

  “If only the same could be said for your brother.” Evelyn indicated Dr. Cooper crossing the street further down. He appeared as though he could drop to the ground at any moment and fall into a deep sleep, and yet he crossed from the vicarage to a street which led to the Taylor’s house, and Evelyn assumed he was doing his duty to check on his patients.

  Julia nodded. “If only he can find someone.”

  “Who’s to say he won’t?”

  Julia pierced her with a look. “He will not even bother looking while his eyes are fastened so securely upon one woman.”

  Evelyn swallowed. It was on the tip of her tongue to inform her friend of her plan to accept him, but the words would not leave her mouth. Instead she said, “It is not intentional.”

  “I know,” Julia said, sighing. “Good day, Evelyn.”

  Turning from her friend, she picked her way across the cobblestone street to the road which led toward home. Her thoughts were wrapped up in the events which had transpired since the storm set in, as though the snowy clouds had brought trouble with them. She was glad things were settled for the Howell family, and that Dr. Cooper expected the duke to make a full recovery. What she could not remove from her mind was her own personal dilemma, and the safety and future of her brothers.

  “Good day, Miss Trainor.”

  She glanced up from her reverie and found Lord Sanders sitting atop a horse not far from her, his hat removed as he nodded to her.

  “Good day, my lord.”

  “Quite a storm we had, was it not?”

  “Indeed. I have just come from the vicarage. It seems that quite a few people were affected by the weather.”

  “Alverton is set to make a full recovery,” he said.

  She nodded.

  “Shall I extend your greetings?”

  “You needn’t bother, my lord,” Evelyn said. “I extended them myself.”

  Sander’s brow rose. “And yet, his own mother was not permitted in the sick room. They’ve just returned to Chesford and Miss Rowe was positively distraught over not laying eyes on the duke.”

  Evelyn could not contain her smile. “I believe Dr. Cooper thought it would benefit the patient’s health to keep loud noises away from him until his head has healed properly.”

  “Wise man.”

  “He is,” Evelyn agreed.

  Lord Sanders regarded her closely, his eyes narrowing slightly. “And here I wondered…” He shook his head and closed his mouth. “Well, I must be off. Good day to you, Miss Trainor.”

  Dipping a curtsy, she watched his horse trot away.

  Chapter 20

  Dr. Cooper was satisfied by Alverton’s progress and deemed him fit for a short ride home that evening. He was fortunate, he’d been told, that he’d only acquired a bump on the head and nothing more. But an injury which caused him to be out of commission for an entire night was nothing to take lightly, and the doctor requested Alverton do little more than rest for the next fortnight while he checked on him daily.

  Alverton wondered if such extreme measures were necessary. But he promised to listen for the first few days, at least.

  Sanders sent for Alverton’s own carriage and helped him outside. The walking was manageable, but his head pounded fiercely and by the time he was settled against the plush squab he was ready to sleep once again.

  “I was fortunate to encounter Miss Trainor this afternoon,” Sanders said as the carriage rumbled slowly down the lane. “I would not be surprised if we were to hear an announcement of her engagement shortly.”

  “What causes you to say that?” Alverton asked, his eyes closed.

  “Nothing in particular. But the way she referred to the doctor today caused me to wonder about the nature of their relationship.”

  Alverton’s eyes shot open. Sanders was watching him.

  “You know you must act now or you could very well be too late,” he said, shocking the duke.

  “What do you mean?” Alverton asked, though he could guess.

  Sanders shook his head. “I am no fool. I have seen where your affections lie. I cannot claim to know Miss Trainor, but I can see that she is far better suited to be your wife than that wretched Miss Rowe.”

  “Miss Rowe never had a chance.”

  “And you might miss yours with Miss Trainor if you do not act quickly. The doctor has been in love with her for years, according to the servants’ gossip. And she clearly returns a level of his regard. People have married for less.”

  “Gads, Sanders. Is this really the time?” Alverton’s head pounded and his body felt weak. He already offered for her once that day and was quickly dismissed. He needed to sleep for a week and then he would be able to address the issue of Miss Trainor and the doctor. To argue his case.

  “I overheard the doctor speaking to the vicar last night when you were asleep, which was why I questioned the servants at all,” Sanders said, unrelenting. “Cooper seems to feel that you are a threat to his suit and has chosen to make one last effort to secure her hand before you are able to do it first. The vicar seemed to think Dr. Cooper did not have much competition.”

  “Because Miss Trainor would never accept me?” Alverton asked. He swallowed a laugh at the pathetic truth to that statement.

  “No,” Sanders said. “Because you are too proud to offer for her.”

  Alverton shut his eyes again. The vicar was an astute man. Alverton indeed suffered from pride. A fault which caused him to push Miss Trainor away initially and forbid himself from considering her a valuable partner. But the vicar did not realize one thing.

  He did not realize that Alverton loved Evelyn. And love trumped pride. Or that the duke had foolishly mentioned marriage to the woman already.

  “What shall I do?” Alverton asked, his voice soft and strained. He couldn’t fault Evelyn’s original dismissal. He had just awoken after a head injury when he’d begged her to accept him.

  Sanders chuckled. “That is for you to decide. But whatever it is, you must act quickly.”

  He considered the conversation with her by his sick bed, when he’d asked her to sing and she’d merely laughed. The woman cared for him, or so he’d let himself believe. But she could not believe his suit to be authentic. How did he alter that? “She does not take me seriously.”

  “Then prove to her you mean it.”

  That, he could do. If only his head would cease its pounding long enough to determine a plan. “Stop the carriage.”

  “I did not mean now—”

  “Stop the carriage,” Alverton repeated. “Direct your man to drive to Miss Trainor’s house now.”

  Sanders watched the duke with trepidation. He opened his mouth to argue once more but must have realized the sincerity of Alverton’s request, for he pounded his fist hard upon the ceiling and waited while the carriage rolled to a slow stop.

  When the servant arrived at the door and heard Sanders’ request, he did well not to look surprised. “Right away, my lord,” he said, after flicking a glance in the duke’s direction.

  The carriage pulled slightly forward before it began turning around and it was clear that they had already reached Chesford Place—Sanders’ home.

  “Would you like to remain here while I go about my errand?” Alverton inquired.

  “No,” Sanders said at once, a grin forming on his lips. “I would like to watch this unfold.”

  The remainder of the ride back to the road and then onto Evelyn’s house was silent and Alverton grew anxious. The feeling could not be good for his healing.

  “Perhaps this was not the best time,” Sanders began, warily surveying his friend.

  “No, you said the words yourself. I must beat Cooper to it.”

  When the carriage stopped once more, Alverton pulled himself up and out of the carriage, his head throbbing as he picked his way toward the front door, Sanders remaining behind. A footman had gone on ahead of him
and as he mounted the stairs and entered the foyer, the butler stood in wait.

  “Miss Trainor, please,” he said unceremoniously.

  The butler nodded. “Might I direct you to the parlor, your grace?”

  “Is it empty?”

  If that shocked the butler, he did not show it. “No, your grace. Mrs. Chadwick is settled in the parlor with Miss Trainor.”

  “Then the library?” Alverton asked.

  “Yes, that is empty, your grace.”

  He grunted, wishing he could fall into bed. But first, he needed to beg Evelyn to become his wife. Again.

  The butler led him toward the library and he sat on the end of the leather sofa, waiting with as much patience as he could muster.

  “Your grace,” Evelyn breathed, and he raised his head to find her standing beside the door, shocked. “You should be resting. At home.”

  “I have all night to rest. I needed to see you. Please, come in.”

  An amused smile lit her lips and she acquiesced, coming to sit across from him in a large, overstuffed chair which positively dwarfed her.

  Silence stretched as he consumed the sight of her. Regal and poised, yet kind and warm. She was duchess material and he had been a fool to ever think otherwise. The only thing he would change were her hideous gowns—she deserved to be clothed in the very best.

  “I owe you an apology,” he began. “I have been prideful and arrogant, and I did not see sense that day in the grove.”

  She appeared as though she agreed with him, though she was too much a lady to say so aloud. Funny, that.

  He cleared his throat. “I realize I may be shocking you with my forwardness, but I could not go one day further without knowing you forgive me for the way I reacted to your admission.”

  “Of course I forgive you, your grace,” she said without delay.

  “Then must you sit so far away?”

  Her eyebrows rose and her gaze shot to the open door. Standing, she crossed the blue carpet and lowered herself on the other end of the sofa.

  “Evelyn,” he said, reaching for her hand. “Please tell me you have not received another offer of marriage. Please tell me I am not too late.”

  The quiet between them grew and stretched until the chatter in another room further down the corridor could be heard. He began to grow anxious waiting for her to speak.

  She finally opened her mouth and said, “I cannot, your grace. For it would not be true. I received another offer of marriage just this afternoon.”

  Chapter 21

  Alverton looked as though he was a child and his mother had come along and taken away his new puppy. It tore through Evelyn’s heart to see him so disposed, but she feared it was inevitable.

  For she could never be a duchess.

  “What do you mean?” he asked.

  “Precisely that. Another gentleman called on me not a half hour ago and requested that I marry him.”

  He swallowed visibly. “And what did you answer the man?”

  She sucked in a breath. “That I needed to marry.”

  Alverton squeezed his eyes closed and dropped his head. “I shall leave you,” he said, pushing himself to a stand.

  She yearned to explain the whole of it, but the dowager duchess came to mind and she promptly closed her mouth again. How could she follow in such esteemed footsteps? The woman had hardly spared her a glance upon meeting her in the vicar’s parlor earlier that day; surely she would never permit a union between Evelyn and Alverton.

  Even if he chose to defy his mother, what sort of life would that be? Evelyn would not wish to cause discord between them.

  But Alverton’s mother aside, Evelyn knew her own mind quite well. And her daydreams of childhood and the desire she held onto for years of becoming a lady of nobility and prestige were not, after all, the desires of her heart. She was far better suited to being the wife of a doctor in a small country parish, than a duchess. “Allow me to escort you out,” Evelyn said, reaching for his arm and supporting him.

  He pulled away as though her touch had bitten him. “No, I can walk. Good evening, Miss Trainor.”

  He bowed, but the wince on his brow was evidence of his discomfort. She watched in sorrow as the duke left her alone in the library, taking himself from the house with no triumph. He’d intended to ask her to marry him again, of that she had no doubt. But he was not in his right mind, and the moment his head healed from his trauma he would undoubtedly regret his decision.

  Evelyn blew out a huff of air. Was he positively mad? The man had come into her humble house with the direct knowledge that she was a simple daughter of a gentleman with the express interest in making her a duchess.

  Regret began to form in her stomach, but she quickly squashed it away. Her feelings aside, it felt wrong. She felt as though she’d swindled the man into falling in love with her. He did not love Evelyn. He loved the idea that Lady Eve had planted in his mind. He was smitten by her voice, true, but also by the dream she had created when she led him to believe that she existed as a lady.

  And it simply wasn’t true.

  She would do much better to accept Dr. Cooper and live a cozy existence in the squished house in Derham as a doctor’s wife.

  She could excel in that capacity. She did not even know what to do were she to become a duchess. And then, to be under the tutelage of Alverton’s mother? She wrinkled her nose in disgust. It could not be borne.

  “Evelyn,” Aunt Edith said crisply, her mouth pinched in disdain. “What did the duke speak to you about?”

  “He inquired about my evening,” she said truthfully. “I told him of Dr. Cooper’s visit.”

  Aunt Edith watched her through hawk’s eyes and Evelyn’s skin crawled.

  “You better make a choice quickly,” the older woman said. “Security is a valuable thing.”

  Security for Evelyn, or for her family? She watched her aunt a moment longer. “I will do what is best for my family,” she said. Of course she would.

  Aunt Edith grunted before leaving the room, her heels clicking down the marble floor.

  Evelyn squeezed her eyes closed and leaned back against the sofa.

  “For what it’s worth,” a small voice said behind her, causing her to jump up. “I rather like the duke.”

  She turned around to find two sets of eyes watching her beneath unruly mops of red hair, tucked underneath the writing table along the far wall.

  “Harry and Jack, I have told you many times how terribly rude it is to spy on people. How long have you been there?”

  They pulled themselves from their hiding place, sheepishly dipping their heads. Harry’s leg was doing much better, and his limp was less pronounced than it had been the day before. The gash was healing along quickly and they had Dr. Cooper to thank.

  And Alverton, she realized, as she considered his part in carrying the boy all the way from the grove.

  She focused her attention on her younger brothers, doing her best to appear stern. “Well?”

  “We were here first,” Jack said.

  Harry added, “And we didn’t try to listen.”

  “Off to bed with you both.”

  They groaned, their voices joining to create one irritated sound.

  She raised her eyebrows, holding her expression as they trudged toward the door.

  Jack looked back over his shoulder as he reached the corridor. “The duke is really nice.”

  She wanted to groan, but resisted. “Goodnight, boys.”

  “Goodnight, Evelyn,” they chorused back.

  Now she simply needed to determine how she ought to inform the doctor that she would be his wife, when the very thought sent her stomach into swirls.

  * * *

  “This cannot be a good idea,” Evelyn whispered as their carriage pulled away from the house. Darkness met her outside the windows and she trailed a gloved hand down the foggy glass.

  “Whatever can you mean?” Aunt Edith asked, her feather bobbing along with the bouncing carriage. “It is me
rely an assembly.”

  “But I look ridiculous,” Evelyn argued. She should not have allowed Aunt Edith to persuade her to wear the violet silk, but she did believe it set off her eyes rather nicely and the gauzy overlay had eventually won her over.

  Her pride had allowed her to dress in such a way. But what would Alverton think?

  She shook her head. He was not going to be there. Not with his injuries. And in any case, her objective of the evening was to let Dr. Cooper know she had decided to accept him.

  “You do not look ridiculous. Those ugly brown gowns you constantly wear look far sillier than this.”

  “Than my cousin Harriet’s cast-off? It is a fashion from three years ago, at least.” Not that Evelyn minded the out-of-date gown. She was merely fretful.

  Aunt Edith snorted. “Be glad she married so well or she would not have left those gowns behind for you to benefit from.”

  Evelyn turned, facing the window. She was grateful, of course. But she did not have to rejoice in the cast-offs, did she?

  They pulled in front of the assembly hall, halting in the center of the road. A servant opened the door and let down the step before handing out each of the women. Evelyn turned toward the assembly hall, light spilling from the windows onto the street and highlighting Derham society within.

  Aunt Edith gripped her forearm, forcing her to spin back around and face her irritable aunt. Evelyn attempted to yank her arm free, but the older woman would not relent. “This is possibly your last chance to do anything you can to snag a titled husband. Do not be foolish, girl. You are much too exalted in your opinion of yourself. You owe it to your father and your brothers to do what you can to secure their safety and happiness.”

  Evelyn held the woman’s gaze. While her advice was ill-formed, her reasoning was sound.

  “I have a plan,” Evelyn said calmly. She did not inform the woman that her plan involved a doctor and not a duke or an earl, but that was irrelevant. That she did what she could to provide for her family was uppermost in her mind.