“Do what?” Frederic asked.
“There is no point in denying it,” Evelyn said, rounding on her brother. “We know the truth. How could you, Frederic? Diadem is innocent in this. How could you cause her pain?”
He slumped. Whether he did not have the heart or the wit to continue his act, the result was the same.
“Think of it as a compliment,” said Pemberton. “He thought your horse so likely to win; he had to sabotage the event to make certain he did not lose his bet.”
“I thought there was a chance, at least.” Frederic dropped his head into his hands.
“But how did you do it?” his sister asked. “I know you are afraid of horses, and not a skilled enough actor to be faking that.”
His reply was muffled by his palms. “I paid a groom to do it.”
She bit back an expletive of her own, one that would have made Frederic proud. “Who was it? I will have them dismissed and more beside!”
“Oh not one of yours, Evelyn. They are all loyal as dogs,” he said. “One of Pemberton’s. The young curly-haired fellow.”
The Duke bristled. He clenched his hands into fists at his sides, his fingers as still as she had ever seen them.
“Ronald. He will pay for this mark me.” Duke reached for Evelyn’s hand. “I am not entirely blameless then, for the groom was in my employ, but be aware he will not be employed long. Forgive me, Lady Evelyn.”
His palm was warm. It was pleasant, and unnerving.
“I do.” She accepted but pulled her hand free.
“You will have your winnings, Evermont. I agreed to pay your sister’s bet, should her horse lose. It is the least I can do, with a traitorous staff member to blame for the loss. Now, excuse me, I must see to the bastard’s punishment.”
He was gone as quickly as that and Evelyn was alone with her brother. Though he seemed sincere in his remorse, looking as dogged as he did, she could not forgive his actions.
“If you were any gentleman at all, you would refuse that money,” Evelyn said to her brother, latching on to her anger. It was a safer emotion than the one she had felt at The Duke’s touch. “But you have not even a shred of decency left, I see. Do you brother?”
“Must you always nag? I apologized, so move past it.” And, as an afterthought he added. “Will the beast recover?”
“I hope so, or you have cost us one of our most promising racehorses.” She laughed. “Not that you care a smidgen for the state of Evermont’s bloodlines.”
“I would have sold all of the beasts when father died, but I thought it would turn you into an even more miserable living companion than you are now.”
“Do you expect a thank you for that kindness?”
He waved a dismissive hand. “My head aches. Leave me. Your nagging makes it worse.”
“Your costly and excessive consumption of alcohol is what makes it worse,” she argued, but obliged. She wanted to be gone, as well.
Frederic snagged her skirts on her way past him and she stopped before he could rip the fabric with his carelessness.
“Your little infatuation has not gone unnoticed, sister, even by me. Do not embarrass yourself. George is a Duke,” he said, and released her.
She refused to dwell on his words. She huffed and turned to leave. Drunks were delusional and often imagined things while in their cups. Stanton would have seen Diadem would be tended to by now, so Evelyn went back out to the stable to check her. It would be a shame to see her retired to a broodmare, but if the leg was not fit for racing that was all she could hope for. She closed her eyes collecting herself. This was a disaster.
~.~
Chapter Six
“It is too soon to tell what the lasting damage will be,” Stanton said. He was hovering around the mare’s stall. “I pulled the nail and applied a poultice. The boys will see to it she gets a cold sponging on the leg every hour. Tomorrow we will soak it again and reapply the poultice. It will be a week before we know the damage.”
“It seems as good a plan as any.” Evelyn kissed the mare’s velvet nose. “Have you seen The Duke pass this way? He was looking for one of his grooms.”
“I did, and sent him in the man’s direction, but I would not be in that man’s shoes for any sum.”
“What do you mean?” Evelyn asked.
“The Duke had a frightening look about him, My Lady. Dark as a storm cloud.” Stanton shook his head. “He would be done with that business now, I imagine, and you may find him with Kingston in the paddock.”
She did find Pemberton there, stroking his grey stallion. Kingston stood quivering under his master’s touch.
“The man has paid for his misdeed,” was all The Duke said when she approached.
Evelyn did not want to know more than that. Kingston, realizing his owner’s attention had left him, gave The Duke a rude shove with his nose. Pemberton surprised her when he did not strike or reprimand the horse.
“I expect you think he is ill-trained,” Pemberton said, inclining his head at the stallion and scratching the boy beneath his chin. “In comparison to yours, I suppose he is.”
“You are not a foolish man, Your Grace, so your methods must work or you would change them.” She pursed her lips. “They could be improved upon, of course.”
“Of course.” He held his arm out to her and she laid her hand upon it. They stood for a moment before the big gray stallion and he snuffled Evelyn curiously.
Together, they walked along the paddock. Grey-bottomed clouds encroached upon the blue sky, bringing the threat of a summer thunderstorm.
“Will we back before it begins?” she asked, looking up at the clouds.
“We are not far from the stables. I think we are safe.”
They walked along a dirt path cut through the pastures and listened to the droning buzz of insects among the tall grass. Horses lifted their heads in interest at the intruders, but grew bored of the humans’ meandering stroll and returned to the more interesting subject of food.
“I have a solution to the matter of the bet,” The Duke said.
Her stomach sank. She had forgotten with all the drama of the morning that she now owed the man quite a sizable sum, one she had never expected to have to pay.
“In lieu of paying your agreed upon bet, as you cannot afford it, I will accept your stable in payment. The grooms and other staff will remain, for they will know best how to care for the horses, and truthfully there is no room for even this handful of horses in my stable. It is full to bursting with new foals due any day.”
Evelyn stopped. His words were a nightmare come to life and she could not breathe. She wanted to pretend she had not heard, but they hung in the air, needling like a biting fly.
“You sound as if you are offering me a most gracious gift, when in truth you are threatening to take my most prized possession!”
“I believe I am being quite generous. Or do you have a pile of funds secreted away somewhere?”
“No,” she said softly.
“I did not think so.”
“Even when you attempt to be a gentleman, your true nature is apparent! Any man of respectability would not hold a woman to a bet he knew she could not manage to pay.”
“Lady Evelyn, mind your tone. I refuse to back out of a deal, and I respect you far too much to believe you would be comfortable with me doing so. I intend to allow you to visit the stables as you have been, and will take your opinion into account with decisions concerning the horses. It is a most gracious offer.”
He did not raise his voice, nor stamp about as her brother did when in a mood. His anger was quiet and contained, but far more frightening. Evelyn did not care if he was angry, for she was far angrier and with far more right to be so.
“Kind? Oh indeed. How kind of you to allow me to have input regarding my own horses, my own stable!”
“Before the stable was your brother’s; it was your father’s,” he said. “It has never been yours, Lady Evelyn.” His words stung like sweat in a wound. “Nor wil
l it be.”
She knew he was right. The thought rankled, but it was true. She raised her chin a little and stared him down, but he didn’t look away and she began to feel her eyes water with frustrated tears.
“I think you have been indulged by the men in your life thus far. The truth is, a mare cannot stand against a stallion even if she is strong and full of heart.”
“She was hurt,” Evelyn protested.
“So she was,” The Duke said softly.
“And Frederic is not punished at all for this, it is only I who suffers,” she said. “After all he won with his deceit this morning, but he cannot spare a bit of compassion for his sister.”
“This is for the best,” The Duke said. “As your brother proved, he has no love for the horses.”
“No. And no compassion,” Lady Evelyn agreed, “But you are both horrible!”
“I shall escort you back to the house now, so you may settle yourself.” This time, his arm was not an offer, but a demand. She took it, knowing she looked petulant and childish, and they walked back to the manor in silence.
~.~
Chapter Seven
It was only after a long bath and a hot cup of tea that she felt well enough to go downstairs. Bess had curled Evelyn’s hair and left ringlets loose to frame her face while the rest was twisted up and pinned behind a ribbon. Evelyn paired it with another charcoal grey dress and pearls. The colors exaggerated her pale complexion, but she liked the effect of the monochromatic palette.
“It is fair, I know that Bess,” Evelyn said, dabbing apple scented perfume onto her wrist. “More than fair, but I do not want him to feel as though he owns me now as well.”
“He sees how your brother has treated you, My Lady. He wants to take care of you, and the horses. Surely there are worse things than that?”
“Surely.” Evelyn straightened the jars on her vanity and laid her brush down in its place between them. “If it were anyone except The Duke…”
“Because you have feelings for him?”
Evelyn turned with such vigor she bumped the vanity and jostled all of her possessions out of place again. Bess laughed.
“I do not!” Evelyn protested.
“Everyone else can see it, My Lady. Even The Lord Evermont.” Bess bent to pick a silver comb up from the floor.
“It does not matter,” Evelyn said at last. “He is a Duke, Bess. He has his pick of ladies. He will not pick the shrewish sister of his near beggared best friend.”
“Then perhaps, the sister should not be so shrewish,” Bess said, and Evelyn frowned at her. It was not seemly for a lady’s maid to speak so to her mistress, but Evelyn did not reprimand her. Bess had been one of the few people she could speak to this past year. Flustered, she did not reply at all.
~.~
Frederic and Pemberton were playing a hand of cards when she went down to the parlor and their boisterous laughter filled the room. Her subtle apple fragrance was drowned by the smell of smoke and spice and brandy.
“Lady Evelyn,” The Duke said, laying down his hand and standing to greet her. His voice set her heart to racing.
Did she care for him? If so, it had happened without her notice. She could not deny the flip of her stomach when he smiled at her.
“Your Grace,” she said. “May we speak?”
“Of course. Evermont, do you mind?”
Frederic shot Evelyn a withering glare. He slapped his cards down onto the playing table and skulked out of the room-- once again leaving her alone with The Duke. In his half-drunken oblivious state Frederic was either unaware of the impropriety, or he just didn’t care. She ignored her brother, and moved to the corner of the parlor where a chessboard was set out with a half-played game. The white player was being beaten soundly.
“I accept your offer,” said Evelyn. “And I apologize for my rudeness earlier. It was unseemly.” She fingered the scalloped crown of the black queen. The white queen lay taken.
“It was a chance to see a chink in that pristine armor of yours,” The Duke said. “I enjoyed it.”
“You would.” Evelyn slid an ivory pawn forward. “Though you will own the stable on paper, I expect all decisions will go through me. I know what is best for those horses. I have seen some of them foaled.”
The Duke clasped his hand over hers before she could lift it from the piece.
“There is no saving that game,” he said. “Your brother is a terrible chess player. Nearly as awful at the game as he is at cards.”
She looked up at him, at his slightly crooked nose and scarred eyebrow, and slight smile. “Perhaps the best option is to surrender, then.”
He pressed her back against the petite table, almost touching his body to hers. The motion jostled the chess table and sent pieces skittering across the smooth surface of the board. Evelyn gasped in surprise, but he held her hands in his until she stilled.
“Is it so dreadful to give up control?” he asked, his voice a soft rumble against her ear that rode down into her belly. The moment held as his deep blue eyes bored into hers. She could smell the brandy and the smoke, and something else underneath, a scent that was particularly male. She felt her lips part of their own accord.
“I do not surrender easily” She whispered into that stillness. Her voice trembled.
“I do like a challenge,” he said.
She slid her hand free from his and reached up to touch the scar above his eye. The skin was velvet smooth beneath her finger. It was a brief but heady moment. When he stepped away, her fingertips seemed to tingle, protesting the absence of him. Evelyn ducked away from him and turned to face the window. Her heart was racing.
“Do not marry Lord Ashwood,” The Duke said.
She faced him, arms crossed over her chest as if it would provide armor against his advances.
“And why should I not?”
He adjusted the cuffs of his shirt. “Because I have asked you not to; because he is so damnably old, and because your brother is a fool.”
“I must. We have no means,” she said softly.
“Not every man needs an heiress,” he said.
“Whatever do you mean?”
“Must you have an explanation for everything in your life?”
The pieces of the chessboard were in disarray. Dark and light wooden figures mingled and Evelyn itched to set them right, back onto their respective squares. She picked up the fallen white queen and sat her on her color.
“Yes. I like order, and certainty. I like having explanations,” she said softly, “And if you are planning on keeping company with me, Your Grace, you will need to accept that,” Evelyn said. “If you think I am one of your light skirts to jump at your whim, you are solely mistaken.” She felt the fire of embarrassment flush her face, but she didn’t look away.
The Duke grabbed the black king and queen from their prone positions and placed them with deliberate care onto their squares.
“If you think I would put up with such sass from a light skirt,” The Duke said, with a smile for her alone. “You are sorely mistaken.”
When he looked at her like that she could not still her swiftly beating heart.
“Shall we play?” he asked gesturing to the board.
“Yes. I would like that,” she said meeting his eyes.
~.~
~Part 2 ~
Promise Me Daring
Chapter One
Diadem leapt the fallen tree with ease. The solid, hip high obstruction was no trouble at all for the willing mare. Evelyn reined her up on the far side of the log and leaned down to give the mare’s neck a pat. Summer was drawing to an end and the days were cooler with the promise of autumn. For Lady Evelyn Evering, it could not come soon enough.
The beginning of autumn marked the start of the hunting season and the start of Diadem’s real training. While the mare had recovered from the nail in her hoof, she would never be racing fit again. It had been a devastating realization, but Evelyn refused to wallow in self-pity and had set herself the t
ask of training Diadem into a quality fox hunter.
The mare had taken to it at once. She had shown no fear in the forest, even alone. Some horses would spook and fret over every little noise in the underbrush and those horses had no potential for hunting, when the pace was fast a startled horse could throw a rider. Evelyn loosened the reins. Diadem dropped her head and made her own way down the trail, picking her hooves up over the gnarled roots. It had been too long since Evelyn had ridden through the forest that blanketed the outskirts of the Evermont acreage. Once The Duke of Pemberton, had returned to his own estate, she found herself with far too much free time.
She thought of The Duke often. She and George Pender had shared only one embrace-- only one brief moment in the gaming parlor. If he had told Frederic of it, her brother had not reacted in any visible manner. No, her brother, the self-important Marquess of Evermont was just as awful as ever.
“Shall we head home, girl?” Evelyn asked of the mare, who flicked one ear back in interest. “It will be dark soon.” Evelyn cast about her eyes searching the nearby tress, but she appeared to have left her groom somewhat behind. It was just as well. Patrick was fearful of her jumping Diadem. Saying it was far too dangerous for a lady, and side saddles were not safe for such things. But Lady Evelyn had been riding since she was a small girl; she knew how to hold her seat.
Evelyn turned Diadem around. She was in no hurry to be home but did not want to be caught out after the sun set. They took a circuitous route around a log. Diadem’s leg was prone to swelling if pushed too hard, and she wanted the mare to be ready for a lawn meet in the upcoming weeks – If Frederic agreed to it. He might she thought, if The Duke was on her side about it. Pemberton held far more sway over her brother’s decisions than she ever had. Would Frederic invite the actress he was courting? Adele was her name, a French woman. Now that would cause a scandal. Knowing Frederic and The Duke, the scandal would be half the reason she would be invited. The men found the ruffling of polite society’s feathers an amusing spectacle.
The Duke’s Wicked Wager - Lady Evelyn Evering: A Regency Romance Novel (Heart of a Gentleman Book 2) Page 4