The Duke’s Wicked Wager - Lady Evelyn Evering: A Regency Romance Novel (Heart of a Gentleman Book 2)

by Isabella Thorne

  She was immersed in a game of whist, with Lord Ashwood as her partner and Frederic and Lady Comerford as their opponents. Dinner had been a success, to Evelyn’s surprise. The unusual assortment of guests managed small talk and Adele had been charming and refined.

  “I think we have this one,” Lady Comerford said to Frederic, sotto voce.

  Frederic raised dubious eyebrows. They were behind by two points, and Evelyn’s team had only one to go. Evelyn tapped her finger on the back of her hand of cards, signaling to Lord Ashwood. He played his trump card.

  “That is seven,” Lord Ashwood said. Evelyn cheered.

  Frederic tossed his cards down with a groan. “That is it for me. I cannot lose another round.”

  “Oh you spoilsport,” Lady Comerford groused.

  Lord Ashwood then proposed a game of billiards, which Frederic agreed to. He would never refuse a game he could win. Lady Comerford opted to watch, while Evelyn excused herself under the pretense of visiting the kitchens. It was there she ran into The Duke at last.

  She spotted a familiar tousled pile of hair and a rumpled coat from the back, but he was not alone. Evelyn’s stomach churned with acid. Never had jealousy struck her with such force. Turning from the scene with a gasp, she fled. Was it a servant girl? Tears dripped down her nose before she realized she was crying. Her vision fogged from tears and she did not notice the person until she smacked into them with a heavy thud.

  “Mon dieu!”

  “I am s-so sorry,” Evelyn gasped out between hyperventilation. “Did I hurt you? I was not paying attention.”

  Adele rubbed at the red bruise forming on her forehead in the shape of Evelyn’s shoulder.

  “It will be fine,” she said. “But what is this? What has upset you so?”

  The petite Frenchwoman took Evelyn in hand and drew her into the sitting room. She rang for a servant and ordered a tray of tea with a touch of brandy, as comfortably as if she lived there. Then she sat beside Evelyn on the chaise and pulled her into a hug until Evelyn stopped crying. With a flourish, Adele presented Evelyn with a lacy handkerchief and a cup of the spiked tea. She took both gratefully.

  “It is nothing,” Evelyn said, when she could breathe again. She could not divulge her secrets, and The Duke’s, to a total stranger.

  Adele snorted. It was inelegant and unladylike and warmed Evelyn toward the woman immediately. “I am an actress, ma chére. You cannot lie to me, for I do it with more skill.”

  She tipped a bit more brandy into Evelyn’s teacup. It smelled more of brandy than tea now.

  “Tell me,” Adele insisted.

  Evelyn did. She held nothing back, telling the woman everything starting with her fiancé’s death to her stolen and illicit embrace with The Duke. It was cathartic, but once it was spilled out she realized she could not take it back. She looked up to see the woman’s reaction. Adele took a sip straight from the brandy bottle. Then she set it down on the tray, crossed her hands in her lap, and looked at Evelyn.

  “You have been through too much to be putting your heart in the hands of a man like The Duke of Pemberton.” Evelyn bristled. “No, do not argue.”

  She shut her mouth.

  “He is a kind and amusing man, but he is not ready for marriage My Lady,” said Adele. “Do not give your heart to a man who has no idea what to do with it once it is his.”

  Her words were far too close to the truth Evelyn’s soul already knew. It was time to set aside The Duke and save herself any more heartache. At least she had found a friend in Adele.

  ~.~

  That evening, The Duke found her. After her tea with Adele, Evelyn walked to the stables, ostensibly to check on Diadem before the lawn meet in the morning. Being close to the warm live creatures settled her and the scents of the clean stable were a comfort.

  “Beautiful girl.”

  Evelyn’s heart gave a traitorous thump when she heard his voice in the aisle. Did it not know how awful this man was for it? Foolish heart. There was nowhere to hide unless she fled for Stanton’s office and barricaded herself inside. Diadem snuffed a nervous breath through her nostrils as if she picked up on Evelyn’s anxiety.

  The Duke turned following the attention of the horse. “Lady Evelyn,” he said. He was far too handsome as always.

  “Your Grace,” Evelyn replied.

  There was no one else in the aisle. Not a groom to save her.

  “You have been avoiding me.” The Duke tapped his fingers along the top of Diadem’s stall door, and Diadem coaxed him for treats. Had he been feeding her?

  “I have seen less of you now that I am a guest at your house than when I visit. It is most unfair.”

  “I am not avoiding you,” Evelyn lied. If he could pretend to care for her, she could pretend not to care for him. “I have been busy. As the hostess, I have many guests to attend to.”

  “Do you remember when I recommend that you never play at cards? Your bluffing face has not improved in the least since then. You are lying to me.”

  “And what if I am?” Evelyn said. “I cannot be seen having private encounters with you while I am hoping to find a husband. You will mark me spoiled.”

  “You are too concerned over your reputation,” The Duke said.

  Evelyn narrowed her eyes at him. “It is a simple thing for you to say, Your Grace. You are a man and a Duke besides; your reputation is a less fragile thing than mine. If you cared for me at all, you would leave me be.”

  The Duke’s face tightened with traces of pain. She hoped, for a fleeting moment, he would announce his intention toward her. When he did not, she pushed past him and fled the stables. Evelyn was tired of running from the man.

  ~.~

  Chapter Five

  Evelyn woke before the sun. She hoped to be down for breakfast before even The Duke was awake, and at the stable with time to spare. Her riding habit, a sturdy teal affair, was tied up for walking. The house was still abed. Only servants moved with quiet footsteps and hushed words, lighting the fires and preparing for the day to come. She slipped past them down the stairs and into the breakfast parlor, where Bess had seen her coffee was ready. The strong bitter drink was just the thing before a hunt.

  The dining room was empty. The curtains had not yet been pulled back but a fire was stirring in the hearth, beginning to creep up the logs with hungry licks of flame. She could not eat, for food never settled in her stomach on hunt days. Just as she drained the last of her coffee, The Duke entered. Evelyn’s fingers shook as she set the cup down onto its saucer.

  “Lady Evelyn,” he said, but she was already standing and pushing past him through the door.

  He did not stop her. Stanton and the groom staff had likely been up for hours yet and they would not be surprised to see her there. Anticipation had spread to the horses. They passed shrill whinnies to each other and tossed their heads as they were lead from their stalls to be groomed. She let the excitement in the stables wash away the terrible knot of tension that had seized her stomach at the sight of The Duke this morning. The man caused nothing but trouble, just with his presence.

  She passed the next hour getting underfoot in the stable. Twice a groom had to coax a horse by her, so lost in thought was she that she stood in the middle of the aisle with her mind elsewhere. On The Duke, of course. Would he not put her out of her misery yet? If he could just tell her one way or the other if he had any intention toward her beyond a quick dalliance, she could act. It was the not knowing that killed her. If he had put her aside she could move on and give Lord Ashwood a fair chance. Marrying him would not be so awful, she thought, if only she did not still have her heart lent out to The Duke. Evelyn leaned against a stall door and sighed. The horse, curious about its new neighbor, rested its head on her shoulder and nibbled at her collar.

  It was not one of hers. She shied away realizing that it may be a mouthy stallion. The thick necked creature must be one of her guest’s and looked a proper hunting horse, all old-blooded bulk.

  “That is
The Duke’s horse,” Stanton said.

  Evelyn bolted away from the door. The stable master laughed and she rubbed a self-conscious hand over her neck.

  “Well I do not think it is contagious,” he said. “He is not so hot tempered as The Duke’s other horses. Still, he’s a proud one with more muscle than sense.”

  “All looks and no substance, like The Duke himself.”

  Stanton only raised his eyebrows at that. Of course, The Duke was his new employer.

  “Not long before the hunt now,” said Stanton changing the subject. “Will you be wanting to see to Diadem, My Lady?”

  She nodded. “Her first test! I do not expect us to be in the front of the field, with the old-hats here to show off, but I do hope we will keep up and not be left hill-topping.”

  “She is too quick for that. No, she may lose some time over the obstacles, or fussing about the noise, but I bet she will make it up through the fields and the flat of the paths.”

  “Of course we are not out there to show off. It is a training exercise and nothing more.”

  “But if The Duke happened to finish well behind you,” Stanton said with a knowing smirk, “it would not be such an awful thing, hmm?”

  “You are far too astute, Stanton. No, it would not be an awful thing at all.” She flashed an impish grin. “I was a fool to lose my head over the man.” As if it were not still lost.

  Riders had begun to file into the stables. The women were dressed in shades of blue and green, a light pallet to lend brightness to the grey fall day. Men walked in groups of twos and threes, placing bets on the outcome of the day. She did not see Frederic in the crowd. Maybe he had decided against taking part after all. Evelyn scuffed her boots on the stones and waited for a groom to bring Diadem to her. Amid the crowd of natural colors, a spot of vibrant red and brown demanded attention. Adele.

  The woman caught sight of Evelyn at the same moment and let out a delighted squeal, all five feet of her frame colliding with Evelyn in a violent sort of hug. Breathless, she stepped back.

  “It is too early, Evie!” Adele said, crinkling her nose in distaste. “Why must we be awake and about at such a hateful hour?”

  Despite the woman’s claims, she looked well-rested and lovely as ever.

  “Do you ride, Adele?” Evelyn asked, curious. She had never known an actress, and wondered if they kept a horse.

  “Some, yes,” she said. “Frederic said there would be a horse for me, though I do not see him here.”

  She looked around, standing on tiptoes to see over the hats and horses.

  “I would be surprised if he was,” said Evelyn, looking around as well. “He is terrified of horses.”

  “Is he?” asked Adele. She looked amused. “Oh I must tease him about that.”

  They were interrupted by the arrival of Diadem. She looked full of herself and splendid in the polished tack, graceful neck arching as she danced over the ground. Evelyn took the reins from the groom.

  “Please saddle Ella for Lady Adele,” Evelyn said to the groom, who dipped his head and scurried off.

  She waited for Adele’s horse to arrive before mounting Diadem. Ella was a sweet old thing, placid but not slow. The mare would take a command if the rider knew how to ask for it, and would be content to follow otherwise. If Frederic were attending, he might have ridden her, but she still did not see him. Riders gathered at the edge of the stable yard where the hunt master towered above on a monstrous chestnut. Somewhere nearby, the hound master had the dogs ready to go. She could hear their yelping barks rising in intensity.

  The groom returned several moments later with a fully saddled Ella. He held the mare’s head while another of his fellows assisted Evelyn and then Adele onto their mounts.

  “Well, I do not think I will be keeping up with you for long,” Adele said, bringing Bella alongside Diadem.

  “Ah, there is Frederic,” Evelyn said, catching sight of her brother at last. She waved to him and he waved back, with a smile she thought was more for Adele than herself.

  He was not pink and sweating for once. Perhaps the sickness had at last run its course. Evelyn glanced at Adele. The woman’s smile at the sight of her brother was so sincere; it could not be for show. No, the woman, for better or worse, did seem to care for her brother. Lord help her.

  “Sister,” Frederic said, with a small bow for her and Adele. “Miss Bouchard.” His smile was a private thing for Adele alone. They shared an intimate look in which a thousand things were spoken without words. Evelyn blushed and looked away.

  If she had doubted her brother’s feelings for the actress were anything more than infatuation, the last tendrils of skepticism were being swept away.

  “Will you ride, Frederic?” Evelyn asked.

  He was dressed to, but he paled at her words.

  “Oh please, Frederic!” Adele cheered. “Ride alongside me. I will be left in your sister’s dust the moment the horn is blown and I do not wish to be alone in the woods.”

  Frederic puffed up his chest. “How can I refuse?”

  Her brother flagged a groom down from across the yard and the man came running. Frederic hesitated so Evelyn chimed in. She could not truly leave her brother with old Peacock.

  “Perhaps Duchess? If she is not claimed,” Evelyn said.

  The groom chewed his lip. “I think she is not, Lady Evelyn. I shall return in a moment.”

  Frederic gave her a grateful look. In a moment of braveness he laid his hand on Ella’s neck. Some of the effect was lost when he flinched away from the questioning snuffle of the mare’s nose. Diadem jigged beneath Evelyn, feeding off her rider’s impatience. She let the mare have her head, putting some space between herself and the lovebirds. Then, she saw The Duke. He was leading the thick-bodied warmblood from the stable, looking as regal as his mount. The two were a fine pair. Full of themselves and with much reason to be. Diadem could have thrown her then and she would not have noticed, so fixed were her eyes on the man. As if he felt them, he looked up. Beneath the brim of his hat, his eyes met hers.

  His expression was unguarded, and the twist of pain behind it sent an ache to her heart. In a flash, that was gone, and his jovial look was back. He tipped his hat at her and swung into the saddle. The Duke pressed his heels against the horse’s flanks and guided it through the crowd, straight toward her with the unwavering intensity of a fish swimming upstream. Before he reached her, a horse bumped into Diadem.

  “Whoa!” Lord Ashwood blushed and tugged on his horse’s reins. The mare tossed her head and skittered sideways. “Good morning, Lady Evelyn. Eager to be off?”

  “Good morning, Lord Ashwood,” Evelyn replied. When she looked up again, The Duke was in conversation with Adele and Frederic, who had mounted Duchess. Had The Duke been coming towards her at all?

  Lord Ashwood was still speaking. She forced her attention back to the man. In his youth, he might have been attractive, but age had drawn him down in, soft flesh and he had indulged too much in food and drink for what had been muscle on a younger man had turned to a bulge around his middle. There was nothing about him that ignited passion within her. But he was safe. A sensible choice. Evelyn was always sensible; at least, she had been.

  “Oh, it looks as if we are about to begin,” Evelyn said, pointing to where the hound and hunt masters had come together. A trumpet blast called for the horses to gather.

  Lord Ashwood and Evelyn clucked their horses over to the group. It was chaos; dogs barking and horses dancing eager to be off. Breath billowed, and turned to fog in the crisp fall air. Evelyn breathed it in, loving every moment of it as she circled Diadem to steady her. Another blast of the trumpet and the hunt master was off, into the hills. The group followed at their leisure; until the fox was spotted there was no need for speed. She stayed close to Lord Ashwood. He was a capable and confident rider.

  The Duke of Pemberton was ahead, riding with a woman she did not know. Was it the one from the kitchens? Frederic and Adele had already fallen to the back of
the pack where they could ride at whatever pace suited them. Evelyn hoped Frederic would not embarrass himself by falling off.

  “I am so enjoying this visit to Evermont,” Lord Ashwood nearly yelled over the cacophony. “I do hope you will be a guest at my home, with your brother of course. In the wintertime, perhaps?”

  “Do you keep a stable, Lord Ashwood?” she asked. Diadem was acting up, shaking her head in defiance and half-rearing. She wanted to be moving. “Easy, girl. Easy.”

  “I do, I do,” said Lord Ashwood. “Though it is not half as impressive as Evermont’s, I am afraid. Your brother tells me you are a master horsewoman and are responsible entirely for the success. During your time at my estate you might lend me some of that expertise.”

  Evelyn’s heart did leap at that. She could scarcely believe that Frederic had spoken so well of her. Maybe he was just eager to be rid of her.

  “I would enjoy that,” she said, and realized it was the truth. It would not be so dreadful to marry this man. Diadem’s danced again, hooves flashing.

  “Lady Evelyn!” Lord Ashwood pulled his horse up.

  Diadem dropped her front feet onto the ground with a thud. Evelyn circled the mare, giving her something to do with her mind other than work herself up.

  “Please go on ahead. Diadem is fresh to the hunt and she only needs a bit of space to calm herself.”

  He nodded and kicked his horse up into the main pack. Evelyn, focused on working Diadem through bending exercises, did not notice The Duke’s approach.

  “She is a handful today,” he said. He had reined his horse up a short distance away to watch. “Do you need to return to the stable?”

  “No, she will settle,” Evelyn said. “It is only all the noise getting to her. She hates to be still and wait.”

  “A horse after my own heart.”

  “Your riding companion will leave you behind if you dally, Your Grace,” said Evelyn. At last Diadem settled with a huff.

  The Duke shrugged. “I hardly know the woman. But what of Lord Ashwood?”

  It did not seem so dangerous to speak on horseback. He could not touch her there. They brought their horses side by side at a trot and headed toward the group.