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

by Isabella Thorne

  “Evelyn, wait!” Adele called. She followed Evelyn as she left the hall, catching up with her on the front steps of Lord Ashwood’s manor.

  “I cannot bear a lecture now, Adele,” said Evelyn. “Please, do not tell me what I should have done, or what I should not have done. Do I have no say in my life at all? Frederic, you, The Duke! The only one who does not push or pull at me is Lord Ashwood.”

  Evelyn leaned against the stone abutment and crossed her arms over her chest. It was frigid. She should have brought her stole. Adele sat beside her and wrapped her arms around her shoulders, pulling her close.

  “I will not scold you, Evie,” she said. “I only want you to be happy.”

  “As long as it is not with The Duke,” Evelyn replied, miserable.

  Adele turned Evelyn’s head to face her.

  Nose to nose, she said, “If you could be happy with The Duke for more than a month or two, I would give you both my blessing.”

  “He seems to truly care for me.”

  “And I am sure those women thought he cared for them, or they would not have jumped in head first, would they? I believe even he thinks he cares. I do not think he is purposely cruel, just mercurial.”

  The women turned, hearing voices raised behind them. A crowd was flowing toward the open doors, Pemberton and Frederic at the head. Adele and Evelyn retreated to the side as The Duke charged down the steps.

  “Do not worry, Evermont,” he said, half-snarl. “It will sort itself, mark me.”

  Frederic, a matching expression of fury on his face, crossed his arms over his chest and watched The Duke yank his horse’s reins from a groom. He drove his heels into his horse’s sides, and vanished into the darkness. The crowd dispersed back inside, the women too cold to gawk if there was not going to be a scene worth watching.

  “What is the meaning of this, Evelyn?” Frederic rounded on her, spotting them lurking in the shadow of the house. “What have you done to spoil things this time?”

  Evelyn, outraged, opened her mouth to reply, but Adele elbowed her in the ribs.

  “Not here, Frederic, do you wish to cause even more of a scene? For heaven’s sake, let us go home first.”

  ~.~

  Chapter Five

  The women retrieved their shawls as Frederic called for the coach. It took far too long, standing in the cold, dark night for it arrive. They climbed inside in silence. Evelyn was already thinking of the letter she would need to write to Lord Ashwood, apologizing for the scene they had caused and for leaving before supper and for… well, The Duke. Though she did not think she should have to apologize for a grown man, there did not seem to be any way around it. Evelyn rubbed the silk of her dress between her fingers. It took on the temperature of the night and cooled her skin. She should never have worn it.

  Frederic and Adele were silent. The coach, filled only with their breathing, felt surreal and dreamlike, as if they were traveling from nowhere, to nowhere. When it pulled to a stop outside of Evermont, Adele lightly shook Evelyn awake. She had not noticed falling asleep, but her forehead was leaned against the window of the coach and her stole had fallen onto her lap. Evelyn blinked and climbed out. A wind flipped her dress around her leg and shook dead leaves from the trees.

  “Now will someone tell me what is going on?” Frederic demanded. He looked as exhausted as Evelyn felt, with purple bags beneath his eyes.

  Adele led them into the sitting room and called for tea. The hot beverage, with cream and sugar, brought some life back to Evelyn.

  “I do not know what there is to explain, Frederic,” said Adele. “Your friend is in love with your sister.”

  Frederic, whatever he had suspected, was taken off guard by this. He sputtered with his first sip of his tea and set the cup down on the tray.

  “Pemberton … in love…with Evelyn, you say.”

  Adele gave him a withering look. “You cannot be so blind as to not have seen it before now.”

  Evelyn watched the conversation from a distance. Seated beside the fire, she chafed her hands together and tried to pinpoint what had gone wrong and how she could have prevented it. There was no neat checklist to avoid a scandal, however, and even less of one to avoid falling in love with a man one should not.

  “Yes.” Adele stirred sugar into her tea with a petite silver spoon, then jabbed it in Frederic’s direction. “And he is causing quite a fuss about it. You need to stop him.”

  Frederic laughed. “And how do you propose I stop a Duke from doing what he pleases? He is my friend, but that only goes so far.”

  “He is your friend. Why do you think he should not marry me?” Evelyn asked. They turned to her in surprise, as if they had forgotten her in the corner.

  “Well…uh,” Frederic stammered.

  “I have told her,” said Adele.

  “Oh,” he said. “Well then, you know why, Evelyn. He is a fine friend, but not a suitable husband. He has no interest in settling down, and certainly not with a lady in such financial straits. Lord Ashwood is the perfect match for you, if we can manage to salvage it after this disastrous night. Pemberton has lost his head, and I will send a note off to him in the morning.”

  “I think that is wise,” Adele said. “How are you feeling, Evie? Did the night overtax you? You are pale. Up to bed with you.”

  Evelyn wanted to protest, but she could hardly keep her eyes open and the pain of her head injury had returned with a dull throb, as it always did when she had overdone it. Adele tugged Evelyn’s shawl tighter around her shoulders and escorted her to her bedroom, leaving her in Bess’s capable hands.

  ~.~

  The Duke did not visit. Evelyn had expected after her brother’s note the man would come to apologize in person, but there was neither letter nor visit from him in the following week. Lord Ashwood accepted her apology in a gracious letter, and had penned an invitation to dinner. The man was gracious and kind, to overlook her faults. Still, Evelyn could not drop the subject of Pemberton. How could the man live with himself, did his conscience not worry him to make amends for his behavior? She had needled at Frederic, pestering him to reveal what he had said to The Duke and begging leave to write to the man herself. He forbade her from doing so, of course. So she had turned to Adele.

  “Would one of your servants run a note to Pemberton?” Evelyn asked, trying for a casual tone, as if she did not care one way or the other.

  Adele looked up from her book, Les Liaisons Dangereuses. Evelyn had inquired earlier about the nature of the book, but Adele had blushed and slammed the cover closed, refusing to say a word about it.

  “Absolutely not,” she said. “Frederic would be livid.”

  “The things The Duke said the night of the ball, Adele. I would not have imagined him staying away,” said Evelyn. “He seemed desperate to have me understand him. And now nothing but silence? I am worried something has happened to him.”

  “Nonsense. He is fine. Like as not, Frederic’s letter may have knocked some sense into the man, and he has given up his foolish desire to acquire you. It is for the best. Now, it is almost three. Should you not be dressing for tea with Lord Ashwood?”

  Evelyn had forgotten their engagement. Lord Ashwood had requested Frederic’s permission to call upon Evelyn, in a formal beginning of their courtship. Frederic, without Evelyn’s consent, had accepted. It would have infuriated her once, but Evelyn was beginning to doubt the soundness of her judgment. Perhaps something had been rattled loose in her fall from Diadem. Lord Ashwood was a good man. She was lucky he had not given her the cut.

  “Yes, I suppose I should,” Evelyn said. “Will you dress with me?”

  “Of course, ma chére,” Adele said, tucking her book beneath her arm.

  “You can read to me from your book as I bathe,” said Evelyn with sparkling eyes.

  “Incorrigible brat, I will not!”

  “Is it very risqué?” Evelyn whispered with a giggle.

  “Stop it,” Adele said. “You shan’t think of such things; you
should think only of how to placate Lord Ashwood. Remember you are a proper lady.”

  And that was just the problem, Evelyn thought. Married to Lord Ashwood she would be a proper lady, but she would never have the excitement she dreamed of with The Duke. She had to let go of this fantasy. Nothing could come of it.

  ~.~

  ~Part 4 ~

  Promise Me Your Heart

  Chapter One

  The Lord Ashwood, unflappable man, had accepted Lady Evelyn Evering’s apology with a dignified nod and a smile. She was really beginning to like the man. He was so even-tempered and kind. He insisted the issue was a minor one, and urged Evelyn not to trouble herself further over it. If only she could. She was mortified by her behavior the evening of the ball, and his dignified forgiveness exacerbated her shame.

  “I was only disappointed you were forced to leave before dinner,” he said.

  They were seated in the breakfast parlor for a light snack and tea. Adele and Frederic, her chaperones, were seated on the far end of the room. Evelyn was certain that despite their apparent focus on a hand of cards that the two were eavesdropping to the best of their abilities.

  “Yes, I am sure it was a wonderful dinner. Your musicians were excellent and the dancing never lulled. Your sister is a formidable hostess.” Evelyn poured him a cup of tea and stirred in his preferred two lumps of sugar.

  “She is that.” Lord Ashwood accepted the cup with tip of his head. “I do not know how she will manage being usurped from that position when I marry.”

  “Oh, I believe any sister would be overjoyed to see her brother marry, for the two women should be swift friends!” Evelyn said, looking over at Adele. “And there is nothing better for one’s spirits than a true companion close at hand.” Strange how she and Adele had undeniably become fast friends.

  “Indeed,” Lord Ashwood agreed. “I have friends from my schooling days who are as close as ever. Old as we have gotten, we still manage to have a raucous time when we meet, if that is not as often as I would hope.”

  Intrigued by the thought of a young Lord Ashwood, Evelyn hazarded a bold question.

  “Lord Ashwood, why have you not married before now? The other day, you mentioned wishing to be young and in love, were you ever? In love, I mean, of course you were young. Not that you are old, no.”

  Evelyn’s cheeks heated. When had she become a tongue-tied chit? But Lord Ashwood did not tease her, nor seem offended by her question.

  “I had my share of calf-loves, yes. Even as a young buck I had far too reasonable a head on my shoulders to be carried off by amorous intent, and I think most women thought I lacked a daring sort of edge. Like the young Duke of Pemberton, now that is the sort of man I lost many a woman to – brash, indulgent, exciting.”

  Lord Ashwood’s wry smile brought a twinge of guilt to Evelyn’s heart. Here was a man aware of his flaws, accepting of them. There was something charming in that and she felt endeared toward him.

  He continued, “When I was past the point of having my head turned by any pair of pretty eyes, I settled into running the estate and the responsibilities of it all. When my sister’s husband passed, she took over the womanly roles in the house and we have had an easy sort of life since then, without want for anything.”

  “Why now, then?” she asked. “If things are settled, why change the routine by searching for a wife?”

  “My sister urged me to. She is not in the best of health, being even older than I am, and worries about what will become of me when she is gone. Busybody that she is.”

  “You have no reasons of your own for it?”

  “I confess, I had given up the idea entirely. I did not want to be married because some woman was told to, or because she needed my title or money. Now I see that there is hope for more than that, even at my age.”

  His look was fond and hopeful. It made her feel even more rotten for her conflicted feelings.

  “I look forward to seeing your stables the next time I visit your home,” said Evelyn. “If they come close to matching the beauty of the house, they will be a sight to see!”

  “Are you able to ride yet? Lord Evermont seemed to think you would not want to ever again. I told him that was a bit of wishful thinking on his part.”

  “Already you know me better than my own brother! I am eager to ride again, and as soon as the weather turns I will be out there, whether my brother wills it or no.”

  Frederic, in evidence of his eavesdropping, huffed.

  “I am glad to hear it. It would not seem right for you to lose such a large part of yourself. I can see you love the animals.” Lord Ashwood stood and buttoned his jacket. “I must be off if I am to make it home for dinner. I thank you, Lady Evelyn, for the pleasure of your company.”

  “My best wishes to Lady Lush,” said Evelyn, curtseying to him. “Stay dry, Lord Ashwood, and good evening!”

  He dipped his head in a short bow and Frederic escorted him to the door. Adele reached up to pat Evelyn’s shoulder.

  “That was not such a challenge, was it?” she asked Evelyn. “I believe he is more smitten with you than ever and your affection did not seem feigned.”

  “It is not feigned,” said Evelyn. She heard the front door open, the sudden noise of rain, then the thump of it closing again, muffling the sound.

  Frederic strode back in. He clapped his hands and rubbed his palms together. “He is already inquiring as to when he might see you again! I expect a spring wedding is in the works, my darling sister.”

  “Why are you so eager for my marriage, Frederic?” Evelyn pursed her lips. “Do you only want me out of this house so you may redecorate, or is there something else behind all of this?”

  “I am just looking out for my sister.” He held his hand to his chest, pretending to take offense. “Without our parents here, it is my duty to ensure you make a match before spinsterhood. How long before you are on the shelf, a year at most?”

  “I am not yet so decrepit!” Evelyn replied, but without venom.

  ~.~

  Chapter Two

  As if she had made it happen with wishing, the next day dawned with blue skies. Awake before the rest of the house, Evelyn dressed in her riding habit and went down for coffee.

  “Whose coach is that?” Evelyn asked the servant who had brought her the tray. The nutty aroma of coffee could not distract her from the view out the window. A coach pulled by two strong horses, was heading down the long drive toward the stable.

  The servant, a young kitchen boy, shifted from foot to foot. “I am not sure, Mi’lady.”

  “Are you… are you lying to me?” Evelyn asked, indignant.

  With a squeak, the boy ran from the room. Evelyn, flabbergasted by his cheek, only stared after his retreating form. At least the coffee was well brewed. She finished her cup as she grabbed up her fur stole, wrapped it around her shoulders, and stepped outside. The coach had long gone, but the tracks in the mud were deep and led to the stables. Dodging puddles, Evelyn made her way down the path, grateful for the fur and the warmth of her drink. Frost edged the puddles.

  It had been so long since she had gone out to the stables, she felt anxious looking up at them, as if she had lost her place there. That was silly. She belonged there. The coach, pulled by two matched greys, waited in front of the courtyard. A coachman tended to them, but she slipped by without asking after the owner. She had a hunch.

  Evelyn heard Stanton in chipper conversation. Not wanting to be spotted yet, she ducked down beneath the stall walls and crept toward the men. Peeking up over the wood rail, she saw The Duke. Well, the back of him. He was leaning on the wall with one hand, the other on his hip, as Stanton gestured with a piece of tack. She did not know how the back of a man could be handsome, but Pemberton managed it. When she saw him, the affection she felt for Lord Ashwood seemed such a small, insignificant thing in the wake of her feelings for The Duke.

  Stanton spotted her. She ducked her head down, but it was too late. Evelyn shook her head, frantic, but
the stable master had already called her name.

  “Lady Evelyn, is that you?” he asked, his arm dropping to his side.

  The Duke turned. Evelyn stood and tried not to look guilty. His face tightened, a muscle twitching on his jawline.

  “I thought I might visit, since I have not been to the stables since my fall,” she said, voice meek. “Is this a bad time, Stanton?”

  “Not at all, I am sure the horses will be happy to see you. Diadem insists I do not feed her enough apples, but she is getting fat with laziness,” said Stanton.

  “Will you be riding today? Should I have her saddled, My Lady?”

  The thought brought a mix of wariness and excitement to her. She felt, for the first time, a splotch of fear marring her enthusiasm for riding. It was a nasty thing which she refused to acknowledge, for doing so might make it permanent and that she could not abide.

  “Yes, please,” she told Stanton, before she could change her mind.

  The Duke had not said a word, only stared at her as if she were an unpleasant apparition he could will away by glaring. With Stanton’s departure, it seemed impossible to keep the space between them. In a rush, they both stepped forward, coming within a foot of each other.

  “You did not write, nor visit,” Evelyn said. “Will you always do this? Insist on being close to me, then pulling back farther than before? It is cruel.”

  “It is not as I planned it,” The Duke said, looking down at her, eyes narrowed over his crooked nose. “Lord Evermont forbids me from entering the manor, and from contacting you. Your brother thinks I have far overstepped myself as it is, and worried that I had ruined your chances with Lord Ashwood.”

  “Frederic did what!” Evelyn fumed. How dare he leave her to fret over The Duke, while all along knowing just exactly why she had not seen hide nor hair of him. And Adele had lied to her as well! Oh, she would have it out with them when returned to the house. “How dare he! But you have never listened to him before, have you?”