A Most Inconvenient Love

by Jillian Eaton

  “I know that. Mother and I have had many disagreements on the matter.”

  And yet here you sit, Evie thought in disgust, looking for all the world like a little boy who has been told he will have his hands slapped if he plays with the toy he wants.

  Was this really what she wanted? To marry a grown man who could not summon the courage to stand up to his own mother?

  No.

  No it wasn’t what she wanted.

  But it was what she needed.

  Lord Reinhold was her last chance at escaping from under her mother’s thumb. Whereas men, particularly titled gentleman, could easily support themselves through their inheritance, women were not so lucky. The only money Evie had was in the form of her dowry. A dowry that belonged exclusively to her future husband. If she did not marry she would never have the means to support herself. Oh, she could always become some wealthy lord’s mistress. But if she did that then she would have to give up her friends for they would never be allowed to associate with a woman of her reputation. Evie swept an agitated hand through her hair. By devoting all of her time to Lord Reinhold, she had boxed herself into a corner. If they suddenly ended their courtship there would be whispers and none of them kind. Women would wonder what she had done to lose him while men would assume the worst of her. It would be weeks – mayhap even months – before she could show her face in polite society again.

  “Lord Reinhold I must admit I fail to see why your mother would be opposed to us marrying,” she said bluntly as the last of her patience evaporated into thin air. “Particularly since you have been courting me for nearly a year. Were your intentions never honorable?”

  The earl had the gall to look hurt as though he were the wounded party. “How could you suggest such a thing? My intentions have always been honorable where you are concerned, Lady Genevieve. I hold you in very high regard.”

  “But your mother does not,” she said with a pointed stare.

  “She simply wants what is best for me.”

  “Am I not what is best for you? You cannot deny we are well suited for one another, Lord Reinhold.”

  “I know we are. But Lady Genevieve, sometimes I feel...”

  “You feel?” she prompted when he fell silent.

  “Sometimes I feel as though you do not care for me at all.”

  His honest admission brought a dull flush to Evie’s cheeks and a sinking sensation to the pit of her stomach. She did care for Reinhold in her own way. He may not have been the man she would have picked for herself when she was young and idealistic, but those days were far behind her now. “That is not true. I have come to care for you a great deal.”

  Lifting his head, the earl studied her intently. “As a wife cares for a husband?”

  Her mouth opened. Closed. An easy lie dangled on the tip of her tongue, but a rare fit of conscience kept her from saying it out loud. “No,” she said finally. “If you are asking if I have fallen in love with you, my answer is no. But I respect you, Lord Reinhold, and I value the friendship we have created and I know that we could have a good life together.”

  He mused over her response. “And children? I do not intend to have a marriage in name only.”

  “Neither do I.” While the prospect of sleeping with Lord Reinhold appealed to her as much as watching paint peel from the walls, Evie knew what duties awaited her as the future Countess of Reinhold. In exchange for a household to manage and servants to call her own and an allowance with which to spend she would be expected to perform her wifely duties without complaint, principle among them the conception of an heir and – God willing – a spare.

  Sliding off the edge of the armrest, she knelt beside Reinhold’s chair and took his hand. Giving it a firm squeeze she said, “Love is a fallacy best kept between the pages of fairy tales and Jane Austen novels. It has no place in a marriage.”

  The earl frowned down at her. “Do you truly believe that?”

  For some inexplicable reason, the stranger from Drury Lane flashed before her eyes. Her grip on Reinhold’s hand tightened. This was not the time to be thinking of other men! No matter how handsome or infuriating they were. She needed her sole focus to be on the task at hand. Her very future depended on it. “Yes,” she said firmly. “I do. I have a dear friend who married for love, my lord, and she is all the more miserable for it. It is far better, I think, to enter a holy union with a clear head instead of a clouded heart.”

  “I suppose you are right,” the earl conceded. “A marriage between two like-minded people with common interests would be the most practical thing to do.”

  “Yes, very practical.” But if that were really the case, why did she suddenly feel as though she was making a grave mistake? Ignoring the tingle of trepidation in the back of her throat, Evie plastered a smile on her face and stood up in a swirl of violet skirts. “Has it been decided then, Lord Reinhold?”

  Standing as well, he stared deep into her eyes. “Lady Genevieve Longacre, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

  Yes.

  That was what Evie wanted to say. Instead she hesitated. Only for a second, but it was enough to raise a flicker of doubt in Reinhold’s brown eyes.

  “Lady Genevieve?” he said uncertainly. “Was my question unclear?”

  “No, no, it was very clear. I – I am merely savoring the moment.” Smile, she ordered herself. This is what you wanted, you ninny! A wealthy husband who will take care of you. Smile and kiss his cheek. Do it! Ignoring the faint ache in the corners of her mouth, Evie did precisely that. “Yes,” she murmured against Reinhold’s freshly shaven jaw. “I will marry you.”

  When Reinhold left an hour later after belatedly asking Evie’s father for his permission – thankfully he was quite agreeable – Evie watched his departure from the window in the front parlor. At long last, she was finally on the precipice of getting everything she desired. But if that was really true, why did she feel so utterly miserable?

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “I cannot believe you are finally getting married!” Clapping her hand together in excitement, Rosalind beamed at Evie over the tips of her gloves. It was three days after Reinhold’s proposal, and Evie had invited her friends for a brisk walk through Hyde Park to discuss wedding plans. “Have you set a date yet? Will it be this summer? Oh, I do love a good summer wedding. Unless it is too hot.” Her nose wrinkled. “Then everything becomes rather sticky.”

  “It certainly does,” Merry agreed. “Remember last summer? It was too hot to go outside and too hot to stay in!”

  Glancing askance at both of her friends, Evie told herself not to take too much meaning from Rosalind’s emphasis on the word ‘finally’. Lord Peabody’s doe-eyed, blonde haired wife was as charmingly obtuse as she was beautiful and she never meant any offense. In all the years Evie had known Rosalind – which was quite a few, given they’d met at a private seminary when they were little more than girls – she had never witnessed her delivering a true insult. More often than not the blonde’s head was so far up in the clouds her feet were all but dancing on air.

  “We have not set a date yet,” she told them. “But we are thinking sooner rather than later.”

  “Do you want to be wed in the town or the country?” This question came from Nicola, the most practical-minded of their little quartet. With her glossy dark hair and deep blue eyes Nicola was the quintessential English rose. The daughter of a well-to-do viscount, she led a charmed life and would be celebrating her third wedding anniversary next month. By all outward appearances Nicola and her husband, the Earl of Berkshire, were very happy together. But Evie knew better than most that outward appearances were not always what they seemed.

  “I do not know,” Evie said absently as her gaze was distracted by a fluttering blue bird. Chirping a merry tune it hopped from branch to branch, its black eyes darting left and right as it searched for berries. What would it be like, she wondered, to be as free as a bird? What she wouldn’t give to be able to spread her wings and leave her problems
behind. She’d thought becoming engaged to Lord Reinhold would solve everything and in some ways it had, but no matter how hard she tried she couldn’t shake the heavy feeling of wrongness. It followed her day and night, infiltrating her dreams and turning them to nightmares.

  Nicole gave her a sharp glance. “You do not seem to know very much.”

  Evie’s shoulders stiffened. Did Nicola suspect something was amiss? As the brunette hid her true emotions just as expertly as Evie did, there was no way to know for sure. “We have not had time to discuss it.”

  “Of course you haven’t!” Blissfully unaware of the sudden tension thickening the air around her, Rosalind spun in a dreamy circle that sent her skirts flying up around her knees and revealed the crisp white stockings and lacy petticoat she wore beneath. “You’ve only just become engaged. It’s all still so romantic! I say enjoy the moment while it lasts.”

  Which was precisely what Evie would have been doing...if she felt anything but a vague fondness for her husband-to-be. You are not doing anything wrong, she assured herself for the umpteenth time since she’d more or less coerced Lord Reinhold into asking for her hand in marriage. You are not in love, but what’s the harm in that? There is no law that says a wife must love her husband. Affection will come in time.

  Or so she hoped as the last thing she wanted was to turn into her mother: bitter, hard, and angry at the world for the poor choices she had made.

  “Well I for one believe an autumn wedding would suit you best,” Merry chimed in. “Just think of how the leaves will compliment your hair.”

  Rosalind frowned. “Evie’s hair isn’t green.”

  “I know that. But come September and October the leaves will turn to red and orange and gold.”

  “Yes, that would be much better.”

  “If you’d like and Lord Reinhold is agreeable you could have the reception at our estate,” Merry suggested with a tentative smile.

  “Lord Reinhold has his own estate,” Evie said curtly. Far more curtly than she had intended. With her thoughts rioting all over the place, it was hard to keep her emotions – most noticeably her temper – in check. Stuffing her hands into the shallow pockets of her pelisse, she clenched her teeth together and quickened her pace. After exchanging startled glances Merry, Nicola, and Rosalind hastened to catch up.

  “Yes of course he does,” Merry said hurriedly as she came up on Evie’s right side while Nicola and Rosalind flanked her on the left. “I would never imply – oh my.”

  “What?” Noting Merry’s attention had suddenly become fixated on something in the distant, Evie slowed her step. “What is it?”

  “That man there.” She pointed unabashedly at a man dressed in black standing beside a bench several yards away. “Evie, isn’t he the one who asked you for directions the other day?”

  So it was. Even from this distance there was no mistaking the stranger’s lean build nor the shock of black hair that stuck out beneath his cap. If he was closer she would have been able to see the bright blue of his eyes and the arrogant curl of his lips.

  Ignoring the sudden quiver of awareness that passed through her body with all the subtlety of a lightning bolt, she stopped so abruptly a rock was kicked up from underneath her shoe and struck Rosalind’s skirts, staining them with a smear of mud.

  “Sorry,” she said distractedly, her gaze pinned on the only man who had ever made her pulse race and her heart pound. How often had she thought of him since their impromptu meeting? More times than she would ever care to admit. In the year that she’d come to know Reinhold he had never made her feel what the handsome stranger had in less time than it took to complete a quality cross stitch.

  “No matter,” the blonde said with an absent shrug. “It is only a dress.”

  “Did you ever find out what his name is?” Merry asked. “You never said.”

  “No,” Evie murmured. “I don’t know what his name is.”

  “You should go ask,” Nicola suggested with a rather firm shove to the small of Evie’s back. “We will wait here for you.”

  “Go ask?” she repeated blankly. “Why in the world would I do such a thing?” She needed to stay away from the rakish stranger, not find out more about him!

  Nicola lifted a perfectly arched brow. “Because you have never stared at your fiancé the way you are staring at that man.”

  “I am certain I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about.”

  “Go.”

  Evie’s eyes narrowed. “You cannot order me about. I will not–”

  “Go.” This time Nicola pushed Evie hard enough to cause her to stumble. By the time she’d righted herself her three friend had closed ranks and were standing shoulder to shoulder, effectively blocking the path and Evie’s only route of escape.

  “Well then.” Glaring, she backed up a step. “Is this how it is to be?”

  “It is only a name,” Merry said gently. “What harm can come from that?”

  A lot, Evie wanted to cry. For it wasn’t just a name. It was a possibility. A possibility of opening herself up to feelings she had no right to feel. She drew back her shoulders and lifted her chin. “Fine,” she spat. “I will go ask what his damn name is but once I do I never what to hear of him again. Do you understand? Never.”

  “Not quite,” Nicola said, “but I think I am beginning to.”

  “I hate you all,” Evie decided before she spun around and marched towards the bench with all the grim-faced determination of a prisoner facing the guillotine.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Aiden watched the redhead from Drury Lane approach him with a smirk already firmly in place. He had sensed her the moment she had come around the bend in the path. Like a spark of electricity her sudden appearance had lit up his entire body from the soles of his feet all the way to the nape of his neck where fine wisps of hair still tingled.

  When they’d first met she had worn a blue pelisse with her auburn curls tucked up beneath a fancy hat. Today she wore another pelisse, this one pale green in color, and her hair was neatly secured beneath the ever popular capote bonnet. She looked flawless...and furious.

  Waiting until she had nearly reached him to acknowledge her presence, he greeted her with a cocky grin that went so far as to crinkle the corners of his eyes. “So we meet again. I suspected that we might.”

  “Did you?” she said disdainfully. “I was hoping to never see you again.”

  “And yet here you stand before me,” he pointed out.

  She muttered something under her breath he could not quite make out although it sounded suspiciously like ‘against my will’. Glancing over her shoulder he noted the three ladies standing just out of earshot. They were trying so hard to make it appear as though they weren’t watching every move he made it was rather obvious that was precisely what they were doing.

  “Friends of yours?” he asked with a nod towards the women.

  “Not at the moment,” she said cryptically. Tossing her head back, she regarded him with narrowed green eyes. “I have been sent to find out your name.”

  Had she, now? He was going to enjoy this.

  “Oh really,” Aiden drawled as he crossed his arms and rocked back on his heels. “And what makes you think I am going to give it to you?”

  She hissed between her teeth like a cat. “Please do not make this any more difficult than it already is. All I need is your name, and we can both go our separate ways.”

  “I recall asking you the same question not too long ago. What was it you said right after you promised to tell me your name if I let you go?” He scratched the back of his neck. “Oh, that’s right. ‘I never welch on a deal’. And yet if memory serves that is exactly what you did.”

  “I never specified when I would tell you.”

  “That you didn’t,” he agreed. “But as the saying goes, there’s no better time than the present.” Thoroughly enjoying making her squirm, he gave a hearty shout of laughter when she unexpectedly stuck out her tongue. The wench was every
bit as saucy as he remembered. And even more beautiful. In the dappled sunlight streaming down through the canopy of leaves her hair gleamed like copper and her eyes shone like two polished emeralds. In all of his years he had never seen her equal. She was absolutely breathtaking. “What will it be, Red?” he pressed when she remained stubbornly silent. “A little game of I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours?”

  “I really do not like you.”

  “The feeling is mutual.” Except it wasn’t for he did like her. Despite her prickly nature, he liked her a great deal. “Come on, Red. I haven’t got all day. What’s the harm in telling me your name?”

  “To begin with, you could use it to find out where I live and rob me blind.”

  “Back to common thievery, are we?” He clucked his disappointment. “What is it about me that leads you assume I’m a criminal?”

  She lifted a brow. “Everything.”

  “I may not be some rich nabob–”

  “That much is painfully apparent.”

  “–but I’m not a bloody thief and if I came to your house it wouldn’t be to steal the silver.” With a suggestive gleam in his eye he stepped towards her. She stepped back. He stepped towards her again, pinning her against the bench and using his body to block her friend’s view. With nowhere else to go she tilted her chin up as though taunting him to go even further. Were they not a public setting he would have been tempted to do just that, but he wasn’t about to start anything he couldn’t finish. That being said, what was the harm in a little teasing?

  “You smell like roses,” he said huskily, nostrils flaring as he leaned in close and inhaled her sweet scent. “Roses and something I can’t quite place. Something dark and deep and just a bit mysterious.”

  “And you smell like arrogance and poor decisions.”

  Aiden grinned. “Come now love, I’m not all that bad. I think you would like me if you got to know me.”

  Her lashes skimmed the tops of her cheeks as her gaze flicked down to his chest. “That is never going to happen. All I want to know is your name, and if you do not give it to me I shall simply make something up. You do have the look of a Francis about you.”