by Gill, Tamara
Evie sat beside her mama, taking her hand to try to give comfort. The fact that the duke heard everything that her mama just said was mortifying enough than to make a scene about it. “You know I do not care about my circumstance in life. I shall get along well enough. Our concern now must be for Lucy.”
“You’re right,” her mama said, clasping her arm. “We must hope she marries and is happy.”
“What are you going to do about her actions?” the duke demanded, striding to stand before the fire and looking down at them all with displeasure. At some point, her father had also come into the room and sat on the settee aside them.
“We do not know where they have gone, Your Grace,” her father said, his voice weary. “Lucy will return home when she’s married, I believe. I see little point in chasing after her and making a scandal out of the situation.”
“She’s my betrothed. I suggest you ought to do a little more about it than that.”
Evie rubbed her mama’s back as the duke’s words brought forth another bout of hysterics. “We are sorry for your loss, Your Grace, but there is little we can do, save going after her. She could be anywhere by now. Had run off in any direction. I’m sure in time, your heart will heal, and you’ll marry again.”
“That is what we shall do. Go after your sister and inform her that she signed a contract to marry me, and she’ll damn well abide by it, or I’ll ruin your family even more than this escapade will.”
“I beg your pardon?” her father said, standing and going forehead to nose with the duke, who was much taller than her sire.
Evie sighed. If her father meant to intimidate the duke, it did not seem to be working, if his thin lips and unimpressed glare were any indication.
“Apologies, Mr. Milton, but you were there when the contracts were signed. Contracts that bestowed upon you a large sum of money to ensure the marriage took place within sixty days. That money is now due since your daughter has run off with another man. So, unless you have that thousand pounds in your desk to reimburse me for my trouble, I suggest you do as I ask and go after your offspring.”
“Father cannot travel far these days, Your Grace. His doctor has recommended he stay close to home,” Evie said, feeling as though she needed to defend her parents, who were innocent as the duke in all this. Not that Lucy had told her of her latest plan. She had no idea that her sister would take such drastic action to end her betrothal. She was supposed to tell the duke the truth, not elope with Mr. Brown.
Oh dear, this was all such a mess.
“He has a bad heart,” her mother said, hiccupping for effect.
The duke strode to the window, muttering under his breath before he turned, facing them all. His eyes were a little wild, and Evie shivered at the sight of him. When displeased, there was something oddly attractive about the man. He was much less refined, less the duke, and more the man.
A very delicious man who was once again free for the fairer sex to pursue.
He gestured toward Evie. “Your daughter will accompany me. To give Miss Lucy respectability when we return her home. They could not have gone far, and we shall return in a day or two.”
“Evie is not going anywhere with you, Your Grace,” her father said, his face going a little ruddy with his aggravation. Evie stood, going to him before leading him back to his chair.
“Sit, Father. You know the doctor said he did not want you to stress yourself in any way.”
“You cannot go off with a man in a carriage. You’ll be ruined, and then you’ll never marry.”
“I’ll take Mary with me, and you forget that I’m already known in London as a spinster, Father. The duke will ride a horse outside the carriage, will you not, Your Grace?” she said, looking to the duke for agreement. “All proprieties will be met, I promise, should you allow me to go, that is.”
Her father glanced at her mother a moment before his shoulders slumped, and he sighed. “Very well. You shall travel with the duke to fetch Lucy home. If you leave today, there is a chance you may catch them before nightfall.” Her father clasped her arm, holding her firm. “She must not marry Mr. Brown, my dear,” he whispered for her ears only. “I do not have the money to pay back the duke. Should Lucy marry Mr. Brown, it will ruin us financially, and we’ll lose our home.”
Evie sighed, her heart a little less full at her father’s troubles. However, not all was lost. They shared mutual friends. Perhaps the duke could be persuaded to offer that money as a loan and allow her father to repay him over time should Lucy get her way and marry before they caught up to her. Evie could ask this of him. He was their neighbor after all in Wiltshire.
She nodded. “I shall, Papa,” she whispered, before bidding them goodbye. She started for her room, needing to pack a valise and organize her maid Mary. There was much to do and very little time to do it in.
Chapter 5
The road toward London was arduous and lengthy, doubly so since she’d only just traveled it only two days before. Her maid sat across from her, her skin turning a darker shade of gray with each passing mile. It did not bode well for Mary being unwell so soon on the trip. They had many, many days ahead of them.
“Are you ill, Mary? You’re quiet and pale,” she asked, leaning forward to clasp Mary’s hand, shaking it a little when she didn’t respond. “Mary?”
The young woman leaned back against the squabs, taking a deep, calming breath. “Oh, Miss Milton, I feel so very poorly. I thought now that I’m one and twenty that my childhood traveling difficulty would have ceased to trouble me, but it has not.”
“You feel as if you may be sick?” Evie asked, slipping to the side of the carriage to lower the window a little. They were traveling in the duke’s carriage, a highly sprung, opulent equipage, and the last thing Evie wanted was to see Mary’s stomach contents all over the floor or silk cushions. She doubted the duke would be appreciative of the gift.
“I do, miss.” Mary curled forward, clasping her stomach. “Stop the carriage. Please, Miss Milton.”
Evie yelled out to the driver through the window, and within a moment, the carriage rocked to a halt. No sooner had Mary stepped one foot outside did she cast up her accounts, only just missing her boots, but not, however, missing the duke’s horse’s hooves.
The horse stared down at Mary with a look of disdain, if horses were capable of such things. Mary was oblivious to all of them, merely continued to heave copious amounts of fluid all over the ground. Evie glanced up at the duke and noted he, too, had an inpatient, disdainful scowl across his brow that matched his horse.
Evie jumped down from the vehicle, going over to Mary and rubbing her back, giving comfort in any way she could. Thankfully she’d stopped heaving and was merely taking deep breaths, trying to calm her stomach.
“Do you feel a little better?” she asked, standing up and taking stock of where they were. Through the trees ahead, Evie spotted what looked like the start of their next town, Hungerford. On her way from London, they would typically change horses here, but they had not been traveling long from Marlborough. She supposed they could stop for luncheon, even though it was a little early for that.
“We shall walk into Hungerford. It is not far, and I think it’s best that Mary doesn’t get back into the carriage just yet. We could break our fast, which may help her unsettled stomach. Do you not agree, Your Grace?” she asked, catching his gaze.
His lips thinned, but he relented and nodded. “I agree. I shall ride ahead and order lunch for us all. Charlie,” the duke said to the footman who sat at the back of the carriage, “walk with Miss Milton and Miss Mary to the Bear Inn. I shall meet you all there.”
Evie helped Mary to walk toward the inn, and the closer they became to the town, the more the color appeared in Mary’s cheeks. Her demeanor improved. Her eyes brightened, all good signs that a walk was just the thing to make Mary feel better. “I do believe the carriage was what made you unwell, Mary. We shall have lunch, and with any optimism, you’ll be well enough to continue this
afternoon toward London.”
“I think I shall be well, Miss Milton. I’m so very sorry for being such an inconvenience. I thought my sickness whenever I traveled was past me. It seems it is not.”
“No, and we didn’t have time this morning to have a hearty breakfast before we left, so that may not have helped you at all, either.” Evie spied the whitewashed inn in the bustling market town and started toward its front door. It was a large, coaching inn, many people bustled about it, and all of them looking very busy with their employment. A pretty bow window ran from the first to the second floor and made her think of Whites in London and its famous bow window.
The duke, who must have been watching them from indoors, stepped outside and into the sunshine, and a little flutter of pleasure settled in her stomach.
He was such a handsome man. Her sister was either addled of mind or she indeed was in love with Mr. Brown to have thrown a duke over for a farmer. Evie could not see herself parting from the duke should he offer for her hand. Had he chosen her to be his bride, she would’ve made him fall in love with her, no matter how long that may have taken. The duke watched them walk toward the inn, and Evie shivered as his gaze took in her appearance, sliding over her like a caress. If he thought she had not noticed he was mistaken. There was little that she did not discern when it came to the duke.
Did he like what he saw? She supposed now that her sister had run off with another man, she no longer needed to worry about Lucy’s plea for Evie to steal him away and force him to end their betrothal. Evie could only hope that her sister was married by the time they caught up with them. The duke may be disappointed for a time, but surely his heart would heal. That’s if his heart was ever involved regarding her sister, and sometimes, the way he spoke and the way he looked at her, she could not help but doubt that was the case.
They came to stand before the duke, and he bowed, holding out his arm for Evie. “Miss Mary, you look much better already. Miss Milton, I have lunch served in the private parlor.”
The inn inside was as busy as it was on the outside. The taproom was full of tables and people taking repast. Some sat at the bar, eating and drinking and busy discussing all sorts of matters while they waited for the next stagecoach or change of horses.
Her maid stared as if she’d never seen such a sight before, and Evie pulled her to where the duke was leading them. He opened a door and gestured for them to enter. The private parlor was a bright, airy room that overlooked the pretty River Dun. The table was full of bread and cold meats, cheese, and a steaming pot of tea.
Evie’s mouth watered at the sight and she went forward, sitting down across from the window so she could watch the goings-on on the river. “This looks wonderful, Your Grace. Thank you for the delicious lunch.”
He sat across from her, filling his plate with a selection of what lay before them. “Of course. It is no trouble.”
Evie poured herself a cup of tea and sipping her dark brew, sighed in relief at having a cup. “How refreshing. I do not think I could survive without tea. Do you not agree, Mary?”
Mary giggled, and the duke smiled, cutting a large piece of cheese and placing it on his plate.
“I do not, Miss Milton.”
“We’re to travel to Reading next. It will be several hours in the carriage on rough, uneven roads I’m afraid. We will not make the next town until nightfall. Do you think you’ll be well enough to continue, Miss Mary?”
“I believe so, Your Grace. Now that I’m having something to eat, all will be well, I’m sure.”
It was not the case. Finn stood beside his horse, who grazed the grass at the side of the road while Miss Mary heaved up her luncheon for the third time in as many minutes. Not a mile up the road and the carriage stopped so the maid could be sick. It wasn’t to be borne, and it would not be able to continue. If he were to catch up to Miss Lucy Milton before she eloped with her preferred gentleman admirer, they had to travel swift and without issue.
He needed to marry Lucy. And he needed to marry her soon before he ran out of time and lost all his wealth to his cousin, bar his estate.
Impatience ate at him, and he sighed, his mind furiously working with what to do. “That’s it. This cannot continue. Miss Milton, you shall ride behind me on my horse until we reach Reading. Dickens and Charlie will escort Miss Mary back to Hungerford in the carriage and organize a private carriage to return her home to Marlborough. It is obvious that she will be unable to travel the full distance to London, nevertheless Gretna, should we need to go that far. I do apologize, Miss Milton, but we cannot dally any longer.”
“But I’ll be unchaperoned,” Miss Milton said, her eyes wide with scandal.
She would be, unfortunately, but there was little he could do about it. The maid could not travel with them. Her stomach was not built for long distances, obviously. “We will go as brother and sister until London, and from there, we will take an unmarked carriage north to stop curious eyes.
“Dickens,” he said, turning to his driver. “We shall wait for you in Reading.”
“Right ye are, Your Grace,” Dickens said, climbing back up onto the box.
“How long do you think we’ll be in Reading? What if we run into someone we know? I’ll be ruined.”
“It is a risk we must take to bring back your sister. I’m sorry, but my mind is made up.”
Miss Milton’s lush mouth thinned into a displeased line before she turned to Mary, taking her maid’s hands. She was very kind to her lady’s maid, talking to her more as an equal than a woman who was her servant. As a duke, he’d never much thought about the people who worked for him, so long as they went about their duties and acted acceptably due to their position in a ducal household. He was always fair and kind, but not friendly. It was a novel thing to see.
“What are your thoughts, Mary? Are you happy with this plan?”
Mary nodded, her hair falling out of her many pins after a day of casting up her accounts. “I cannot continue, Miss Milton. I’m so very sorry to do this to you.”
Miss Milton helped Mary back toward the carriage, her hand idly rubbing the maid’s back in comfort. “It’ll be well, Mary. I just hope that the ride back home is not too taxing for you.”
“As do I,” Mary said, stepping up in the equipage. “Thank you, Miss Milton. Your Grace,” the maid said, before leaning back on the squabs and closing her eyes.
“Ensure Miss Mary is safely stowed on a private carriage back to Miss Milton’s estate. Pay handsomely that should she need to stop, that the driver does so whenever required. We shall meet you at Reading tomorrow.”
“Very good, Your Grace,” the driver said, clicking the reins to turn the equipage about, before they started back down the road they’d just traveled.
“Come, Miss Milton,” Finn said, holding out his hand to help her up onto his horse. She cast him a glance, taking in his horse, and her eyes widened. No doubt the idea of riding his high beast and traveling all the way to Reading the least of her desires.
She turned and waved the carriage away and then did as he bade, striding over to him and holding out her hand for him to clasp.
The moment he wrapped his fingers about her own, heat crept up his arm and into his chest. He heaved her onto his horse, wrapping her hands about his stomach and securing them before him. It was not necessary that she hold him so tight, but against his better judgment, he helped her to. She leaned into his back, hugging him tight and the feel of her legs, her arms wrapped about him, made his mind seize with notions. Other imaginings of them together, wrapped close and tight.
He closed his eyes, steeling himself for the long-spun afternoon ride to Reading. Without further ado, he turned his mount and kicked it into a canter, needing to distract himself from the woman behind him. Finn soon realized his mistake of placing Evie behind him. She undulated against his back with every step, and he now knew the feel of her breasts. Soft and full and not his to touch.
He was marrying someone else, he reminded himse
lf. The woman behind him was his betrothed’s sister. She was prohibited to him.
The hours loomed ahead of him. Hours of torture mixed with pleasure.
He would not survive it, of that he was certain.
Chapter 6
Evie’s bottom had gone numb hours before, and she was no longer aware of her legs. They too ached, and with every step of the horse’s hooves, she cringed, wanting to get off the beast and never, ever to get on another one.
To ride so many hours when one was not used to the exercise was not to be borne. An outing around Hyde Park was one thing, but miles on the back of a horse, over uneven, slippery, and sometimes rocky terrain was quite another. She would be thankful for the carriage again tomorrow, and not only because her bottom would thank her for it. She questioned she could last another day seated behind the Duke of Carlisle without her hands doing something uncomely, like caress his chest.
She glanced over his shoulder, her eyes moving to take in his profile. For all the pain her bottom was currently experiencing, her body suffered nothing but pleasure. One that the duke wrought within her.
He was so very fetching. His straight nose and chiseled jaw and sweet-looking lips left her breathless and aching and not just her behind. The idea that should her sister’s plan to marry another be thwarted and the duke became her brother in law, Evie knew she would have to limit her time with her sibling from the day of their marriage.
There was something about the duke that she liked, and deep down, wanted for herself. Silly of her, really, as she’d never thought too much about him when they were in London and circulating within the same set of friends. But now, out in the country and headed toward London, there was little else to imagine. It was all she thought about.
Evie flexed her hands, feeling the hard, muscular lines beneath her fingers before clasping them together to stop her inappropriate caress. He stilled at her touch, something he’d done often during the trip north. Her breasts felt heavy in her traveling gown; her nipples hardened points from slipping against his back. For a time, she’d leaned her head against his spine, merely trying to grapple with the pleasures she was taking from the duke while she could.