by Gill, Tamara
“Because you’re my age. I’m a duke. I require a wife who will give me an heir. I feared that your age would be an impediment to this.”
Evie felt her mouth pop open at his words, and for a moment, she was unable to respond. She was too old? There was no mistake that she was older than Lucy, a few good years in fact, but she was not yet eight and twenty. Women older than her were still having children. Why Ava had a child only last year, and she was two years older than Evie. What had he been thinking?
“So why offer for me if during this whole time I was too much of a crone for your exacting standards.”
The duke looked up from his chair, understanding dawning on his face. He stood and came over to her, reaching for her hands. Evie stepped out of his reach, wanting to know the truth. All of it, even if it were as ugly as her sister’s actions from earlier today.
“You know I care for you, Evie. We’ve been intimate. It would be wrong of me not to offer for you.”
“But you cannot now, can you? You’re already betrothed to my sister and now that she will be ruined should you not marry her, create a scandal which you loathe to endure, I am left alone. Left looking like the biggest fool in history, but I shall survive,” she said, rallying herself not to cry. “I am, after all, a woman and capable of weathering any storm.”
“I want you. You know that I do,” he said, reaching for her. Evie moved farther away from him.
“Do not fear, Your Grace. Society would never imagine such a virile, powerful duke such as yourself would waste his time with a woman who was of his age. How uncomely and vulgar.”
“Evie, that is not true, and you know it.”
She shrugged, heading toward the door. “None of it matters now. You require a wife, and your betrothed is now yours once more. She’s young and will give you heirs. I may not. Not to mention your dislike of scandal will be averted should you do as you originally planned.”
“Evie,” he said, coming over to her and turning her to look at him. “We’ve been intimate. I cannot abandon you.”
“I have always put my sister above anyone else, cared, and looked out for her her whole life. I’m not about to let her fall on her own sword. Even if that was of her own making. You will marry her, and I shall be fine. We will not speak of this time again, and from the moment I walk out of this house, what has passed between us is to be forgotten. Do you agree?”
He stared down at her, his beautiful, aristocratic face that she had kissed with abandon no longer going to be hers to have. A lump lodged in her throat, and she tried to swallow past it.
“How are we to go on as if nothing has happened between us? I cannot marry your sister under such circumstances. It would not be right.”
“You will tell her nothing. You cannot. To do so will ruin my reputation and hers because she would call off the wedding if she knew the truth.”
“Evie,” he said, frowning, his hands tight upon her shoulders. “How will I stay away from you?”
“Because your family has been through enough scandal to last it two lifetimes, you said so yourself. You will have a happy marriage with my sister and will keep your distance from me because you have to. That is how you will stay away from me.”
A muscle worked at his temple before he stepped back, the chasm between them growing wider and wider by the minute. “I will return to my London home with Lucy. Mama and Papa can travel to London for the wedding. Your nuptials must be seen as a joyous and much-celebrated event. A marriage all the way in Wiltshire will not do.”
The duke nodded but said nothing, merely watched her. “I’m sorry, Evie,” he whispered.
Evie walked to the door, hoping that the duke would stop her, while all the while praying that he did not. They could never be. Not now, at least. “I’m sorry too,” she said at the door, before she opened it and left him behind her.
Evie went upstairs and packed her things, explaining the situation to Lucy before heading out the front of the duke’s townhouse and hiring a hackney cab. Leaving her heart inside.
Chapter 15
Finn started to make the usual circulations that were required of him whenever he was in town, and the Season was in full swing. He’d attended numerous balls, had played the doting fiancée, and yet he’d never been more sorry for himself.
How on earth was he to marry Miss Lucy when Evie was in the world, an impossibility that he could not stomach. The past three weeks had been torture. To parade a woman about town as if they were the happiest couple in England made him want to cast up his accounts. Made him want to storm across the ballroom floor right this instant and demand Evie to see sense. To forget what everyone thought, what scandal his marrying her instead of her sister would create and live a long and happy life together.
He wanted her back. Hated that she’d reverted to the proper English lady who was courteous, commandeering, and sweet—helping her sister prepare for the wedding and only too happy to give him and Miss Lucy time together whenever he called. He didn’t go to her London home to see his betrothed. God forgive him, he went there to see Evie.
Finn stood beside his friend, the Duke of Whitstone, sipping a whiskey while His Grace watched the Duchess of Whitstone dance a minuet with Viscount Duncannon.
“Miss Lucy will make a sweet wife for you, Finn. I will admit to being surprised to hear you’re marrying the younger Milton girl. I always thought you and the elder Miss Milton suited better in temperament. At least, when we’ve been together in London, that is what I gathered.”
Finn was well aware that he suited Evie better than anyone ever before in his life. Hell, even now, as he spied Evie across the room, speaking to her group of friends, laughing and smiling, he was conscious of how much he missed her.
Loved her.
The past three weeks in town had been hell. Sleep eluded him. It would seem that he could no longer rest alone, missed having her beside him, someone to reach over and pull into his embrace whenever he wished.
He drank down the last of his whiskey, steeling himself to speak the words that he’d tried not to these past days. “I’ve made a grave error, and I do not know how to fix my circumstance.”
The duke glanced at him, his brow furrowing. “Tell me everything. Perhaps I can assist you,” Whitstone said, watching him with something akin to pity. As if he suspected already that he longed for Evie instead of his betrothed Miss Lucy.
Finn sighed, hating himself beyond measure right at this moment. Whatever was he going to do? “I have offered to the wrong sister, and now there is little I can do about it.”
The duke nodded, turning back to watch the dancers on the floor. “I know something of what happened between you and Evie. Ava has disclosed some particulars. Whatever made you agree to marry Miss Lucy after she threw you over for another man? You are not obliged to marry her after she treated you with so little respect.”
“I know I am not, but she had written to her father, asking for the banns to be called after her Mr. Brown hightailed it to the Continent. Not to mention, she begged Evie to help her in gaining back her betrothed. Should I have called it off, the scandal would’ve been great. All of London would’ve talked about my name for months. I could not endure that again.”
“And so, you’ll endure a lifetime of misery in a marriage you do not want?” the duke scoffed, before clearing his throat. “If you believed Miss Milton that she is content with this decision, you’re fooling yourself. A woman in love does not want her love to marry her sibling.”
Hearing it spoken out loud made his blood run cold. It also left him wondering why the hell he’d agreed to such an action. Miss Lucy had no feelings for him or respect by what she had done, whereas he had an overwhelming notion that what he felt for Evie, was something that he could not live the rest of his life without. He cared for her deeply. More than he’d ever cared for anyone else in his life. Her opinion was what he valued most, and so when she demanded he save her sister’s reputation, he could not deny her.
“Y
ou think that Evie loves me still?” Finn closed his eyes a moment, needed to break his view of Evie across the other side of the room. “I do not know how I’m to keep myself from her. To think of all the times ahead of us that she will visit Lucy at Stoneheim Palace. Have Seasons with us here in town, and I’m to be distant, unaffected by her presence. It’s an impossible thing to ask of a man.”
“An impossible thing to ask a man who is in love.”
Love?
The word reverberated around in his mind once again and he fought not to panic at the decision that he had to make. His marriage was to take place next week. How could he go through with such a thing? He could not, but did that mean he loved Evie? Finn looked to where she stood with her companions, just as she glanced up and stared in his direction. Their eyes met. Held. Time stilled, and the music drifted away, and all that was left in the room was the two of them.
Regret, savage, and brutal, tore through him, and he fought not to stride across the ballroom floor and take her in his arms, tell her that he was sorry. That he’d made a mistake, not just in London but when in Marlborough too. That he should have thought to ask her to be his bride. He’d always liked Evie, had known her through their mutual friends, why he’d allowed his narrow-minded views on women and their age to impinge on his decision he could not fathom. A mistake that he would forever regret, but at least he could do something now about it. Before it was too late.
She turned back to her friends, severing their contact, and the action cut him like a blade. Finn summoned a footman, in need of another drink. “How does a duke cry off from a wedding? Tell me, Whitstone, how I have managed to get myself into this position? My father was the man who London watched and gossiped about for his antics, never me. How have I allowed this to happen?”
Whitstone clapped him on the shoulder. “We are human, Finn. We may be dukes, but we do make mistakes. Take myself and Ava. I lost her for years because I followed my parents’ decree and believed them their lies. Do you think you should accept Miss Lucy’s lies, her treatment of you, and lose the only woman you’ve ever loved? You cannot and you do not need me to tell you that for you already know what is right. Be damned the scandal that it will cause. You’re the Duke of Carlisle. Who is to naysay or ridicule you? No one.”
Finn thought over Whitstone’s words, knowing them for the truth that they were. His friend was right, of course. He could not marry Miss Lucy. He did not love her, nor could he marry a woman who had run off with another man, no matter what crying off from their wedding would do to her reputation. She cared naught for him when she had chosen Mr. Brown.
His gaze landed on Evie once more, and warmth seeped into his bones for the first time since she had left his townhouse three weeks ago. He could not marry Miss Lucy, not when he loved Evie.
Loved her so very much that all he could think about was to make things right, to have her in his arms and love her for the rest of his days to the best of his ability.
“You’re right,” he said to Whitstone, a weight lifting from his shoulders at the sound of those words aloud. “I will make things right, and I will marry the woman I love. Not the woman whom I’m betrothed to.”
“Good man,” Whitstone said, taking a whiskey from a footman and clicking his glass against Finn’s. “Congratulations on your forthcoming marriage. I know you shall be very happy. You will not regret this choice.”
Finn smiled, sipping the amber liquid. “I believe I shall not. To love,” he said, toasting the emotion.
“To love,” Whitstone agreed, smiling at their antics.
The following afternoon Evie sat in the front parlor of the London home she shared with Molly, her parents were seated before the fire, discussing Lucy’s marriage next week. Evie tried to ignore their chatter, their excitement that their youngest daughter was marrying one of the wealthiest, most highly situated men in England.
Evie had already decided what she would do once her sister was married, and Molly had agreed to go with her. They would travel abroad, visit Europe and see all the beautiful things that they had never seen before.
She could not stay in England to see her sister start her life with the man Evie loved. She could not. To do so would be the veriest torture, not to mention impossible to bear. The last three weeks that they had been in town had been unbearable. To watch her sister hang off the duke, play and tease him as if she had never run off with Mr. Brown had changed her opinion of her sister forever.
Of course, she would always love her, but she no longer respected her so much. How she could do such a thing to the duke, a good man, not faultless by any means, but still a good man overall, was beyond her.
Her stomach twisted, and the ever-present nausea wracked her. She had been progressing more and more each day with illness. Her trip abroad could not come soon enough. She needed to get away from seeing the duke and Lucy together. It was making her unwell.
Or something was.
There would be other adventures in her life, other gentlemen admirers, and perhaps even a man who would love her as much as she feared she loved the duke.
The door to the parlor opened, and their butler announced the Duke of Carlisle.
Evie stood, curtsying as he entered before sitting back down. Her parents stood, going to the duke and fussing over him for several minutes. During their conversation, Lucy joined them, her golden locks bounding about her shoulders, her pretty blue eyes throwing the duke a coquettish look whenever she thought he was watching her.
Evie glanced back down at the knitting in her lap. She should have guessed that he would call this afternoon, he called every afternoon. She should have gone to her room or disappeared in the upstairs parlor, but she had not. Her foolish heart lived for his visits, to hear his deep, seductive voice speak of nothing of import for an hour or so before taking his leave.
The times with him here reminded her of when they were together on their travels to town. That time seemed a million years ago now, and never to be repeated. She could not wait until she left for Europe with Molly. No longer could she call London or Wiltshire home. Not if that meant she would have to see almost weekly her sister’s happiness that came at the price of her own.
Her stomach cramped, and she stilled, hoping she would not be ill in front of everyone. Her travels abroad could not come soon enough for another reason as well. This very morning she had visited a doctor on Harley Street, and she’d been informed that she was with child.
Evie clutched her stomach, a sense of rightness, and also fear, filling her. Molly said she would help her abroad with the baby and help her on their return home to settle her somewhere in the country. A plan they were going to be discussing with the Duchess of Whitstone when she arrived shortly.
As if the very thought of Ava conjured her, she waltzed into the room, as pretty as ever, greeting everyone.
“Good afternoon,” she said, smiling at those present before coming over to Evie. “I’m so very sorry to do this to you all, but I must beg a private audience with Evie. Please do excuse us.”
Ava clasped Evie’s hand and pulled her from the room, heading for the upstairs parlor. “What is it that’s so important? When I received Molly’s missive, it left me fearing the worse. Are you ill?”
“I will explain everything when we’re alone.” Evie took Ava into the private parlor and was glad to find Molly already in the room, reading a book. Evie checked for servants before shutting and locking the door. She leaned against the wood, knowing the best way to announce her news was to the point and without any hesitation.
“I’m pregnant with the Duke of Carlisle’s baby.”
Molly, as expected, did not react. The duchess, however, stood from her chair, her mouth agape but without any words. “Tell me that is not true. Evie. Surely you are joking.” Ava looked between them and slowly lowered herself back onto her seat when Evie and Molly remained quiet.
Evie came to sit with them both. “Please do not be cross, Ava, you’re making me more nervous th
an I already am.”
Ava stared at her, her usually perfect brow marred with a scowl. “He’s marrying your sister next week. You have not forgotten that have you, my dear?”
How could she forget? Had she not been carrying the duke’s child, she may have learned to live with her sister’s marriage to the man she loved, and she did love him. More than she’d ever thought to love anyone in her life. She had thought marriage, courtship, and affection would never be hers to have, but she’d been wrong. With the duke, she had all of those things, and now he was marrying someone else.
“That is why I’m traveling to Europe above anything else, even though I’ve longed to return to France and visit other locales. We shall stay away for a good year before returning home.”
“What shall you do when you return to England? I think if you’re carrying a child about with you, people will notice. The duke and your sister above anyone else.”
“That is where you come in, I hope,” she said, steeling herself to ask for help. She wasn’t used to having to be reliant on anyone for anything, but she would need the help of her friends if she were to survive this change in her circumstance.
“Me? What would you like me to do?” Ava asked.
“We need you to see if you have an empty cottage that Evie can live in on your estate. Away from society, but close to a community that she may be able to bring up her child without the censure of anyone we know,” Molly said, answering for Evie.
Ava did not reply for several moments. “Well, of course, I shall help you, but I will not lie to Whitstone, and so he will know the reason as to why I’m hiding you on our property.”
Evie could understand that well enough and nodded. “Very well, so long as His Grace does not tell anyone of my whereabouts or why I have disappeared from society. They do not need to know, and the Duke of Carlisle certainly does not need to know.”