Читать книгу Awakening The Shy Miss - Bronwyn Scott - Страница 11

Chapter Three

‘So, how did it go last night?’ The question hit Evie the moment two of her best friends stepped down from the open carriage. It was mid-morning and the sun was riding high towards its noon heat. Soon it would be hot, but for now it was pleasantly warm and Evie let Beatrice and May link their arms through hers, flanking her on either side as they set off for shopping in the village.

Anyone watching them advance down the street would see three young, chattering women, all smiles and laughter, even carefree. In part, that might be true. Evie knew the primary purpose for this shopping expedition was to hear about the excitement of her evening. No one saw the other agenda that brought them together. No one could be allowed to. It was their secret. Time was running out. They might not be together much longer. Already, their fourth, Claire, was on her honeymoon far away in Vienna, where she’d live with her new husband. Beatrice would be the next to go, probably in a few weeks.

Evie shot a covert glance at Beatrice’s middle, softly rounding beneath the loose cotton muslin of her summer gown, proof that it was going to happen. Beatrice was pregnant. And unwed. She would be leaving for Scotland soon, where she could have her baby at a distant relative’s home and her family could forget about her shame. Beatrice’s stay in Little Westbury was merely a two week stop-over in preparation for that journey.

‘Well?’ May prompted with a mischievous glint in her eyes. ‘Did anything happen last night? I heard the assembly hall was a crush.’

Evie smiled at each of her friends in turn as she related her story; how she’d sat behind Andrew and found a way to move up next to him for the toast; how she hadn’t given up and followed Andrew to the stage. She left out other details like Andrew’s disregard.

‘Well done!’ May commended her, gesturing to the shop window on her right. ‘Let’s stop in here at the Emporium. I need to get some drawing paper and pens.’

Masterson’s Emporium was the social hub of Little Westbury, a shop that carried a variety of goods ranging from planting seeds to ready-made gloves straight from London. Customers milled about, looking over the goods in the dim coolness of the shop. A few children ogled the row of sweets displayed in glass jars.

‘How did Andrew take your presence?’ Beatrice sifted through a bin of soaps, lifting them at random to sniff as they waited for May.

‘He was surprised,’ Evie answered honestly. ‘He didn’t expect to see me and it flustered him.’ She didn’t want to admit Andrew had forgotten to introduce her. Beatrice didn’t like Andrew as it was. Bea thought he wasn’t worthy of her. This would just give Bea fuel for that fire. ‘I met the Prince,’ Evie offered brightly, hoping to distract Bea.

‘How was he? Arrogant? Haughty?’ Bea sniffed a citrus-scented soap and wrinkled her nose before putting it back down.

‘No, he was neither.’ Evie gave Bea a quizzical glance. ‘Why would you think that?’

‘He’s a prince. Men like him have a certain tendency towards pretension.’

Evie laughed. ‘Be nice, Bea. He was very cordial last night.’ More than cordial. She couldn’t recall the last time a man had been that ‘cordial’ to her. She couldn’t forget those eyes, her body couldn’t forget the feel of his lips brushing her knuckles. Her mind had rebelliously kept her awake last night with a hungry curiosity. What would it be like to be a woman who truly caught his attentions? She would never be that woman. But it was harmless to wonder from afar.

Bea gave a soft smile. ‘You’re too kind, Evie, always looking for the best in all of us.’

May hurried up to them, a brown wrapped package under her arm. ‘I’m ready to go. Where to next?’

‘The draper’s, I need to get some fabric. I’ve a new dress in mind for autumn.’ It was a beautiful russet silk she’d ordered from a warehouse in London when she’d been in town. She could hardly wait to get started on it. Evie smiled as they set off down the street. ‘You’ve heard all my news, now I want to hear yours.’ The threesome had not seen each other since Claire’s farewell ball in London. Evie and her family had set out for home immediately afterwards, arriving a week ago. May and Bea had only reached Little Westbury the day before after a sudden delay in departure plans.

‘I don’t think there’s much to tell,’ Beatrice began slowly. Too slowly. Evie sensed there was something afoot, but there was no time to enquire.

May squeezed her arm, whispering in frantic excitement, ‘Who is that? He’s crossing the street and coming towards us!’

Evie looked down the street where a tall man in high boots and summer buckskin sans pleats strode towards them swinging a walking stick at his side. She recognised him immediately, pleats or not. ‘That’s the Prince of Kuban, Dimitri Petrovich, himself.’ All six feet and two inches of himself. Her sartorial eye noted the excellence of his wardrobe. He was dressed for an English summer day in a single-breasted tailcoat of camel with a waistcoat in bone linen, set off with a deep green cravat the colour of the forest. But no matter how English his clothing, no one would mistake him for an Englishman, not with that long hair pulled into a sleek tail behind him, making his high cheekbones all the more prominent, his eyes all that more exotic.

‘He is certainly all man,’ May murmured appreciatively. ‘Just look at that swagger.’ Against her better judgement, Evie’s eyes drifted down to his open-hipped stroll, which bordered on decadent. Even his walk was exotic. Good heavens, she really had to find a new word. He was handsome. Perhaps if she wasn’t focused on Andrew, she might find him attractive in a more personal way. For now, though, the attraction was limited to his mannerisms, his fashion. She truly did admire his clothes. Even if she didn’t have her heart set on Andrew, admiring the prince’s clothes was all a girl like her could do. One only had to look at him, so confident, so handsome, so male, and then look at her to know she never stood a chance. She wasn’t the type who caught princes. She was too odd. London had taught her that in the most brutal way possible.

‘Miss Milham, good day.’ The Prince gave a short bow in greeting. ‘What a pleasure to encounter you.’ Evie was aware of Beatrice and May exchanging quiet looks. Her usually confident friends seemed daunted by his presence.

Evie dipped a curtsy. ‘Your Highness, may I introduce my friends? This is Miss May Worth and Miss Beatrice Penrose.’

He greeted each in turn, taking their hands and smiling at them, his eyes as warm and genuine as they’d been last night, proof that she’d been right. These rituals were mere politeness to him. They meant nothing. He asked how they were enjoying the weather and enquired about their errands, making small talk, doing the work of putting them at ease. He must do it all the time, Evie realised, watching the interaction. Everywhere he went, people were probably in awe of him, in awe of being in the company of a royal prince. Did he ever get tired of the effort?

Then he was talking to her and she forgot her speculations. ‘It’s quite fortuitous that I’ve run into you, Miss Milham. I was hoping to take you up on the offer to view your tapestry. I regret we did not get to speak of it more in depth last night.’

Evie blushed under the weight of Bea’s and May’s stares. They were wondering what she hadn’t told them. ‘You are welcome to view it any time. Someone is always at home,’ Evie managed. Beside her, May straightened, her posture becoming alert. That worried her. Apparently, May had overcome any self-consciousness.

‘Tomorrow,’ May interjected with a smile to the Prince. ‘You should come tomorrow to view the tapestry. Evie is always home on Tuesdays in the afternoon and the light in the tapestry room is very good around one o’clock.’ Oh, sweet heavens, May had invited the Prince to her house! Had, in fact, all but begged him to come over. Even for May, this bordered on mortifying. Evie was suddenly wishing the Prince had been a little more awe-inspiring.

‘May—’ Evie tried to mitigate her friend’s boldness. The poor man would feel trapped. ‘He might be busy.’

But the Prince took May’s boldness in his stride. He didn’t sound trapped. ‘One o’clock it is.’ He looked in her direction. ‘If that is acceptable to you, Miss Milham?’

May’s foot came down on hers under their skirts before she could think of politely refusing. Evie heard herself squeak, ‘One o’clock would be fine,’ before the Prince smiled once more and continued down the street.

‘What do you think you’re doing?’ Evie whirled on May the moment the Prince was out of sight. ‘You invited a foreign dignitary to my house! My house. You don’t even live there. Since when do you invite guests to other people’s homes?’

May gave a smug laugh, unfazed by the outburst. Evie was envious of that laugh, that confidence. Nothing bothered May, not even a flagrant disregard for the rules. ‘Since you started passing up perfectly good opportunities to spend time with handsome men.’ May pulled her into a quiet side street. ‘He was angling for an invitation and you were prevaricating with your generic responses. “Come over any time,”’ May mimicked.

‘I didn’t want him to feel coerced.’ Evie folded her arms over her chest in defence.

‘Oh, I assure you, he wasn’t feeling coerced. He was running wild and free with no fences in sight,’ May replied, blowing out a frustrated breath. ‘Evie, a handsome man who is also a royal, foreign prince wanted to come to your house. How many times do you think that happens, especially in West Sussex?’

‘To see a tapestry,’ Evie reminded her.

May was undaunted. ‘Who cares about the reason why? He’s still coming.’

‘I’m not interested in him that way,’ Evie explained patiently. ‘I’m interested in Andrew.’ She didn’t need to catch a prince, nor did she want to. Her sights were firmly set on Andrew Adair. Besides, what would a man like the Prince—a dashing, well-travelled, sensual man—do with a girl like her who’d never been out of England? It seemed an exercise in futility to even imagine it; a very warm exercise that she had no business entertaining in broad daylight on a village street.

‘Let me try, May.’ Beatrice stepped up. ‘Evie, dear, you can use the Prince as leverage. Men are competitive creatures.

‘Once Andrew sees another man interested in you, it will pique his own curiosity, especially if that man is a royal prince and a friend. Andrew will wonder what he’s been missing.’

‘And he’ll make the effort to find out?’ Evie supplied the rest. She beamed at her friends. Perhaps May’s plan was pure genius after all. ‘What would I do without you? I’m so glad you’re here.’ She paused and gasped as a sudden thought hit her. ‘You will come tomorrow, won’t you? Both of you? You’ll know what to say, what to do. You know what my father will be like. He’ll go on and on about King Arthur and all of his books far longer than is decent and my mother will be so overset about a prince coming to visit, she’ll spend the afternoon on the fainting couch or pestering the cook for perfection.’ Her parents were good people, but they were not social people. Entertaining was not their strong suit. ‘I can’t possibly face the Prince alone.’

There was no rush of assurances. She had the sense again that something was wrong. Bea and May exchanged another of those looks between them. They’d been doing that a lot today. May took her hand, her blue eyes serious. ‘We’d love to be there, but I’m afraid we can’t make it.’ She flicked a glance at Bea and Beatrice nodded. ‘We are leaving tomorrow for Scotland.’

‘Tomorrow!’ Evie protested. ‘But you’ve barely arrived?’ She looked at Bea. ‘What has happened? We were supposed to have two weeks.’

Bea’s hand went protectively to her stomach. When she pressed like that, catching the fabric so that it was flat against her body, her stomach looked larger, the pregnancy more advanced. ‘I’m showing sooner than expected.’ She bit her lip.

Evie felt immediately selfish. ‘I can let out some more dresses for you. We can do it this afternoon.’ She’d been altering Bea’s clothes for her since the spring, using her needle to keep Bea’s pregnancy discreet.

‘That’s sweet of you, Evie, but no.’ Bea gave a sad smile and shook her head. ‘My parents would be more comfortable knowing I’m safe in Scotland before any speculation begins.’ That was putting a polite trim on it, Evie thought. Beatrice’s parents were worried about scandal more than they were worried about their daughter’s safety.

Beatrice put a brave face on. ‘Besides, if I’m showing so soon the baby might be early, it might be twins. It will be good to be away and settled before too much longer.’ She meant before November, when the baby was due. Late autumn didn’t seem so far away when one looked at it like that. In less than four months Beatrice would be a mother. Alone. Evie glanced at May. No, not alone. ‘You’re going with her?’

‘Yes.’ May’s eyes met hers in a silent plea for understanding. Evie nodded. Beatrice needed May more now than she did.

‘I’m glad you’ll be with her.’ It was the truth. Beatrice shouldn’t be alone. If her family refused to be there to help her through the birth, then her friends definitely should be. She wasn’t sure how May had arranged it, but it did bring her a sense of comfort to know May would be there.

Beatrice reached for her other hand. ‘We are sorry to leave you, Evie. But I think May has set you on a path towards success.’ The words offered a new light to May’s bold gesture. It had been a parting gift. May had pushed her towards her future with the invitation to the Prince.

The import of that didn’t escape her. They weren’t the Left Behind Girls Club any more. Claire had Jonathon. Beatrice would have May and the new baby. Everyone was moving forward. For the first time since their childhood days, Evie was on her own.