Читать книгу Regency Temptation: The Greatest of Sins / The Fall of a Saint - Christine Merrill, Christine Merrill - Страница 13

‘Evelyn! Stop tormenting that poor kitten and see to your hem. I swear, girl, you cannot keep the stitches straight if you allow a beast to swipe at the edge of the linen.’

‘I am sorry, Aunt Jordan.’ Evie glanced at the work in her lap and tried to raise any interest in it. These sessions of needlework were another concession to her father’s wish that she behave like a young lady. On the few evenings when she had no other engagement, she was forced to endure them, along with critiques of her deportment. As usual, they were a trial both to her and the poor aunt charged with teaching her.

She set the shirt aside and lifted the kitten into her lap, offering it the end of the string to chase. ‘It is hardly fair to blame Diana for my indifferent needlework. I was equally bad at it before she arrived.’

‘Your manners have improved much in the last years,’ her aunt reminded her. ‘And you are on the cusp of success with St Aldric. Snaring a peer is much more challenging than plain sewing. Your stitching would improve as well, if you would but make an effort at it.’

If it was put to some other purpose than making shirts, then perhaps she would try harder. She remembered the pages in Sam’s text books that explained suturing and wondered if large wounds were more difficult than the cuts she had closed. The stitches would need to be bigger, of course, and more numerous. As she poked at the linen, she imagined the resistance of skin, and the difficulties created when the subject flinched …

‘Evelyn!’

The needle slipped and she pricked her finger instead of the cloth. She waved her hand in the air for a moment, trying to shake the pain away, then held it high to keep the drop of blood that formed from falling on the work. This sent her mind to the various methods to staunch bleeding, and the efficacy of causing it when one had an excess of certain humours.

Not that she would need any of this information as the wife to a duke. But that had never been her plan, not even from the first. She had studied and prepared so that, on the day that Sam finally realised his mistake and came home to her, she might prove herself a useful helpmeet to him. If she understood his work, then they would always have something to talk about.

But he had barely given her time to display any of her hardwon knowledge to him. While in his rooms, she had allowed the physical side of the conversation to come to the fore, proving to him in a most unladylike way that she understood biology.

Perhaps she would have fared better if she had put the stethoscope back into the chest and turned the conversation to the use of leeches and cupping as the old Evie would have. Or behaved as the charming and witty young lady Aunt Jordan had taught her to be. Instead, she had tried to combine the two and it had been a disaster.

She had offered herself to the man she loved—and he had rejected her. Though she might deny it to herself, it was what she had feared might happen. Sometimes, six years of silence meant exactly what they appeared to. Girlish sureties might owe more to fairy tales and fantasy than they did to truth. There had always been a chance that the kiss she remembered as loving and passionate was nothing more than a peck on the cheek. She had been prepared for that.

But not for what had occurred. If anything, she had remembered the past too innocently. Or had his passion grown to conflagration during their separation?

And yet he denied it. He did not seem to know love from lust. She was sure, after all they had been through together, that she did. Why else had she waited so many years for him to come back to her? She was still a maid, in heart and mind. While she was sure that physical attraction played a part in her feelings for Sam, it was not the only reason she wanted him.

She thought of the kiss.

She must admit that, after the recent interlude in his arms, lust played a stronger role than it had a few days ago. So that was what poets wrote about, and why men had fought for Helen at Troy. It was a quite different feeling than she’d had last week. Much more urgent. The feelings were as clear in her mind now as when he had been kissing her. She had but to think for a moment about them to feel the desire renew itself.

It made her feelings for St Aldric all the more unworthy. She had hoped that it would be easier to make the decision between them, once she had talked to Sam. And it certainly was. There would never be anyone in her heart of hearts but Sam Hastings. What she felt for Michael was but a pale imitation.

Why could Sam not understand that?

Aunt Jordan gave up a small yawn and Eve encouraged it with a yawn of her own and a stretch of her arms. She held out the poorly finished shirt for approval. The older woman inspected it and sighed, still disappointed in the work. ‘We will try again, next week,’ she said. ‘And I will be attending the ball at the Merridews tomorrow, as your chaperon.’

‘Yes, Aunt Jordan.’

‘The duke will be there as well.’ Her aunt gave her a significant look. ‘It will give you another chance to demonstrate graces that do not come so difficult to you.’

It meant that the time for indecision was nearing an end. He might offer again. If he did, what reason did she have to refuse him? After this afternoon, it was likely that Sam would leave her again before he could learn the truth of his birth. She owed him that, at least.

When her aunt was safely stowed in a carriage and on her way back to her own town house, Eve turned from the door to search out her father. He might have claimed to be intractable this afternoon. But in her experience, even those edicts set in stone could be worn down by begging, pleading and promises to be the best possible daughter, and to never bother him again.

She found him in the study and, as he always did, he looked up from the book he had been reading and smiled as though her interruption was welcome.

‘Father?’ She smiled to show that the conversation would be a pleasant one and no real disruption. She bent to kiss him on the cheek.

‘My dear.’ He gave a curious cock of his head, as though already suspecting her intentions. ‘Did you have a pleasant evening with your aunt?’

‘Of course, Father. She is just gone home,’ she said.

‘But no visit from the duke this evening,’ her father said with a slight frown.

‘He was here earlier,’ she said, with a little sigh of impatience. She did not wish to discuss Michael. Those conversations always ended with her father hopeful and her searching for a way to postpone capitulation. ‘I will see him tomorrow at the Merridews. He cannot spend all his time with me, you know.’

‘As long as he was not put off by the presence of another man in the garden with you this morning,’ her father said.

‘You are speaking of Sam?’ She managed an incredulous smile. But she could not very well argue that he was not ‘a man’. He had removed any doubts on the subject as he kissed her. ‘He is family, Father. And surely it was good to see him after all this time.’

To this, her father responded with a blank look, as though the matter was practically forgotten. ‘He has not performed as well as I had hoped. Despite what he says, he hardly needed a university education in the navy.’

‘Perhaps he felt the navy needed him,’ she suggested. ‘He was always an altruist at heart. And I am sure it is better, in the aftermath of a battle, to have a skilled man dealing with the injuries.’

‘If that is what makes him happy, then I wish him well.’ Her father gave a tired sigh, as though he hoped this concession was sufficient to end the discussion.

‘Happy?’ she responded with a worried frown. ‘Content, perhaps. But to me, he seemed rather unsettled.’

‘Because he is no longer comfortable in this house,’ her father said. ‘He had planned to leave immediately after speaking to me.’ He frowned back at her. ‘I was surprised to find him still with us when the duke arrived.’

‘Because I would not let him go,’ Eve said. ‘It is ridiculous for him to stay at an inn when his old room is here and prepared for his return.’ She was very close to pouting, which always felt silly, but it had been effective in the past.

‘If he showed discontent, perhaps it was your fault for keeping him here.’ Her father gave her a candid look. ‘There comes a time when one must recognise one’s place in society and know when one is intruding.’

‘But he was not an intrusion. He belongs here.’ Perfectly true, but too insistent. She moderated her tone and held out a supplicating hand. ‘He was like a son to you.’

‘Like a son is quite different from being a son,’ her father reminded her. ‘He was my ward. But Sam Hastings is no one’s child.’

‘Of course he is,’ she said. ‘Unless you would have me believe that he was hatched from an egg, or some other such fantasy. He came into the world in the usual way, from a union between man and woman.’

‘Evelyn! Do not speak of such things. They are unseemly topics for a young lady.’

‘I would not have to, if you would be forthcoming with what you know.’ She was giving him a full-on pout now, she was sure. She would follow it with tears, if she had to. It was the height of foolishness. But if topics were continually being put off limits to her because of her gender, a reasonable argument would not be possible. And she must have her way.

‘Are you going on about that again?’ her father said with a sigh. ‘Really, Evelyn, you must realize that this is no business of yours.’

‘It is my business,’ she said and allowed her lip to tremble. Then she pinched the needle prick on her finger, which gave a fresh throb of pain and made her eyes water. ‘Because I love and care about …’ she paused to gulp back a sob ‘… both of the men involved.’ Let her father think it was not just Sam that she sought to help. She gave him a hopeful smile through the tears. ‘St Aldric would be most grateful, I am sure. He has told me often, in candid moments, how sad it is to know that nothing else of his father has survived. He would welcome any family that he might find.’

‘It is not up to me to make such decisions,’ her father said a little less confidently. ‘I promised, when the boy was merely a baby …’

There. The tears were doing the tick. He was almost ready to admit the truth. ‘Any oaths spoken to the old duke can no longer be binding now that both he and his duchess are dead. It is only Michael now. And he is so very alone. If his father had known that telling him would be a mercy, I’m sure he would relieve you from your oath.’

This approach, which did not seem so focused on Sam’s happiness, was having its effect. She could see her father’s resolve fighting with his desire to impress the duke. ‘There are other things that would make St Aldric happy, you know. He will not be alone with a wife and children.’

‘He will have those,’ she said dismissively.

‘When?’ her father said, bringing the conversation to a halt. ‘You know what he wants, Evie. And what I expect from you. He has waited for months, yet you will not give him an answer.’

‘I will, soon,’ she said. But perhaps she would not have to. Sam clearly thought himself unworthy. If it was because he lacked money or status, surely it was better to be half-brother to a duke then a barely acknowledged ward.

‘Soon, you say? Then I will tell the duke about his brother, at that time.’

‘So! You admit the truth, then?’ It was hardly a victory if he admitted it to her, but would not tell Sam.

‘Yes,’ her father said, with another sigh. ‘I fulfilled my part of the bargain by seeing to it that the child was educated and launched in a profession. And by keeping my mouth closed, until you came to me, to pry it open.’

‘I knew it. I had but to look at them together to be sure.’ For a moment, her own triumph overcame all else.

‘And now, I suppose, you think you can blurt the story to them at the first opportunity,’ her father said, with a disapproving shake of his head.

‘I will, if you will not,’ she said, stamping her foot like a child.

‘And you will hurt them both. If they must be told, as you think they must, it should be done quietly, privately, and by me. It will be shock to both men, even if it is a favourable one. I have documents to show that this is no idle claim and there can be no doubt in the minds of the parties involved.’

He was right. Random assertions by her would mean nothing. She must allow her father to do it in his own time. ‘As long as it is done soon,’ she said.

‘I will do it when you agree to end this nonsense of indecision.’ He was looking at her directly, obviously unmoved by her histrionics. ‘I have been far too lax with you, Evelyn, and have only myself to blame for this. You are behaving like a spoiled and wilful girl. In all other things I might demur. But in this, I will remain adamant. You are my only child and all that remains of my beloved Sarah. You are my heart and my life. I cannot sleep easy until you are settled. And for you, nothing less than a duke will do.’

So this was the impasse. She had known there would be a day when all the girlish wheedling she could manage would not be enough. And it had finally come. Father would release the truth, if she surrendered her hopes.

She weighed the situation as rationally as she was able. Both St Aldric and Sam would know their connection. They deserved it. On their last meeting, Sam had made it quite clear that she could wait for ever and never have him. He expected her to marry the duke.

But he had also kissed her, which negated his other behaviour.

She would accept the duke, as her father wished. Betrothed was quite a different thing from married. Many things might happen before they got to the altar.

Then she would write to Sam, tell him of her intentions, and give him one last chance to stop the engagement. If he did nothing, she would go forwards, just as Father wished her to. There were many things right with having Michael as a husband, but only one thing wrong. The fact that she did not love him was hardly an obstacle. She would love only one man in her life. If she could not have him, better to choose someone that she liked.

But everything must be accomplished soon, before Sam took it into his head to leave London for Scotland or the sea. She took a breath, held it for a moment and committed to a plan.

‘If you promise that you will tell them both, I will accept St Aldric the very next time he suggests it, which is likely to be tomorrow evening.’ Now that she had agreed, it was simply a matter of scheduling and giving Sam a strict timetable in which to change his mind. She glanced at the calendar on the writing desk. ‘We shall have an engagement ball next week. The banns will be read starting next Sunday. The ceremony shall follow shortly thereafter. The whole business shall be settled by next month, if that is to your liking. As long as you swear to tell them.’

Her father was looking at her in amazement, as though trying to decide whether to upbraid her for setting standards or show the happiness he felt at getting his way.

‘It is all I want for a wedding present from you,’ she coaxed. ‘And I doubt I would keep the secret for long, now that I have wormed it out of you. I am but a woman, you know.’

He smiled in response to her joke, though she was not being the least bit funny. ‘You are probably right. You are a fickle creature, my dear, and I cannot expect you to keep mum. Accept the duke and set a date for the engagement ball. Invite Hastings to it and we shall settle it all on the same night.’