How to Plan a Wedding for a Royal Spy (7 page)

“It's a church and a charity in St. Giles,” Evie replied. “Michael is one of the patrons, and I sometimes help out. I'm sure it's nothing you'd be interested in, Will.”

“I'm interested in everything you do, Evie,” Will said in a gently chiding tone. “You should know that by now.”

“Really?” she said. “I would have thought the opposite was true, given our history.”

The unexpected riposte robbed him of speech for a few moments. Beaumont stepped into the conversational breach. “I'm sure you have no interest in our simple little charity, Captain Endicott. Anything we could tell you would surely pale in comparison to your military adventures in the Peninsula, for instance.”

Will was tempted to grab the blighter by his cravat and pull him up on his toes, but Beaumont's jab had revealed something important. Evie had clearly talked to Beaumont about him, perhaps even explaining their falling out.

And now she'd gone back to looking awkward, as if she'd suddenly remembered how much she loathed conflict. “Michael, I'm sure it must be time to go in for dinner. Will you escort me in?”

Just as Beaumont turned to take her arm, Alec strolled up and smoothly inserted himself between Evie and her swain. “Miss Whitney, how delightful to see you again. I must tell you, I find your family completely charming. Your mother, in particular, has been most welcoming.”

“That would be a change,” Evie muttered.

Will finally gave in to his darker angels. “I'm sorry, I didn't catch that.”

“Never mind,” she gritted out. “Michael—”

“I don't believe we've met,” Alec said, turning to Beaumont with an expansive smile. “Miss Whitney, will you do the honors?”

Evie sighed and then performed the most perfunctory of introductions. “The
Honorable
Michael Beaumont, Captain Gilbride.”

She stressed the
Honorable
as if to suggest that Michael was above their touch. She obviously didn't know that Alec was heir to one of the wealthiest earldoms in Britain. Still, it wasn't like Evie to indulge in snobbery. It was more evidence of how rattled she was.

“Alec, we were talking about Mr. Beaumont's charity in London,” Will added. “In St. Giles. It sounds a most worthy cause, which I am sure would interest you greatly.”

His cousin needed no further prompting.

“Oh, indeed,” Alec responded, appropriately enthused. “A man can't do enough to help the unfortunate poor, can he? You must tell me all about it, Mr. Beaumont. I'm indeed vastly interested.”

Will had to swallow a laugh. As usual, Alec was laying it on rather thick. Evie's features displayed her skepticism, but Beaumont was peering at him with an arrested expression on his scholarly face.

“You take an interest in charitable works, Captain Gilbride?” he cautiously asked.

“Lord, yes, as does my grandfather, the Earl of Riddick. We're forever talking about where we can do the most good. There's such a great need, especially in the stews, don't you agree? It's positively shocking what those poor devils there have to suffer.”

Though Will initially thought Alec was overplaying his hand, he was wrong. From the gleam in Beaumont's eyes, the man was well and truly hooked.

“In that case, I'd like very much to tell you about the work we do at St. Margaret's,” Beaumont replied.

“Splendid. I can't think of anything I'd rather talk about.” Alec took Beaumont's arm and started to lead him away.

Beaumont seemed to recollect himself. “Evelyn, do you mind—”

“Not to worry, Mr. Beaumont, I'll take care of her,” Will replied.

That brought the scowl back to the man's face, but Alec steered him toward the other side of the room, talking with obvious enthusiasm. In a matter of seconds, Beaumont was reengaged in the discussion and had apparently forgotten all about Evie.

Will had no intention of making the same mistake.

He turned back to her with a warm smile. She nervously flapped her lace fan against the side of her leg, looking worried and suspicious. “What are you up to, Will?”

He turned his back to the room, shielding her from observation. “Why should I be up to anything, Evie? I simply want to speak with my oldest and dearest friend.”

Prettily flushed a few minutes ago, she now looked pale and strained. “Oh, is that what we are? Perhaps we have different definitions of friendship. In my understanding of the term, friends stay in touch with each other. They answer letters and make an effort to see each other when they come back home, for however brief a time. And they certainly don't abandon one of them to wonder what she'd done to deserve such shabby, hurtful treatment from her
oldest and dearest friend.
”

For a moment, Will was too shocked to muster an answer. They stared at each other, the years and the distance falling away under the onslaught of her emotional pain. The hell of it was that he truly didn't
have
a good answer, for he'd done exactly that—abandoned their friendship. Not out of malice or disregard, but simply because he'd been too idiotically selfish to understand the impact it could have on someone as sensitive and loving as Evie.

Then she blinked, as she recalled her surroundings. Flushing a bright pink, she looked away. “I had no right to say any of those things, Will. Please forgive me.”

He let out a heavy sigh. “You have every right to be angry with me. But I never meant to hurt you, sweetheart, and that's the truth. I was just too young and stupid to know any better. Or to know what I truly wanted.”

She met his gaze, her cornflower-blue eyes big and bright with unshed tears. “And what do you want now?”

He wanted to tell her that he was sorry he'd been such a fool, and that he should never have turned his back so firmly on her. That he wanted them to be close again, as close as they'd once been.

But there was another truth staring him in the face. As much as he regretted hurting her and losing her friendship, he
didn't
regret his decision to enter the army. Oh, he'd been clumsy and could have done it better, but he'd found the life he'd wanted there. And, at the time, that life hadn't included her.

“Evie, I'm sorry.” He grimaced at the inadequacy of his response. It was bad enough he had to lie to her about Beaumont and the real reason he was visiting Maywood Manor. Will refused to compound that ugly but necessary deception with vague promises he couldn't possibly keep.

The swift passage of pain across her face wiped away the precious glimpse of the sweet girl he'd once loved.

“Never mind,” she said in a flat voice. “Both of us, as you say, were young and stupid, especially me. I should have known better than to expect anything from you.”

Her bitter pessimism sparked him to anger. “Evie, I am truly sorry I hurt you, but I never once made a promise to you that I couldn't keep.”

“No, you were always very careful in that respect, weren't you? God forbid you should accept any responsibility for your actions.”

Evie started to move away but he lashed out a hand to grasp her wrist. She startled, and then tugged. “Let me go,” she hissed, “before someone notices you acting like a bully.”

“A bully?” he asked with disbelief. “I know I hurt you and I'm truly sorry for that, but I know how strong you were, too, despite your shy ways. You were
always
the strong one, much more so than Eden, in fact. You were happy, too, no matter what was going on around us. But now I barely recognize you.”

She went so pale she looked ready to swoon. But when he reached out for her, she pushed his hand away.

“I'm sorry I don't live up to your expectations,” she said, obviously fighting for control. “It must be such a disappointment to know that I've finally grown up. But you see, I now have better things to do than moon over arrogant, handsome boys, and trail behind them like a lovesick puppy.”

“It wasn't like that, and you know it. I remember we were happy—with each other.” God, even to his own ears he sounded like a fool.

“That is true,” she said in a low voice, trying not to draw attention. Her tone seethed with resentment. “But what
I
remember is that the rest of my life wasn't happy or easy. I was running this household by the time I was fifteen, because Mamma couldn't be bothered to do it. But when I was with you, I tried to be what you wanted me to be—happy and carefree, the kind of girl I thought you would love. But it didn't work. You left me anyway and never looked back.”

He wanted to protest, but she cut him off. “And once I got over the pain and shock of being summarily abandoned, I finally got the chance to be who I wanted to be. Not who
you
wanted me to be.”

Before he could respond, he heard the soft patter of evening slippers rushing up behind him.

“Is everything all right, Evie?” Eden asked, barging past him.

“Yes, dear, everything is fine. Will and I were just reminiscing over old times.”

There was no possible reply to that, so Will simply held his tongue.

Eden narrowed her eyes at him and leaned in a bit, apparently ready to jab him in the chest with her finger. Or slap him. “I'll be talking with you later, Wolf Endicott.” It was definitely more threat than promise.

“I'll look forward to it,” he responded dryly.

Eden let out a disgusted snort and took her sister's arm. “Come along, darling. Michael's waiting to take you in to dinner.”

They marched right past Alec, barely deigning to notice him as he hastily stepped out of their way. Will glanced around, looking for a bare spot of wall against which to bang his thick skull.

“Looks like that went well,” Alec observed as he strolled up.

“You can't even begin to imagine,” Will said.

“I did my part, so it's not my fault you don't have your head in the game. But it's not like you to let a pretty girl twist you in knots like that, Wolf.” He paused for a moment. “Well, I suppose it was only to be expected.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” When Alec started to answer, Will waved a hand. “Never mind. How did it go with Beaumont?”

“The man has angels coming out of his backside, to hear him tell it. But I'll fill you in later.” He nodded across the drawing room. “It's time for dinner, and you're to take in Miss Eden Whitney. I believe she's waiting for you.”

Sure enough, Eden stood by the door, glaring at him like he'd just erupted from the depth of Hades in a belch of fire and brimstone.

“Good God,” Will muttered. “What the hell have I done to deserve this?”

A mocking laugh from Alec was his only answer.

Evie hovered outside the breakfast parlor, trying to work up her courage. Sooner or later she'd have to face Will and apologize for her rude behavior the previous evening. More than one person, including her mother, had seen her deliver him that unfortunate scold in the drawing room. Even Michael had noticed her bad temper. Not that she'd done a very good job of hiding it.

As for Will, she'd managed to avoid him for the rest of the evening, thanks to Eden switching the place cards in the dining room. Predictably, their mother
had
seated Evie next to Will, but Eden had shifted him next to garrulous Lady Portmire. Evie had read his annoyance in the tight set to his jaw, but he'd treated the elderly countess with faultless courtesy.

Mamma had been startled and clearly displeased by the switch but had done nothing but direct an angry glare at Evie, wrongly attributing blame to her, as usual. Not that Evie minded. She would happily accept a lecture if it meant saving her from the discomfort of having to spend hours sitting next to Will. After last night, she could almost wish never to see him again.

That proved Will's assertion that she'd turned into a coward, even if he hadn't expressed it quite like that.

“Is something wrong, Miss Evelyn?”

Swallowing a startled squeak, Evie turned to find one of the footmen standing behind her with a rack of toast in his hand.

“No, not at all,” she said with a weak smile. “Here, let me get the door for you.”

The young man looked appropriately horrified at the suggestion. “No, miss, that won't be necessary.”

He scuttled around her to open the door. When she preceded him into the room, he breathed out an audible sigh of relief, leaving Evie to reflect on the fact that she was capable of upsetting even the junior footman with very little effort. She supposed it took a certain amount of talent to be able to offend most everyone she knew, except for Michael, who never took offense at anything she said or did. No wonder she liked him so much.

Ducking her head, she braced herself to face their guests, including Will.

Sunshine streamed through the Venetian windows and threw bars of light and shadow across the pink and green floral carpet. The breakfast parlor was one of the prettiest rooms in the house, with pale green walls trimmed with glossy black panels, and a set of lovely Queen Anne sideboards against the wall. Evie and Eden often whiled away a good part of the morning in this room reading their correspondence, planning the day's activities, or simply chatting. It was a pleasant, peaceful way to start the day.

It also had the added virtue of being the only room their mother rarely set foot in. Mamma invariably had breakfast in bed before she repaired to her private parlor at the back of the house. Unfortunately, she had chosen to come down for breakfast this morning, which meant she had something up her sleeve. Only in the case of a dire emergency did Mamma set foot out of her room before eleven o'clock, even when guests were visiting. The fact that she was down before ten today was alarming, to say the least.

“There you are, Evelyn,” Mamma said from her place at the foot of the table. “I was beginning to think I'd have to send a footman up to fetch you.”

Evie murmured an apology, though it wouldn't do a whit of good in deflecting her mother's ire.

A quick glance around the table revealed that only a few of their guests had joined them. The ladies hadn't come down, and some of the men had probably eaten earlier and then gone fishing with her father. Eden was there, of course, and Matt, along with Michael and Lord Portmire, who looked sleepy and befuddled, as usual.

Unfortunately, Will and Captain Gilbride were there too, which meant Evie's luck had completely run out.

The men all rose to their feet and bid her good morning, then Will pulled out the empty seat beside him for her. His rather stern mouth curved up in a polite smile that failed to span the distance to his riveting blue eyes. If one could be said to be smiling and scowling at the same time that was Will.

His eminently reasonable demeanor was better than she deserved, but she still had no intention of sitting next to him, if for no other reason than he might be tempted to
accidentally
dump his plate of coddled eggs and ham in her lap. There was no point in tempting fate.

“Come sit by me, dearest,” Eden said brightly, patting the empty seat next to her.

Feeling like the worst sort of coward, she headed to the other side of the table, dropping into the seat between Eden and Michael with a barely repressed sigh of relief. Between her mother's glare and Will's narrow-eyed inspection, she felt like she'd been forced to run a gauntlet.

“Good morning, my dear,” Michael murmured in a solicitous voice. Like Will, he subjected her to a close inspection, but his gaze conveyed concern rather than disapproval.

No wonder he looked concerned. After a sleepless night, Evie fancied she looked rather like Lady Alice, the pale, pinch-faced Elizabethan ancestor who peered down from her portrait in the upstairs gallery. Legend had it that Alice haunted the top floor, drifting around in an annoyingly insubstantial manner, frightening the maids. Evie felt rather stretched and insubstantial herself this morning, although no one with her sturdy frame could be accused of fading away. She could never truly play a tragedy queen, given that she was as healthy as an ox. She simply wasn't built for lying around on couches in dimly lit rooms, vinegar in one hand and smelling salts in the other.

“Can I make up a plate for you?” Michael asked.

“No, thank you,” she said, forcing a smile.

It was time to stop feeling fragile. True, she owed Will an apology and that wouldn't be fun, but there was no reason to mope about simply because an old friend had stopped by for a visit. She should be happy to see him, and supremely grateful he had escaped the carnage of Waterloo unscathed.

“I'll just have tea and toast,” she said. “Then we can spend the rest of the morning going over the books, if you'd like.”

Michael had brought a great deal of paperwork with him, including the ledgers for the charity school at St. Margaret's and the other relief services the church provided to the local population. They also needed to write a series of letters to prospective donors, since their foremost patron, Lord Ellsworth, had died a few months ago. They had enough funds to keep things running for the rest of the year, but the financial situation would grow precarious after that. While Michael channelled a good deal of his own money directly into St. Margaret's coffers, that couldn't go on forever, as Lord Leger, his father, had recently made clear. Although sympathetic to the travails of the Irish immigrants, the earl believed his youngest son far too willing to spend his money on the
undeserving poor
.

“If you wish,” Michael replied with a smile, “but it's a lovely day out. If you'd like to do something else, we can work on the books later.”

“Now, Miss Evelyn, why would ye be wantin' to spend the morning with your head in a fusty old book?” Captain Gilbride said from across the table. “Surely we can do better, especially on a day as fine as this.”

Evie peered at him, mystified by the captain's inconsistent brogue. Most times, his accent mirrored that of an English aristocrat who'd spent his formative years at Eton and Oxford. But once or twice last night he'd slipped into a Scottish accent heavy enough to make her think he might leap to his feet and commence dancing a reel. She was beginning to suspect that Gilbride affected the accent as more of a joke than anything else, although she couldn't imagine why. Her suspicions were confirmed by the incredulous lift to Will's eyebrows as he eyed his friend.

“No doubt you're longing for an excursion in the great outdoors,” Will commented sardonically to Alec. “What do you have in mind?”

“I've heard about some bonny ruins no more than a half hour's ride away. An old abbey, I believe.”

“That would be the Abbey of St. Osmund,” Eden said in a bored voice.

Most visitors to Maywood Manor made the trip to the picturesque ruins, and Evie and her sister had been there at least a dozen times. As pretty as the ruins were, she had no desire to see them again.

“Yes, that's it,” Gilbride said with a smile so charming that any woman but Eden would have dissolved into a puddle at his feet.

But Evie's twin simply shrugged, making her disdain for the suggestion abundantly clear. “It's an old Cistercian abbey that fell into ruins after the monasteries were shut down. It's pretty, but nothing unusual.”

“Aye, but it sounds like the perfect way to spend the morning with a pair of lovely lasses such as you and Miss Evelyn,” Gilbride said. “There'll be ample opportunity to wander among the ruins, I imagine, and no telling what a lad and a lassie might get up to.”

The captain punctuated his outrageous comment with a broad wink at Eden. When he winced, Evie was certain Will had just kicked him under the table.

After several moments of highly fraught silence in which Eden seemed too stunned to respond, Mamma dredged up a strained smile. “I think that's a splendid idea, girls,” she said. “You can either take the landau or ride with the men.”

This was what Mamma had been hoping for all along, probably intending to throw her together with Will. She had little doubt her mother had told Gilbride about the ruins in the first place.

“Thank you, Mamma,” she answered, trying to sound appropriately regretful. “I'm afraid Michael and I have a great deal of work to do this morning. Perhaps tomorrow might serve.”

Her mother put her teacup down with a decided click. “Evelyn, that kind of cavalier rudeness is something I particularly abhor. Captain Gilbride has gone out of his way to propose an entertainment that all the young people can enjoy. I'm shocked you would respond in so negative a fashion.”

Evie froze. Rarely did her mother deliver her scolds in front of anyone but family members. To be castigated publicly, especially in front of Will, made Evie sick to her stomach. Then again, her mother had never treated Will with any special consideration, and it wouldn't be the first time he'd heard Lady Reese take her daughter to task.

Sure enough, when Evie snuck a peek at him, Will was regarding her mother with open disapproval. In fact, he scowled so fiercely that Evie began to worry that her mother would both take notice
and
offense.

Eden sprang to her defense. “Mamma, there's no need to poke up at Evie. I have no desire to go to the ruins, either.” She switched her gaze to Captain Gilbride. “If you want to know the truth, they're a dead bore, and certainly not the way
I
want to spend the day.” Her tone clearly indicated she found the captain a dead bore too.

“No one is interested in your opinion, Eden,” Mamma said in a severe voice. “Evelyn, I will not have you spending the day locked up in the library with Mr. Beaumont, conspiring over that dreary charity of yours. For one, it's not healthy. For another, I don't approve of your associating with the type of unsavory and dangerous characters frequenting that part of the city. I've been meaning to talk to your father about it for an age, and I intend to do so as soon as possible.”

Evie could feel Michael stiffen beside her. His reaction was understandable since Mamma's tone and expression made it clear she considered him one of the unsavory characters lurking around St. Margaret's.

“Mamma, that's unjust,” she blurted out, her anger on Michael's behalf pushing her to respond. “Mr. Beaumont and I are doing wonderful work in St. Giles, and it's unfair to suggest otherwise. And I have no intention of giving up my work, no matter what you or Papa might think.”

Her mother's gasp of outrage hissed through the awkward silence that had fallen over the breakfast parlor.

“Now you've done it,” Eden murmured under her breath.

Already regretting her outburst, Evie cast a shamefaced glance at Will and Gilbride. But Will wasn't paying any attention to her or to Mamma. Instead, he studied Michael with a sort of focused interest, as if Michael's reaction to the ugly family scene was the only one that mattered.

“Well, this is a pickle,” Gilbride said. “My dear Lady Reese, I do beg your forgiveness. It was foolish of me to assume that the ladies and Mr. Beaumont didn't already have plans for the day. I'm happy to postpone our outing until a more convenient time.”

As upset as Evie was, she couldn't help noticing the captain's Highland brogue had disappeared—again. More to the point, his smile was so ruefully charming that even Mamma would have trouble withstanding it. Evie added thanking Captain Gilbride to her mental list of things to do that day.

“Not at all, my dear sir,” her mother replied, unbending a bit. “I entirely support your idea to visit the ruins. As soon as I'm finished with my tea, I will instruct my housekeeper to have a picnic lunch made up.” She leveled a stern glance in Evie's direction, one that said
and I'll deal with you later
. “The girls can be ready to go within the hour.”

Eden let out a dramatic sigh. “Mamma, if Evie and Mr. Beaumont don't wish to go . . .” She trailed off when their mother's eyebrows crawled up her forehead.

“I think it a delightful idea,” Michael said in a cheerful voice. “A lovely day such as this is not to be wasted.” He nodded politely across the table to Gilbride. “Thank you for suggesting it, sir. I can't remember the last time I went on a picnic.”

Gilbride looked startled but quickly recovered. “Capital! It's all set, then.”

Mamma blinked several times, obviously torn between relief that she'd gotten her way and annoyance that it was Michael who'd smoothed things over.