The School for Brides (15 page)
Read The School for Brides Online
Authors: Cheryl Ann Smith
Her stomach twisted at the familiar way he said “Charlotte,” and she whispered, “You know my mother?” She pressed her hands over her mouth.
The duke nodded. “She was a casual acquaintance of my father. I met her once in Hyde Park when I was a child. She was stunning and also kind. She allowed me to ride atop her coach with the coachman as she took a turn around the park. It was something my father would not allow.” He stepped close. “My investigator knows nothing of her identity. I made certain of it. Charlotte is safe.”
Tears welled in her eyes. She’d never known anyone who’d been acquainted with her mother when she had been young and vivacious. Eva had needed to cut all ties to her mother’s courtesan life to protect her and her fragile mind.
“She is ill, Your Grace,” she said weakly. “If anyone finds out the truth of her past, I don’t think she could bear the scrutiny.”
Nicholas clasped her arms and made her face him. There was no sign of thoughts of revenge or anger in his shadowed face; only compassion, and a touch of sympathy, as he bent until they were almost nose to nose. “You have my word, Eva. I will take her secret to my grave.”
Chapter Eight
H
ow could she trust this man? He’d set out to destroy her in spite of his current words to the contrary. The change in him since their night together was undoubtedly but a temporary diversion. Fevered couplings would not change the fact that the duke was ruthless and selfish and arrogant.
ow could she trust this man? He’d set out to destroy her in spite of his current words to the contrary. The change in him since their night together was undoubtedly but a temporary diversion. Fevered couplings would not change the fact that the duke was ruthless and selfish and arrogant.
“No matter what transpires between us, Eva, I will not betray Charlotte,” he said tightly, as if reading her suspicious thoughts. “To do so would be cruel.”
Eva nodded. “Thank you, Your Grace.”
Troubled, she backed out of reach.
“I should get back before the ladies grow concerned,” she said, looking away. She could not bear to see that vengeful devil duke in the face of the man who’d loved her so passionately for one magical night, and had held her tenderly while she slept.
She felt him watch her for a moment, and she reluctantly looked up to see his hooded expression. His posture was stiff and his jaw tight. A chasm had developed between them with his admission of knowing her mother, and Eva knew he felt it, too.
Nicholas nodded sharply and replaced his hat low on his head. “Good day, Miss Black.”
“Good day, Your Grace.”
Without another glance, he left her alone in the dark.
E
va returned home a few hours later, exhausted. She’d left the women at the school, buried in boxes of gowns and hats and gloves, and had taken the opportunity to slip away. They were happy to spend their meager funds on gowns, and Eva made sure each purchase was reasonable.
va returned home a few hours later, exhausted. She’d left the women at the school, buried in boxes of gowns and hats and gloves, and had taken the opportunity to slip away. They were happy to spend their meager funds on gowns, and Eva made sure each purchase was reasonable.
Her feet throbbed from endless hours standing, and she felt the strain of the day press against the backs of her eyes. Harold had said nothing to her all day, but a permanent scowl was present on his face as he drove them from shop to shop and helped them with their packages.
She wondered if he’d seen the duke enter the shop and suspected an assignation. Even if the meeting had led to a brief romp on the storage room floor, she owed him no explanation. As a grown woman, her decisions were her own. If she deemed it necessary to take a new lover each day for a week, it was her decision. She’d never asked about his romances, and he should not concern himself with hers.
“Do you plan to talk to me, Harold, or am I to live the rest of my days suffering under your brooding silence?” She stopped just inside the foyer and tipped her head up. His fair brows were nearly knitted together above his nose. “You might as well say your piece and be done with it. I cannot stand the infernal silence.”
“You are making a mistake,” he grumbled, and pulled his hat off. He crushed the narrow brim in one hand. “His Grace will destroy you, Eva. He will take and take until you have nothing left to give, then leave you as your father left your mother. What will you do then?”
“My father died,” she snapped. “It is not the same.”
“Is it not?” He took her elbow and steered her into the parlor. Once the door was closed, he turned to her. “He is using you for his own ends. Make no mistake about that, Eva. And once he has your heart ensnared, he’ll vanish without cause or explanation.”
“Mother and Father were in love, and he died. He died!” Ire rose in her breast. “I am not in love with His Grace.” It was the truth. She would be a fool to fall in love with a man like him. He was above her in wealth and situation. He would pluck a beauty from his own class and wed her. Eva was but a temporary diversion, and she had no grander hopes. “Nor will I ever be.”
“You deny it now, but what about next week, next month?” Harold scrubbed a hand along his jaw. It was several days since he had shaved, and the bristles were becoming pronounced. “Even were he to fall in love with you, he could not wed you. You know that.” He paced, and did not allow her to comment. “Would you be satisfied to accept the arrangement your parents had?” He shook his head and scowled. “I know you, Eva. Knowing you were whoring for him while his duchess waited at home would kill you inside.”
“How dare you say such an insolent thing to me?” she cried. “You have no right.”
“Someone has to,” he countered, and stalked about the room, his body tense. “You are under his spell and cannot see daylight.”
The frank words chilled her, and she crossed her arms around her waist and walked to the window. Clouds gathered in the sky and a light mist began to fall. The grayness of the day matched her brooding mood as she stared across the rain-spoiled yard to the street beyond.
She knew Harold was right, and in the moment, she hated him for knowing her so well. She also hated that he was her only real friend and that protecting her mother had left her so isolated from the closeness women shared.
How could a man understand a woman’s heart fully? How could she explain how those stolen moments with His Grace had made her feel alive for the first time in her life? She had shared passion with the duke without thinking about her mother or her courtesans or how she had to hide from her worries and fears every day. She’d been naked, both physically and emotionally, and strangely, she’d trusted His Grace that night with both her body and her heart.
“I will speak of it no more.” She felt sickened. Harold had turned her into a whore through ignorance and accusation. Though no money had passed between her and the duke, and there was no arrangement in place, she had bedded the man without a word of affection or the promise of a future between them.
Harold saw her as she refused to see herself. Was she a whore because she’d given in to temptation with His Grace?
In that moment, she began to understand her courtesans as she never had before.
She’d helped them, she’d taught them, she’d found them husbands, but as a virgin spinster, she’d never really known what drew so many women to choose, and stay in, that life.
The night with His Grace had taught her how powerful desire could be. And she’d wanted him so desperately with her body, if not her mind and heart. Even now, she longed to welcome him into her bed, to feel his hands playing with her, driving her to madness. She wanted to taste his skin, to feel him thrust into her with long, deep strokes. She wanted to listen to his heart beat beneath her ear as he slept beside her, her head on his chest, his arm tucked around her.
She wanted to take back the day he showed up on her stoop and erase him from her mind. She wanted not to see the disappointment in Harold’s eyes because she’d given her innocence to their enemy.
“You may not want to speak of His Grace, but I can see in your face that he has his hooks in you.” Eva looked over her shoulder as Harold grasped the door handle and turned to her. “Be careful, Eva.”
D
on’t forget Lady Pennington’s ball is Friday, and the Banes-Dodds will be in attendance.” Nicholas’s mother, Catherine, shuffled through a stack of invitations beside her breakfast plate. She divided them into piles based on priority, as she did every morning over strawberry pastries and overcooked eggs. “I’m sure Lucy is eager to see you again, dearest son. Several weeks have passed since you made an appearance at any function.”
on’t forget Lady Pennington’s ball is Friday, and the Banes-Dodds will be in attendance.” Nicholas’s mother, Catherine, shuffled through a stack of invitations beside her breakfast plate. She divided them into piles based on priority, as she did every morning over strawberry pastries and overcooked eggs. “I’m sure Lucy is eager to see you again, dearest son. Several weeks have passed since you made an appearance at any function.”
Nicholas lifted his head from the newspaper and frowned. Since the day he’d lost Arabella, his pursuit of Lucy Banes-Dodd had been lackluster. Hell, since the day he met Eva, she’d become his entire focus, raised to an obscene level after he’d taken her to bed. In fact, he could hardly recall the face of the pretty Lucy.
He’d been so intent on first punishing, then seducing, Eva that he’d allowed everything else in his life to fall by the wayside.
“Weeks?” He racked his brain for the last party he’d attended. It was the Wilksbury masque nearly a month ago. He’d gone masked and danced several times with Lucy, who was dressed as a shepherdess, and with several other potential duchesses. The evening had gone along pleasantly enough, but his mind wasn’t fully engaged in flirtation. He’d been in the midst of searching for Arabella. The evening had been distinctly forgettable.
He was often restless of late. The excitement of youthful entertainments had waned with his advancing age, and he no longer pursued the enticements of gambling and emotionless couplings with lovers whose faces he couldn’t recall the next day. Though he’d worked very hard to become the man his father wanted him to be, he knew there were certain things he would want to do differently.
“You’re distracted of late, love.” His mother’s curious green eyes explored his face. She dropped an invitation on the correct stack and leaned forward to better examine him. “Rumor has it you misplaced your mistress.”
Nicholas grimaced. He was the subject of gossip, again. It was a place he hated to be. But it was the curse of his class to twitter about things they knew nothing about. Scandal after scandal entertained society, and if none was forthcoming, stories were invented.
To have his proper mother mention his mistress at breakfast made him cock his brow. “I did not lose her, Mother. We have parted company. Amicably.”
Another face had replaced both Lucy and Arabella in his mind. A face he’d be well off to forget.
His mother didn’t need to be privy to such information.
Deep inside, he understood the feisty Miss Winfield was trouble, a thorn in his well-run life. If he wanted to regain some sanity, he needed to find another interest. Quickly.
“Then you have no plans to throw yourself from a bridge and end your grief.” His mother’s lips quirked.
He leveled a glare at her still beautiful face. Her dark hair had begun to gray, but her face was as lovely as ever. Men fell over themselves to speak to the wealthy and charming widow. It was her unhappy past that kept her from marrying again, and a steel spine that had kept her chin high when her marriage had crumbled. She was completely satisfied with her social functions and charities and raising her son.
It was his bachelorhood she fretted over.
“You can assure the gossips I have no plans to leap to my death from any high surface.” He’d never care so much for a woman that he would consider death preferable to losing her. He lifted the newspaper and scanned the page. “In fact, I will attend the ball, Mother. It is high time I return to society.”
A
young lady is at the door wishing to speak to you, Miss Eva.” Mother’s elderly butler, Edwin, cast a quick glance at the dough between her hands and up her arms. Eva took to cooking whenever she was troubled about something. It calmed her and allowed her to think through her problems. Today the loaves of bread would be plentiful.
young lady is at the door wishing to speak to you, Miss Eva.” Mother’s elderly butler, Edwin, cast a quick glance at the dough between her hands and up her arms. Eva took to cooking whenever she was troubled about something. It calmed her and allowed her to think through her problems. Today the loaves of bread would be plentiful.
He continued, “She claims she is some sort of relation, though she is tight-lipped about the details.”
A relation? Aside from her mother and some half sisters she’d never met, there was no one she could claim as kin. Mother’s family was dead, and Father’s was out of reach.
Curiosity kept her from sending the visitor away. “Settle her in the parlor. I will wash my hands and be right up.” Eva dropped the dough and cleaned her hands, her mind whirling. It was her month for strange visits. First His Grace, and now some woman claiming to be a long-lost relative.
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