An Unlikely Alliance (8 page)

"Whist? However are we going to keep an eye
on them, if we're playing games the entire time?" Evelyn put her
hands on her hips, drawing Royce's eyes down the long slender line
of her body.

"I…" He was a complete blank.

"You what?" she invited.

Royce wasn't sure what had come over him,
but in the morning light with the sun beaming down on Evelyn's
face, he was certain he had never seen a more beautiful woman in
his life. "That is to say, I think if they try to make a run for
it, we'll notice."

Evelyn seemed satisfied with his response
and sat on the blanket, exhaling loudly. "So, when are they
coming?"

"Right about now." Royce pointed across the
lawn to both of their parents, slowly approaching hand in hand.
They laughed as they settled beneath the tent and smiled
sickeningly at one another whilst a servant poured wine for
them.

Not wanting to be outdone, Royce pulled out
his own bottle of wine and poured glasses for Evelyn and him. When
he was finished, he took out a deck of cards and began shuffling.
He yawned once, suddenly realizing how utterly exhausted he felt.
Shaking the tiredness from his head, he rubbed his eyes and took a
healthy gulp of wine.

"You're tired." Evelyn shifted towards
him.

"Maybe." Shrugging, he put down his wine and
leaned against the tree.

"Why don't you close your eyes for a bit?
I'll keep watch."

Royce rolled his eyes. "And go down in
history for the worse adventure partner ever? No, that's okay. I'll
stay awake."

"Suit yourself."

****

Minutes later Royce was asleep. Evelyn
watched as his eyes became gradually heavier and heavier, knowing
for certain he would fall victim to sleep soon. Finally his
breathing deepened and he slumped against the tree.

That was when Evelyn finally realized how
tired she was as well. "Might as well close my eyes a bit," she
said out loud as she glanced at her daddy's picnic. They weren't
going anywhere soon. It couldn't hurt to take a little catnap. She
was a light sleeper. What was the worst that could happen?

Evelyn slept so hard, she didn't even dream.
A loud crash woke her from her sleep. Panicking, she looked around
and noticed the servants taking down the tent. And then she heard
laughter.

"'Don't worry, Royce! I'll stand guard!'"
Royce's voice mocked from behind. "You stood guard, all right. Just
how long did you wait after I fell asleep before you decided to
take your little nap, hmm?"

Evelyn felt her face flush. "It wasn't on
purpose! And you looked so peaceful, and they were just sitting
there! You weren't even supposed to fall asleep, Mr. 'I don't need
sleep, I am a man.'"

Royce shook his head. "We lost them, and now
we have no idea where they went!"

"Course we do." Evelyn pushed off the grass.
"They're going to the ball tonight, and so are we." She held out
her hand to Royce and waited. He grasped it and didn't let go the
entire way to the house.

Evelyn didn't want to read too much into
their prolonged contact, but then again, she was already falling
head over heels for the man against her better judgment. They had
shared kisses but never held hands. It almost seemed more personal
to her, more intimate.

Royce picked a daisy and handed it to her,
causing another familiar blush to creep up her cheeks. "I will be
back around half past eight tonight, my sweet. Does that suit you?"
He opened the back door and ushered her inside. As she passed him,
she could feel the heat radiating from his body. All she wanted in
that moment was to fall backward into his arms.

"That should be just fine, although the ball
isn't until nine. Why so early?"

Royce grinned wolfishly as his lips became
dangerously close to hers. "That is for me to know and you to find
out. I'll see myself out. Good afternoon, love." With that, he
tipped his hat and marched out the door like a man on a
mission.

Foolishly, Evelyn couldn't help but wonder
if that certain mission had something to do with her.

****

He was going to marry her. The silly grin he
had been wearing for days was still cheerfully plastered all over
his face for the world to see. For the first time in his life,
Royce didn't care. He had found the one woman who set his passions
aflame and who wasn't afraid to give her opinion or order him
about.

It was marvelous.

And she was going to be his.

Unfortunately, planning ahead had never been
one of his strong suits. He knew he had limited time to purchase a
ring and even more limited time to talk with Mr. De Jarlias. The
sooner the better.

Rushing to the shops, he stopped when the
ramifications of his actions hit him square in the chest. He was to
be married. A wife! And it would be soon!

A sickening feeling erupted in his stomach,
almost making him stop to relieve it of its contents. He had to
tell Evelyn of his past. Granted, she probably had heard enough
gossip from others to develop her own ideas; then again, she hadn't
known about his two mistresses. The two mistresses whom he had seen
at the same time on the same night not so long ago.

How could he have been so foolish and
selfish? It was hardly an excuse, but he had been walking around in
an emotional haze for the past year since his father's death. No
sin of the flesh had helped him. He had always hoped it would. An
idiotic idea. To think he could fill the one gaping hole in his
heart that only love could heal.

Royce swallowed the knot of guilt for what
he had to tell Evelyn and took a step toward the house he used to
frequent the most. It was time to say goodbye to the women of his
past and move on with the one holding his heart—his future.

****

Surely her life had turned into a dream!
Evelyn danced around her room in fits of excitement as she thought
about the night ahead of her. He had a surprise for her! Suddenly
she was thankful for her daddy's wise words of not judging a book
by its cover.

Lost in a flurry of joy, she ran into her
room to find something suitable to wear for the Valentine's Ball.
It was to be a masquerade; although she had never attended one, she
heard they were wickedly fun and, at times, dangerous. Since the
masks hid people's faces, it was natural those wearing the masks
would become braver, doing things that otherwise, unmasked, they
wouldn't dream of doing.

Upon opening her wardrobe, Evelyn suddenly
realized she had nothing suitable to wear. The mask that had been
purchased for her by the modiste was plain—a word she didn't feel
adequately described the feelings she had at the moment. After all,
it was a celebration of love, and she felt she needed something to
show for it.

Royce would be back in a few hours. If she
hurried, she would have time to run down to the shops to find a
suitable mask and gloves to match. Hurriedly she searched for the
dress with the white and black lace and made a mental note to match
it with a white mask and black gloves.

Chapter
Twelve

By the time Evelyn was able to reach the
store, she knew she was short on time. It had taken awhile to
convince her maid to let her shop on her own, and even longer to
convince the driver that she was fine taking the carriage on her
own. Only two hours to get back to her house and prepare. Quickly,
she found what she was looking for. A beautiful white mask lay
before her. It had crystals lining the slits where her eyes would
be, and feathers laced the rest of the white material around her
face. It was perfect.

She purchased her mask and went on to the
glove shop further down the street. This particular street,
although still safe, was rumored to have several whorehouses in the
area. Something Evelyn was warned about by her daddy. Lucky for
her, the glove store was on the edge of the street, so Evelyn
wouldn't have to go all the way down to where the brothels lined up
in sad rows. If her daddy hadn't warned her of such things, she
would be clueless as to what the homes were used for. The only
thing that gave away their identity was the obvious location.

It made her feel odd knowing so much
debauchery was going on, and nobody did anything to stop it. Evelyn
shrugged off the feeling and reached out to open the door, when she
saw Royce coming down the stairs of a large house across the
street. She was just about to yell out his name, when a
scantily-clad woman ran out of the house after him, pulled him into
a tight embrace from behind and abruptly ran back up the
stairs.

Royce had the strangest expression of
elation on his face. Maybe the woman was a relation? Or a dear
friend? Though she was dressed rather…

And then with a sickening feeling Evelyn
realized the location of the house. It was identical to all the
rest, poorly lit, and on the same side of the street that her daddy
had warned her about.

It was a whorehouse.

The man she loved, who not even an hour ago
had given her all the hope in the world that he was a changed
man—better than she could have imagined—was a liar.

Gloves were the last thing on her mind. Her
first and foremost priority suddenly changed to escaping down the
street without him seeing her. Her heart pounded along with the
click clack of her heeled shoes as she hurried around the corner to
her waiting carriage and driver. She climbed into the carriage
without waiting for assistance, her chest heaving. She waited three
full minutes before breaking into gut-wrenching sobs, ruining any
chance of having a beautiful face instead of puffiness tonight at
the ball.

How could he? Did she mean nothing? Was it
all a game? It had seemed so real, so perfect. It didn't make
sense. Was it because she was a woman of virtue? Not throwing
herself at him like those other cheap women did?

It infuriated her all the more because they
made her want to check her own morals and ethics. He brought out
such feelings of desire she would willingly throw caution to the
wind and give herself to him. Thank God she hadn't.

Her legs were trembling still when the
carriage pulled up the drive to her home. A grief-stricken haze
seemed to choke the breath out of her until she was certain she
would pass out. The driver had to physically lift her out of the
carriage and walk her up the stairs. When Evelyn reached the door
to her house, she desperately tried to wipe away any evidence of
the tears, lest her daddy be home and wonder what had upset his
little girl.

Evelyn straightened her shoulders, and she
went inside. She was immediately relieved to find nobody was around
to question her emotional instability. Legs like lead, she climbed
each individual stair until the door to her bedroom faced her.
Still shaking, she turned the knob, walked in, slammed the door and
slumped against it, allowing herself to slip to the floor,
considering ways to mend her broken heart.

****

Royce hadn't realized how much his life had
taken a downward spiral until he approached his past. He had always
visited such establishments in the dark and slightly foxed. In the
daytime, totally sober, the houses where his mistresses lived
seemed like the pits of Hell itself. Had he momentarily lost his
sanity to have come to a place like this seeking pleasure?

Why hadn't his mother knocked some sense
into him? Pulled his own pistol on him? Refused to let him run the
family businesses? He hadn't deserved her love, nor did he deserve
anyone's love or forgiveness now. But Evelyn gave him strength and
the desire to want more for himself. To actually want a future
without the sins of the past making black marks on his and Evelyn's
life together.

It was the best decision he had ever made in
his life, to face the demons of his past, even if it meant facing
his many sins. Which is exactly what it was. Upon entering the
house, he immediately noticed the smell. Must and sin seemed to
literally drip from the walls, repelling him instantly. As he
continued his journey down the hall to the rooms he used to
frequent most, he couldn't help but notice the women, lounging
around, looking as if they had been beaten all night.

During the usual hours, the women were
drinking and dressed to entice. Now looking at them, they seemed
old and worn. Like they wanted to run but had nowhere to run to.
Keeping his eyes downcast, he walked into the last room on the left
and cleared his throat.

He repeated the same speech twice. To two
different women. He apologized for his behavior. And even offered
them jobs at reputable hotels where they could become maids if they
so desired. Neither women said much, but Sheila in a fit of sadness
ran after him and grabbed him from behind when he was just outside
the establishment. He turned to face her and gave her a small
embrace before leaving his past behind him.

The air suddenly smelled fresh, clean,
new—he walked down the stairs with a purpose. He was going to
propose to Evelyn tonight. If she would have him. And he hoped to
God she would. For now, she held every piece of his mangled heart
and had the capability to destroy it with her refusal.

Chapter
Thirteen

When Royce reached the steps to Evelyn's
home, he was as nervous as a little boy on his first day of school.
By the time the irritated butler opened the door, he was certain he
would throw up all the contents of his stomach. And by the time he
was escorted into the sitting room, he was ready to down every last
bottle of homemade moonshine in the house.

It was calling out to him. Whispering sweet
promises of calming his nerves, just as he heard a feminine voice
call out his name. "Royce."

He closed his eyes and savored the honeyed
sound of her Southern accent. Would it be terribly rude to get
married on the morrow? On Valentine's Day?