Jeweled (36 page)

Her knock on the front door revealed Dora’s smiling, round face. Her expression went blank for a moment, then registered recognition. “Are you here to see Lilya?”

Evangeline forced a smile. “If she’s not busy.”

“I think she is.” Dora ushered her inside. “But I can put you in a waiting room and she’ll come to you when she can.”

“All right.” She walked into the cheery, posh interior with her bag in hand. She hoped Lilya would let her stay here tonight; otherwise she wasn’t sure where she’d go. Luckily, though, she felt strong enough to manage any challenge that came her way. Being pushed out of Belai and being forced to stand on her own two feet had done her good in many ways.

All the people in the thronged sitting room paused to look at her. Evangeline’s cheeks heated as her gaze flitted to all their faces, half looking for anyone she knew.

“There’s a pretty one,” said one man to another. “With any luck she works here, too.”

Evangeline let her gaze linger on the speaker, a tall, not unhand-some man in his mid-thirties. If she worked here, this was the type of man she’d have to entertain. Could she do it? Could she really allow another man to touch her after Anatol and Gregorio? She imagined the stranger’s hands on her, his mouth kissing her.

No
.

The answer was no. She was done with men forevermore if they weren’t Anatol or Gregorio.

Dora stepped into her line of sight. “Come this way.”

Grasping her bag firmly, she turned and followed Dora up a flight of stairs and into a small room that held a couch, two chairs, and a table with a small clock.

Dora moved toward the door. “You can stay here to wait for Lilya. Would you like anything to drink?”

Evangeline shook her head. “Thank you.”

Dora closed the door behind her, leaving Evangeline alone with the ticking clock. She set her bag down beside a chair and sank onto the couch. She was exhausted from the trip back from Cherkhasii and her bones melted like butter against the softness.
Tick, tick, tick
went the clock as she waited. Her eyelids grew heavier and heavier until she could no longer keep them open.

The next thing she knew, Lilya was gently shaking her awake. “Evangeline?”

Her eyelids opened to find Lilya’s frowning face an inch from hers. “Are you all right? What’s happened?”

Evangeline pushed up and looked at the clock. She’d slept for an entire hour and she hadn’t even been aware she’d drifted off. “Everything’s all right, Lilya. I’m sorry to disturb you so late.”

“You’re not disturbing me at all.” Lilya sank down onto the couch beside her. Evangeline noticed for the first time she was wearing a long, silk bathrobe embroidered with roses and her feet were bare. “And I know perfectly well that everything is not all right, or you’d be at home right now with your two men.”

Evangeline looked away, biting her lip at the sudden sting of tears.

“Evangeline.” Lilya put a hand on her arm. “What is it?”

“That’s just it. They’re not
my men
, Lilya. How could they be? They’re far too good for someone like me.” Someone whose own parents had rejected her.

“What do you mean? They love you. I would give anything to be loved by such men, Evangeline. You’re very lucky.”

She made a scoffing sound. “I can’t comprehend for a moment why they love me, Lilya. It’s like some magick spell that’s been worked on them. One day that spell will be broken. They’ll stop loving me. And then I will also be broken.” She shook her head. “I’m coming to love them too much. I can’t go through it again. The pain’s too deep.”

Lilya said nothing for a moment. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

Evangeline turned and looked at her. “I left them. I left for good and forever before something awful could happen. You don’t need to understand it, Lilya, you just need to be my friend.”

Lilya’s brows were drawn up above her pretty dark eyes. “I am your friend. You know that.”

“I’m glad because you’re the only one I have.” Evangeline smiled at her sadly.

Lilya studied her for several long moments, chewing her bottom lip. “Have you come because you want to work here? Evangeline, I don’t think that’s a good idea. You’re in love, and women in love . . . they don’t do well here at the Temple of Dreams.”

“You’re right.” She clasped Lilya’s hands in hers. “I could never give my body to any other man, not after Anatol and Gregorio. I just need a place to stay for a little while, until I get on my feet. I have my dressmaking business. I’ll be able to provide quite well for myself.”

Lilya blinked. “This is a mistake. Evangeline, they love you! Don’t run away! Don’t let your fear rule you! This is a bad decision and—”

“It’s
my
decision, Lilya. I know better what lies between myself, Anatol, and Gregorio than you do.” She paused, searching Lilya’s eyes. “Please. Let me stay here, just for a while.”

Lilya hooked a tendril of her hair behind her ear, her eyes glittering with tears. “Oh, Evangeline, you’re so lost and alone in this new life, aren’t you? Now you’re afraid of being even more lost and alone. Afraid of risking yourself in love.”

“With Anatol and Gregorio, I risk losing myself completely. I risk giving over everything I am and trusting them not to squeeze me to a bloody pulp. If they ever rejected me, I would be hurt so badly, lost so completely, that I would not survive.” She studied Lilya, thinking of the trip to see her parents, thinking of the crushing pain of her disappointment. “I don’t trust them not to reject me—”

“Because you don’t think you’re worthy of them,” Lilya finished for her with a sad little smile.

“Of course I’m not,” Evangeline answered on a breathless whisper.

Lily bowed her head and shook it, allowing a teardrop to fall into her lap. “I don’t agree with you. I think you’re making a mistake.”

“Lilya—”

She looked up, tears rolling down her cheeks. “But I understand. All right, of course you can stay here. Let’s put you in a room and let you sleep tonight. We can talk more in the morning, all right?”

Evangeline slumped against the couch in relief. She was so tired and overwrought. All she wanted was to sleep. “Thank you.”

Lilya touched her face. “You are a very good friend to me. Of course I’ll do all I can to help you.”

Evangeline grasped her hands. “One last thing, Lilya, I beg you to not send for Anatol and Gregorio.”

She blinked. “But they’ll come anyway. As soon as they realize you’re gone, they’ll come here. They’ll know immediately where you are.”

“Then deny them entrance. I cannot see them. I
won’t
see them. If I do all my resolve will vanish and I’ll be right back where I started with them—in grave danger. Please.”

Lilya said nothing for several heartbeats, then she nodded slowly. “All right. I’ll see you’re not disturbed. At the very least, I can see that you need some time on your own to think.”

“Oh, Lilya,” she cupped her cheek in her palm, “this isn’t a question of a few days alone to help myself think. I’m not going back to them. Not ever.”

 

 

Anatol knew she was gone as soon as he woke. The house felt cold of her riotous emotion, empty of her confused fire. He rubbed a hand over his face, fighting the grief of her loss and the pain it caused him to speculate why she thought she needed to run from them. Forcing himself to remain calm, he got up and dressed, then went to the room where she’d wanted to sleep alone.

Opening the door, he found Gregorio standing at the edge of the carefully made bed holding the nightgown he’d purchased for her last week. Anatol went to stand next to him, tamping down the flare of jealousy at the realization that Gregorio had tried to come to Evangeline early that morning for some alone time with her.

Well, there was nothing to be jealous about now. She was gone.

Gregorio fisted his hand in the material of the nightgown. “I told you we were pushing her too hard.”

“If we were going to lose her, we would have lost her anyway. She’s running scared because of what happened on the farm.”

“I want to go back and strangle that man with my bare hands.” Gregorio’s voice was a low growl.

“You’re not the only one, but taking our revenge on him won’t do Evangeline any good.” He paused and smiled slightly. “Though it would be satisfying.”

“Where do you think she went?”

“There’s only one possible place and you know it. Unless she left the city completely, but I don’t think she did that.”

Gregorio gave him a sharp look. “How do you know?”

He shrugged a shoulder. “I know her.”

“The Temple of Dreams,” he growled and dropped the nightgown to the bed. “The thought of a man other than you touching her makes me want to tear someone’s head off.”

“I don’t think she’ll be able to do that. Not now. She’s different now, changed. She might think she can take that life up, that it’s safe, something she knows, but she won’t be able to allow another person to touch her that way. Not after us.”

“You sound pretty confident about that.”

“I am.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“Me, too, because even though I might hide it well, I’d want to rip off heads, too.”

“I’m not letting her go, Anatol. How about you?” Gregorio started toward the door.

Anatol followed. “I’ve never have any intention of letting her go. Never will.”

 

 

Evangeline sat on the end of her bed with a long, gauzy pink gown that Lilya had given to her clutched in her hands and held to her bosom. She closed her eyes as voices emanated from the hallway beyond; Anatol and Gregorio asking to see her and Lilya telling them they couldn’t. Anatol spoke in his normal, low, level voice, full of reason and control. Whereas Gregorio, balanced on the edge of his bad temper, sounded ready to lose hold of his emotions.

She was riled by their presence and their voices. All she wanted was to run to them and never leave them, to give over every part of her secret self, sacrifice herself on the altar of love, and let come what may.

But then she remembered the farm, the stairs, the way her father had pushed her away, the fear and hatred in her mother’s eyes, and the way her emotions had shut down. She couldn’t do that again. So she closed her eyes, clutched the gown to her, and held on until they left, fighting the urge to go to them.

Lilya opened the door and Evangeline finally relaxed.

“They love you very much.” Lilya walked to her. “I would give anything to be loved that way by men as good as they are.”

She said nothing in response, only looked at the floor. Lilya didn’t understand, but she was a good friend to respect her wishes even so. Finally she looked up at her. “I know they’re the best of men. It’s what makes the risk even greater.”

“What will you do now?”

“Find a place to live, continue with my designs. I think I can make a living with the dressmaking. Eventually I’ll be all right.”

Lilya shook her head and smiled sadly. “No, you won’t. You’ll never be all right again.”

She closed her eyes. It was Gregorio in the street outside her window, bellowing her name. His emotion hit her right in the stomach. It was so strong that she sensed it without even trying; instead of reaching for it, it reached for her.

“
Evangeline!
” This time it was Anatol. His emotions nearly brought her to her knees. Rejection. Disbelief. Misery. “Don’t do this,” he yelled. “Remember what Gregorio said on the train. The only way you’ll ever lose us is by leaving us.”

She put a hand to her solar plexus and closed her eyes. Her instinct was to block their painful onslaught with magick, but how could she? She’d caused their emotional agony; it was only right she suffer it with them.

Lilya walked to the window to look down at them. “Don’t do this, Evangeline.”

“I have to do this now to avoid worse pain later.”

Lilya stared into the street at the men who still called for her. “How could this be any worse?” she whispered. “They love you.”

“And I love them.”

“Then go! Go to them, Evangeline! Stop this and accept what they have to give you.”

Evangeline squeezed her eyes shut against the seductiveness of Lilya’s suggestion. Anatol’s and Gregorio’s emotion pounded at her. She bolted from the bed, needing to get away—out of the room, maybe out of the house.

“Yes, go to them!” Lilya called after her, misinterpreting her action. Evangeline didn’t correct her; she just needed to get away from Anatol’s and Gregorio’s heartbreak for a little while so she could think.

She burst into the corridor and made her way toward the stairs.

Dora blocked her path. “Anatol and Gregorio are inside. Are you going to them?” She held a hand to her heart. “That was so romantic.”

“No.” She grasped Dora’s hands. “Where are they? I can’t see them right now. I—I need to—”

Dora squeezed her hands. “It’s all right. They’re in the foyer. Go downstairs, take a left, and go past the kitchen. You’ll find solitude in the lavender room.”

“Thank you.” She raced past Dora and traveled down the stairs to the lavender room.

Tears marked her face. She couldn’t stand knowing they were feeling so much pain over losing her. This was for the best, but it was the hardest thing she’d ever done.

Bursting into the lavender room, she skidded to a halt. There were two men in there. She frowned at them, confused. “Who are you?”

“Evangeline Bansdaughter?” asked the dark-haired one.

“Yes.”

An unseen person behind her slipped a burlap sack over her head.