Marriage to a Mister (A Daughters of Regency #1) (7 page)

"I see," said Evan. "And the lady said yes? She must have, or you would not have called her your betrothed."

"She did, though it was a near thing. I admit it wasn't one of my finer moments."

"What do you mean?" Nathan asked when Evan failed to.

"I ended up ..."

"Yes?" Evan asked impatiently.

"Well I ... I sort of swore at her," said Edward, wondering why he was telling his brother the embarrassing details.

"You swore at her? As you were proposing marriage?" Evan asked, a look of complete doubt on his face. "How is that possible? You don't even swear!"
 

"I became flustered. She was looking at me like she was about to faint, and before I knew it ... it doesn't matter."

"Right, about to faint, was she?" Evan said, rolling his eyes skyward before turning and throwing open the door to slam on the wall, startling the poor butler.

"Mr. Woolf? My apologies, sir, I didn't hear the bell or I would have —"

"Calm yourself, Higgins, you know my little brother never rings when coming home," Edward said, closing the door behind him.

"Higgins? Did I hear the door?" Lady Blackburn smiled and came rushing out of the side drawing room. "Edward? Evan? Why did no one tell me you had arrived, and with Mr. Carter here as well, really, where has Higgins run off to?"

"Mother," Edward leaned forward to kiss her cheek. "Don't be too hard on Higgins. Evan scared him off, as usual."

"Really, with the commotion you all were making, is it any wonder?" she asked. "I'd run too if I hadn't been married to the most maddening man in all of London for the last thirty-two years. As it is I'm used to it."

Evan watched as his mother's ever-discerning gaze found him, and he felt himself shrink under her scrutiny. "Really Evan, look at the state of your coats," she scolded. "Do I need to speak to your valet?"

"You know I don't keep one," said Evan, tired of the same old argument.

She eyed him again, and he stood his ground. "It is most improper for a man of your stature not to keep a valet, or at the very least a butler."

"Father doesn't keep one," he protested.

"No, your father can't keep one, there's a difference," she said, thinking back to how Higgins disappeared each time Evan came for a visit. "Though I am beginning to notice a startling sense of familiarity about the situation."

Evan sighed, needing to escape. To think about the news his brother gave him, not trifling matters of his home or the state of his clothes. "Mother, as much as I love you," Evan said, punctuating his sentence with a kiss to her cheek. "I believe I can take care myself. I've been doing so for the past twenty or more years."

"Yes, and you look like it too," she chided. "At least let one of the servants take your coat to be pressed for this evening. I've no hope left in me that you actually had planned to change for tonight's ball?"

His patience waning, he tried to control his voice. "You know I have already declined the Brockhurst's invitation."

"Oh, but you must be there, Evan, the entire family will be there" she said, darting a look towards his brother, "Edward, you have some news of your own, do you not?" she asked nervously.

Evan watched his brother shift his stance and clear his throat. "Yes, Mother, she has accepted."

Madeleine closed her eyes and released a shuddering breath. "Evan, I really must insist on your attendance. I was hoping to have a moment to speak with you, but we're to announce your brother's engagement tonight."

Evan returned her look, hurt evident. "I don't understand ... how any of this was decided without my knowledge."

Madeline reached for his hand. "Darling, you're never here —"

He pulled away from her, not letting her reach him. "I'll come to the ball, and do my duty to wish them joy, but I will excuse myself from the house party, if you don't mind?"

"Of course not," she whispered.

Her saw her hand fall back to her side as he made his way up the stairs leaving them behind. He could hear his mother apologizing to Nathan for his rude behavior, her voice shaking. He knew he had been awful to his mother, but he couldn't bring himself to care, not right then. He needed a moment to think.

He had not seen Lady Fleur in years, but yet he felt like Edward had no right to offer for her. No right to be her husband, and he wondered why he should feel so betrayed and shocked to hear confirmations of what he always knew would come to pass.
 

The duke had always preferred Edward, him being the heir presumptive and he, being the spare. But no, he knew that was not the truth and it was not fair of him. The duke had treated him with great fondness, until the terrible day he left. If only he had gone to the duke, instead of acting out like a spoiled child.

He also knew he must own to it, that he caused the rift between himself and the families. He'd run angry and scared, and when his temper and his resentment finally calmed into embarrassment and shame, he knew not how to return to them all. He still did not.

He remembered how he and Fleur would sit in the dark corner of the drawing room at night, chaperoned by their families but far enough away to talk about books they had read or the last goings-on in town. It was the only time he was ever interested in such subjects, when he was with her.
 

Now she was to be his sister, and he could not think of anything more heart-wrenching in that moment than she being Edward's wife. And now because of his foolish actions seven years ago, his brother, the man he looked up to more than anyone in the world, would bear the brunt of his ire without provocation. He despaired it would ruin them all, if he could not check himself, but he was not persuaded he would be able to hold the façade of a good brother.

Evan opened the door to the rooms he was always assigned when he visited his parents' home and took off his coat. He threw it on the back of a chair, the force flinging a silver object from his pocket that spun across the room before coming to rest on the floor.
 

Evan stood and stared, the reminder of its existence offensive and agonizing. Deciding to ignore it, he made his way to the attached bedroom and lay down upon the bed, trying to shift his melancholy. It wasn't long before he was asleep, a small frown marring his otherwise peaceful face.

BALL GOWNS & GOLD BUCKLED SHOES

Fleur raised her arms and worked a pin from her hair as she sat down at her dressing room table. She gazed at herself as she pulled out each one and laid them in a neat little pile, ready to be reused.

She could see Lucy, her lady's maid, carrying her sapphire evening gown and laying it across her bed as she continued until she laid the last hairpin down.

A knock came at the door. "Come in, Julia."

Julia walked in, her dress of heavy white silk slightly trailing behind her. Lace overlaid every inch and the bodice was beaded. A soft blue ribbon wrapped around under her bust and flowed down, floating behind her.

Fleur smiled, proud of the woman her little sister had become. "You look lovely. I doubt you'll want for dancing partners tonight."

Julia walked up behind her, looking herself over. "Thank goodness this is the last ball. I'm sick of wearing white, cream, ecru, and more white. It's not fair, you haven't worn white since the year before last."

Fleur laughed. "Well, I'm not exactly a new spring debutante. It would be odd for me to wear white still. Next year is your third year and you can wear more color as well."

Julia looked over to Fleur's bed, seeing the dress she had chosen. "Why do you not wear the emerald? You know you would look stunning."

Fleur winced. "I cannot believe I let you talk me into that pattern. It's much too ... bold."

Julia laughed, remembering the deeper cut of the bodice, stopping just before vulgarity took over. "The dressmaker did say it was all the crack for ladies these days, especially ones who, dare I say it, are no longer new spring debutantes."

Fleur glared at her sister. "Then I will give it to you for next season."

Julia laughed. "A hit, I concede. Though it would be futile, you forget next year you'll be off busy being married, and I'll be stuck under the thumb of Aunt Lizzy. She would never allow it."

"No,
you
forget, Julia, as a married lady next year I can sponsor you myself."

Julia squealed and bent to wrap her arms around Fleur's shoulders. "Would you? Really? Oh, please, please save me from Aunt Lizzy!"

Fleur laughed. "I thought you didn't like the thought of my being married. Suddenly you're for it?"

Julia stood straight and looked down to Fleur. "I'm still very angry at Papa, but Edward is a fine man," she paused, contemplating, a grin slowly forming on her lips. "And seeing as you and Edward have already kissed ..."

Fleur's jaw dropped. "Julia! That wasn't a kiss. It was a peck on the cheek. Besides he was mortified, and so was I."
 

"He was, wasn't he?" Julia laughed. "It was your birthday, remember?"

Fleur closed her eyes to the ghastly memory of that day and when she opened her eyes she looked at Julia, even if it was only in reflection of the glass. "Of course I remember."

She remembered all too well. It was one of the last memories she had of the brothers, and one of the worst. It was the day everything had changed for the two families, the day Evan left, and she had not seen him since.

"Fleur, are you well?" asked Julia.

She forced a smile, angry with herself for opening those memories. She turned to Julia, placing her hand on her arm. "I am."

Julia sighed. "You're thinking about him, aren't you? I don't need to ask, I know it."

Fleur removed her arm and spun back around in her chair. "Julia, not now, please."

Julia walked around Fleur's chair and knelt beside her, looking up into her eyes. "But what if ..." She bit her lip, unable to finish.

"What if?" Fleur prompted, knowing she did not like the turn the conversation had taken.

"Do you think he will be there tonight?"

Fleur tittered but her face grew pale. "Why would he come? Julia, he never does."

"Yes, I know, but tonight they are announcing his brother's betrothal. Don't you think there might be a chance? Even if slight?"

She tried to hold her hands steady as she folded them in her lap, trying to deny that Julia may be right.

"You go and finish getting ready," said Fleur, cutting off her questioning and dismissing her. "I'll meet you downstairs in just a moment, I promise." She smiled, trying to console Julia when she looked ready to argue.
 

Relieved that she didn't, she watched Julia nod and leave the room. Fleur sat still only for a moment before she stood and walked over to her bed and ran her hand across the blue lace of her gown. She blanched as she realized she had not even considered that Evan might be there. It would be perfectly natural, of course, if he made an exception and arrived that evening.

Her stomach flipped and she felt slightly warm at the thought. What if he spoke to her? Would she be able to bear him wishing her joy in marriage to his own brother? She wrapped her arm around her bedpost and laid her head upon the cool wood, closing her eyes, fighting back her emotions.
 

How was it that only the
chance
of speaking to Evan made her heart ache and mind race, when a proposal from a perfectly amiable and attractive man had not? Fleur shook her head, remembering Edward made her feel guilt and shame. Her thoughts should be of him, not Evan, and if he arrived tonight she would greet him cordially and that would be that.

Her maid walked over to her, lifted the garment, and heaved it over her head, and when Fleur emerged it was with a new frame of mind.

She owed her devotion to Edward, no-one else. He had come forward without hesitation to help her from an impossible situation and she was to be his viscountess, and one day his countess. People would be watching her, scrutinizing her every move, just waiting for her to blunder, and she had to do everything within her own power not to let them break her resolve.

She turned and looked herself in the mirror one last time and promised herself she would not give them one reason to doubt that devotion. She would forget Evan. She must.

***

Evan heard a knock in the distance, but as he awoke the sound grew closer until it had his full attention. He stretched and opened one eye carefully, then the other while he raised himself up. He rubbed his eyes and then glanced at the window and saw that it was night.

"Damn," he mumbled. "Enter."

Higgins walked slowly inside and Evan let his head fall backwards. He stared at the ceiling, annoyed. "What is it, Higgins?"

"Mr. Carter has arrived, sir, he says he is here to convey you to the Brockhursts' without delay."

Evan groaned, the news of that afternoon flooded his memory, and he took a deep breath before gathering himself, trying to relieve the pressure on his chest. He imagined going to the ball and standing off to the side of the room as his father announced the betrothal, only another spectator to wish them well. He couldn't bear it.

"You can tell Mr. Carter that I'm not going."

"Sir, Mr. Carter bid me ... I of course would never argue with your decision, but Mr. Carter ..."

Evan huffed and sat up straight, looking to Higgins. "Mr. Carter is a damned nuisance. Off with you, out of my rooms!" he shouted.

Evan leaned back, his head thumping on the headboard. "Damn," he said again. He sat for a moment, eyes closed until he again heard footsteps in his outer chamber.

"I thought I told you —"

"My, my, Evan, I know you never try very hard with your appearance but this goes above and beyond, even for you."

"What are you doing in here?" Evan asked, startled at Nathan's sudden appearance. He scrambled out of bed and stood on the other side as if to create a barrier between him and his friend. "Get out of here at once."

"No, I don't believe I will," said Nathan, shaking his head at Evan's unbelievable appearance. "Look at you. You're a complete ... are those pillow marks on your face? Evan, were you sleeping?"