The Book Of Scandal (19 page)

“Please, don’t let me interrupt,” he said, noticing her smile.

“Not at all,” she said, trying to bite back her smile without much success.

He walked to the sideboard, waved the footman away, and poured himself a cup of tea. “I owe you a debt of thanks, Declan.”

“You owe me two hundred pounds,” Donnelly said. “That’s twice in one week.”

Evelyn rolled her eyes heavenward and sipped from her teacup.

“Breakfast, my lord?” a footman asked.

“Thank you, but no. I dined earlier in my rooms.”

Evelyn choked on her tea. She could just imagine it: “Thank you, Kathleen, for untying me. Now be a love and have breakfast sent up…”

“For the sake of Lady Lindsey, I would that I had followed your lead, sir,” Donnelly said, and pushed away from the table. “If you will excuse me, madam, I shall leave you to your breakfast.”

“My lord! You’ve hardly touched your porridge!” Evelyn protested sweetly as he strode to the door.

“Good morning, all,” Donnelly said as he quit the room.

Nathan settled into a seat next to Donnelly’s vacated one and leveled a gaze on Evelyn…a very darkly sultry gaze. In fact, Evelyn slowly realized, she was squirming a bit.

“Enjoying yourself?” he drawled.

“I am sure I don’t know what you mean,” she said pertly. “Oh dear, Nathan, you look so fatigued! Did you not sleep well?”

Nathan ignored her cheeky smile and looked her directly in the eye, his gaze piercing hers. “I slept better than I have in years, darling, complete with one very vivid and very sweet dream.”

She could feel the color bleeding into her cheeks. “Indeed? I am astonished! One would think that given your condition, breathing might have been impossible, much less dreaming.”

If anything, his gaze turned even more sensual; she could feel it trickling down her body. The memory of him last night, his hands and mouth on her bare skin—

“Quite the contrary. Mine was an extraordinarily potent dream. I’m not entirely certain it wasn’t real.”

Evelyn had to look away. “Marvelous! I, on the other hand, hardly slept at all.” She abruptly stood. She felt hot in her gown; the fire was too bright in here, too high for such a close room. “If you will excuse me,” she said without looking at him, “I believe I shall start the refurbishment of your little hunting lodge today.”

“Evelyn—”

“Do not trouble yourself,” she said hastily, and glanced sidelong at him. He was watching her closely. He knew the truth about last night. She could tell by the way his gaze devoured her. Her feet were moving ahead of her mind. She was at the door before she realized it, her hand on the knob.

“Darling?” he drawled.

She reluctantly turned back.

He was smiling, a lustful, cocksure smile. “Thank you for taking such exquisite care of me last night.”

All right then, she had to be as red as the drapes now. Evelyn nodded curtly and strode from the room.

A hearty breakfast, a cup of medicinal tea, and Nathan felt renewed. He and Frances had the morning planned: They would ride down the east valley to see that the cattle had enough fodder, and then on to the cottage to check on some of their grafting. Milburn kept a close eye on the plants, but Frances had taken his responsibility for a pair of cuttings quite to heart.

Frances wore the buckskins Nathan had purchased for him in London. His father had given him a new game bag that Nathan attached to his saddle. They wouldn’t bag any game today, but Nathan finally convinced Frances that the bag could hold other important things as well, such as interesting rocks.

Frances was quite chatty and told Nathan about Evelyn’s visit to the cottage. He also spoke of a girl—Nathan supposed he meant a maid of some sort—but Frances seemed more impressed with the fact the girl knew nothing of botany, and that he had to teach her about the plants and grafts.

Frankly, Nathan didn’t hear much of what Frances said. He was thinking of Evelyn, of her body on his, the scent of lavender on her skin that made him feel almost desperate to have her.

Milburn was not about when Nathan and Frances entered the cottage, but it was obvious he’d been round today, as Nathan knew he would be. A fire at the hearth was reduced to coals, but the small cottage was quite warm. A pot still hung over the hearth, and the scent of rabbit stew lingered.

Nathan and Frances puttered about the table, examining the new grafting, noting in the ledger, Nathan with his bold strokes, Frances with his rough scrawl, the various changes in the cuttings and grafts they observed. After they’d finished checking on all the plants, and had put away the ledgers, Nathan ruffled Frances’s hair. “These will keep for a time, eh?”

Frances nodded.

Nathan looked at the boy, put his hand beneath his chin, and tilted his head back. “I need your help, Frances.”

“Aye, milord.”

“You must be patient for a time,” Nathan said. “I’ve quite a lot to keep me very well occupied.”

“What of the plants?” Frances asked earnestly.

“Milburn will keep a watchful eye on them and will notify us if there is the slightest cause for concern. But of course, you must check your plants as often as your father can spare you.”

The boy fingered one of the graftings. “But…what of the baby’s grave?”

“We’ll go by today and have a look. And then…” Nathan squatted down before him and put a hand on his shoulder. “And then I must rely on you, Frances. You are the only one I can depend upon to keep it tidy.”

Frances rubbed his hand under his nose as he studied Nathan.

“I can depend on you, can I not?” Nathan asked.

“Aye, milord,” Frances nodded solemnly. “Are you going away?”

“No, I’ll be here at Eastchurch Abbey.”

France’s expression was one of confusion. “Then why will you not come to work in the cottage?”

With a hand to the boy’s back to usher him to the door, Nathan pondered how to explain to an eight-year-old boy the sorts of things that only grown men knew. “It’s rather complicated, but the countess needs me just now.”

Frances seemed to accept that explanation. He pulled his hat down around his ears and shoved his hands in his pockets. “She’s still sad, isn’t she?”

Surprised, Nathan nodded.

“Then I’ll look after her baby’s grave,” he vowed.

“There’s a good lad,” Nathan said, and put his arm around the boy’s slender shoulders as they walked outside. “Would that I had a son just like you.”

T he cold air that had blown through the day before disappeared almost as quickly as it had come; the afternoon was pleasantly cool as Evelyn and Harriet visited the merchants in Eastchurch, ordering fabrics for draperies and carpets to replace those that could not be properly cleaned.

In the village green, a small monkey in a red coat hopped about with an upturned hat as a pair of musicians played a lute and a fiddle. Harriet was delighted; Evelyn gave her a few shillings and laughed as Harriet came nose to nose with the little monkey. To the delight of the crowd, he tried to snatch the ribbon from her hair—the green ribbon Evelyn had given her, she noted—and Harriet yelped with surprise, and laughed and laughed.

Several people gathered to watch the monkey; Evelyn stepped back to let them in. She was standing at the back of the small crowd when she heard someone call her name. She turned slightly and saw Alexandra DuPaul hurrying toward her.

Instinctively, Evelyn looked around for a polite escape, but of course there was none, unless she thought to cut her directly. She reluctantly turned to greet Alexandra.

She could see in Alexandra’s confused expression that she had detected her desire to escape. “Good afternoon, Alexandra,” Evelyn said as cheerfully as she could manage.

“Evelyn, I am so happy to see you in the village! I hope that means you are settling into life at the abbey.”

Settling into life at the abbey…Those words kicked up emotions like a cloud of dust inside her.

“I would be so honored if you could come for tea,” she added, a little too earnestly. “I should very much like to hear about your time in London.”

“Oh!” No, no, she couldn’t sit across from Alexandra and pretend all was well. Evelyn glanced at Harriet as she tried to think. The monkey was now sitting on Harriet’s shoulder. She tilted her head back to see if Evelyn was watching. Evelyn waved at her. “That…that is very kind of you,” she stammered, “but I…I have begun to refurbish the abbey, and that has me terribly occupied at the moment.”

Alexandra’s hopeful smile faded. “Yes, of course. Perhaps, then, when you’ve finished with the refurbishment?”

Evelyn nodded.

That seemed to appease her. “Oh, by the way, I have taken the liberty of inviting your parents—and the marquis and marchioness, of course—to a small supper party. I hope you won’t mind, but when I spoke to Nathan about it, he thought it a capital idea.”

Evelyn blinked.

“I have often hosted them while you’ve been away, you know—your mother was so good to mine before she passed—and I thought that you might enjoy seeing them. But you’ve just come home, and I realize you might not be prepared as yet to entertain, so I would be delighted to host. I told Nathan I’d send the details around to Benton. Does that suit?”

“I…I suppose,” Evelyn said uncertainly as her mind swirled around the astounding notion that Alexandra had invited her parents, and Nathan’s as well. Her mother had never mentioned dining with the DuPauls!

“Lady Lindsey!” Harriet called. Evelyn turned and waved again.

Alexandra looked at Harriet, then at Evelyn. “I won’t keep you.”

“It’s good to see you, Alexandra,” Evelyn said.

“And you, Evelyn. You look so…beautiful,” she said with a warm smile. She waved her fingers and began to walk away.

But Evelyn suddenly and strongly felt the need to know the truth—cold, hard, unaltered truth—and said, “No, what I said is not true.”

“Pardon?”

“It’s not good to see you, it is actually rather painful to see you,” Evelyn said.

Alexandra gasped.

“Alexandra…” How did she verbalize thoughts she’d had for years? “When Robbie died, I…I needed my husband, but he…he was with you,” she said, her voice shaking. “He was with you.”

“What? No, Evelyn!” Alexandra exclaimed. “Oh no, you have it all wrong.”

“Do I?” she asked sincerely. “I should very much like to know if I have it all wrong, because I saw you, both of you, walking arm in arm, or sitting in the garden so closely together, as if you were whispering poetry to one another. And sitting at the church chapel, just the two of you with heads bowed on…on the anniversary of my son’s death,” she managed to choke out.

“But I—”

“It’s all right,” Evelyn said, holding up a hand. “I wouldn’t begrudge anyone that, but the point I am trying to make is that I saw the way Nathan looked at you when I was near, as if I were intruding, and yet I could never understand how I could be intruding upon the two of you, time and again, unless…unless…”

“Evelyn, no!” Alexandra cried. “Oh my dear, my poor dear—”

“It was the worst time of my life, Alexandra, and I needed my husband. I needed him.” She caught a sob in her throat. “I needed him,” she said again, pressing her fist to her heart as a tear slipped from the corner of her eye.

“Evelyn. Oh Evelyn, you could not be more wrong,” Alexandra said solemnly, and put her hand on Evelyn’s arm.

“Don’t,” Evelyn said shakily.

“You must hear me, Evelyn. You are right—I spent quite a lot of time with Nathan after your son died. He is my dear friend and he was lost.”

Evelyn couldn’t bear to hear Alexandra describe her husband’s grief to her, and tried to turn away, but Alexandra gripped her arm, forcing her to hear what she would say.

“He was completely despondent. He’d not only lost his precious son, he’d lost his precious wife. He’d lost you. You were all he ever spoke of. You were the only thing on his mind when in my company. He worried about you ceaselessly, he felt inadequate to help you, and he didn’t know how to reach you. No one did.”

Evelyn could not have been more stunned if Alexandra had confessed to a torrid, passionate affair with Nathan. She was unable to believe what she was hearing. But Alexandra would not let go of her arm.

“It was always only you, Evelyn,” Alexandra continued. “I did nothing but lend an ear to him, and I would have done the same for you, but you…you never spoke at all.”

She couldn’t speak. It was true—God had taken everything from her but an indescribable pain when Robbie died. She looked heavenward and tried to blink back tears. “Alexandra, if you are lying to me now—”

“I would never lie,” she said heatedly, “and certainly not about something so terribly important as that. Oh, Evelyn, your husband loves you.”

“Stop,” she whispered as Harriet handed the monkey to a boy and started toward them. “Please stop.”

Alexandra saw Harriet approaching, too. She let her hand drop from Evelyn’s arm as Evelyn quickly dabbed her eyes. “Good day,” she said quietly, and walked on before Harriet could reach them.

Harriet watched Alexandra hurry away, then looked up at Evelyn.

“A friend,” Evelyn said with a thin smile, and wanted desperately to believe that was true. “Do you like hasty pudding?” she asked brightly. “I know a delightful little inn where the best hasty pudding in all of England may be had,” she said, and shakily wiped a tear from beneath her eye.

When Frances mentioned a girl in his recounting of Evelyn’s visit to the cottage, Nathan had believed it was a maid, but when he saw the girl emerge from the Ivy Inn with Evelyn, he was confused as to who she was.

He started toward them, but something gave him pause. If he didn’t know Evelyn, he’d think they were mother and daughter. They looked very close to one another, strolling along, engrossed in conversation. And laughing.

Nathan looked at the girl’s hand in Evelyn’s, and his heart did a funny little flip.

He’d forgotten what a good mother Evelyn was, how naturally it came to her.

“That’s her,” Frances said.

“Pardon?”

“She doesn’t know the least bit about plants, milord,” Frances added with disdain. “But she tries to pretend that she does.”