Veiled in Blue (33 page)

Once she’d recovered from the shock of finding so many people in her bedroom and realizing the dampness she lay in was not a part of her disordered dream but a pool of blood, she had remained the most steady person in the room. A near shave with death could do that.

The shouting was something else, until Julius had risen from the bed and demanded, through his teeth, that everybody leave except his manservant and his brother. Since he’d given no heed to his nudity or his mother’s protestations for him to cover himself, they’d done so in short order.

Now, pampered and cosseted, Eve sat in an indecently luxurious but softly draped gown next to Julius, who seemed to be having difficulty releasing her hand.

“Are you sure the journey will not overset you, my love?” he asked for the umpteenth time.

She shook her head, trying not to show her weariness. He insisted on leaving that very day. They would reach Chatsworth before nightfall, where the duke would give them a bed for the night, and then travel on toward Hampshire in the morning. Julius would not rest until they had shaken the dust of the Abbey from their shoes, so she had smiled and told him she would be glad to. He needed to leave and give her a severe cosseting, so she would put up with any discomfort for his sake. That was what loving couples did.

Lamaire had disappeared, another concern for Julius, who had set queries in train to discover him. The valet had undoubtedly saved Eve’s life, but after revealing he had a perfectly functional command of English, he had calmly set out for the kitchens and promptly left the house. Nobody knew when or how, but the household had been in such uproar after he had announced the Countess of Winterton had been shot that nobody could be very surprised at the circumstance.

Downstairs, the servants’ hall had erupted into a mass of people rushing about like headless chickens. The Duchess of Kirkburton had been obliged to go downstairs and command order, since her husband told her he was busy elsewhere, namely, supporting his daughter-in-law.

The remainder of the guests had agreed to an informal breakfast and lingered, ears flapping for any juicy gossip. Despite the uproar, Julius remained steady and in control, issuing orders with a cool air of command that reminded anyone who might have forgotten he was the next master of the Abbey and as such, his word was law.

“If you carry me to the carriage, I will object,” Eve said. “Strenuously.”

Julius favored her with a warm smile. “If you do not lean on me, heavily, I will carry you.”

Eve knew when she was beaten. “Very well,” and added, with emphasis, “my lord.”

Triumph warmed her when he gave a sharp bark of laughter.

Her mother frowned at her. She had decided to remain here, a wise decision in the circumstances. She wanted her husband to herself. Except for Caro, of course, who would accompany them, travelling in her own carriage with her nursemaids and attendants. Caro had pouted at Julius’s decision, but despite her pleading, he had remained firm.

Eve had not asked her husband to put her above his daughter, but this tangible reminder of what he told her melted her heart. She could not deny a little peace and quiet spent in her husband’s arms would do her more good than any amount of physic. A small child would not increase her comfort.

Augustus entered the room, frowning mightily, and gave the ladies a perfunctory bow. His dark red coat strained over his shoulders, as if his muscles were longing to free him of the constraining cloth. “I’m afraid your errant servant is nowhere to be found, and his horse is missing from the stables.”

“I had no notion he had a horse,” Julius responded.

“It might be one of yours,” Augustus conceded, “But I assumed you did not want him taken up for horse theft, after his service to you.”

Julius gave a decisive nod. “Of course. Let it be. But I would like to know where he went.”

“As would we all.” Augustus glanced around and found a chair. Only Eve’s mother and Julius remained in the room now, after the invasion of so many people wanting to see for themselves Eve’s injury was minor. The shooting would start later the following day, the duke making the great concession that the house was in too much disturbance for them to commence today. The guests had plenty to occupy them.

Augustus heaved a heavy sigh. “At least there are no potential brides in here.”

Julius chuckled. “Setting their sights at you, are they, dear brother?”

“Precisely. Two kinds of hunting are taking place in this house. Game birds and husbands. When I arrived I recalled you telling me they were here for you. Now you’re out of the picture, you’ve put me dead in their sights.” He nodded at Mrs. Merton. “Present company excepted, of course.”

Eve suppressed a snort as Augustus took on the unmistakable appearance of harried prey. If he’d had long ears, they’d be flattened against his skull. “Thank you, ma’am. Much appreciated. However I fancy I will take my leave before the end of the week. I do not hunt, and I have no desire to become the hunted.”

“What will they do?” Julius mused.

“Tear each other to pieces, I imagine,” Augustus said. He waved a hand. “In any case, it’s no concern of mine. I merely came to assure myself you were on the mend, Eve.”

“I’m fine,” she said, having repeated the same sentiment many times before during the course of the morning. “I’ll do.”

“What about Helena?” Julius demanded. “She is refusing to come with us. Will you take charge of her?”

Augustus raised a brow. “I doubt she will need me. She says she’ll be fine here, for the time being, and she promises to withstand any blandishments our mother might throw her way. Likewise, commands.”

“I have a mind to settle an annuity on her,” Julius said. “She has her portion, of course, but that is set aside for her marriage. My only fear is she will choose to live apart from us all and dwindle into spinsterhood. She deserves better.”

“She does.” Augustus twitched his neckcloth. Although not as well dressed as Julius, Augustus still made a fine show, although he appeared uncomfortable in his formal coat and waistcoat and snowy white linen. Every now and then he fidgeted, as if trying to get comfortable. “But if that is her choice, she should be allowed the freedom to make it.”

Julius paused, the silence in the room complete before he spoke. “You’re right. I have never considered the matter before. What if she wants to be alone? I will make arrangements for a suitable annuity. She may do as she wishes with it, so long as she doesn’t give it to our mother.”

“You can make that a condition of the gift,” Augustus said. “You underestimate our sister sometimes, Julius. Given the right weapons, Helena is perfectly capable of coping with most obstacles thrown in her way.”

Augustus was repeating ideas Eve had, but had not broached with Julius yet. Helena did not appear to her to be the kind of helpless female who needed a man’s support every inch of the way. Maybe Julius had grown used to caring for her. She kept still, unwilling to affect Julius’s decision. Unless he made the wrong one, of course.

“Do you plan to stay in England this time?” he asked now.

Augustus frowned. “Not if all the hounds of hell were after me. My work is nowhere near done. I came home because every now and then I have to. Now I’ve done my duty and congratulated you on your nuptials, I’ll be on my way.”

“In the summer?”

“I’ve travelled in worse conditions.” Augustus shrugged.

Eve recalled something Augustus had said. “You wanted to meet with us, did you not?”

“As I am doing.” That crease appeared between her brother-in-law’s brows once more. “Ah, there was something else, but I daresay it is nothing. It can wait. A small matter I wanted to clear up before I went on my travels.”

“If it’s a small matter, we might as well clear it up now,” Julius pointed out. He leaned back, crossing his legs at the knee. “Out with it.”

“Very well. It was merely a confusion of dates. In the documents I discovered in Rome, there was mention of the children.” He glanced at Eve’s mother. “I take it you are aware of the whole situation surrounding Eve’s birth?”

The lady gave a regal nod. “Naturally.” Her jaw tensed, as if she were gritting her teeth.

Augustus spread his hands. “I like everything precise, details in order. The confusion probably lies with the haste with which the events emerged. I have records of two more children. Perhaps, but the document is hand written by one of Maria Rubio’s servants and could be forged or mistaken. I will of course furnish you with a copy before I leave. The other children, the ones you have discovered, are listed. Since the letter is damaged, torn in several places and worn with age where the paper was folded, it is difficult to interpret, but the letter seems to list Eve’s birth as January and not August.”

Mrs. Merton’s sharp gasp interrupted him. Muffy, who had behaved impeccably since he came to the Abbey sprang to life, jumping up and placing his paws on his mistress’s lap.

Augustus watched her, as did Julius. At times like these, the similarities between the brothers grew more apparent—the perceptive, sharp blue eyes, the inherent power, leashed in Julius’s case, carelessly displayed in Augustus.

“You have something to say, ma’am?” Julius said.

Tears gleamed in Eve’s mother’s eyes. She swallowed heavily before she spoke, then sat up straight. “I decided to let matters lie after my husband died,” she said, explaining nothing. “But I needed—oh, I know I have done wrong! I never meant matters to go this far!”

Although tears ran unchecked, nobody rushed to help her. Julius tensed, his hand tightening around Eve’s. “From the beginning, if you please, ma’am.”

Mrs. Merton turned her attention to Julius and gazed at him. She swallowed once more and groped in her pocket for her handkerchief. After dabbing away the wetness, she closed her eyes, and breathed deeply, her bosom rising and falling rapidly. She opened her eyes and met Julius’s gaze directly. “I will tell you the truth, although I do not know what we will do after.” She flicked a glance at Eve, her eyes guilty, and then turned her attention back to Julius as if nobody else existed. “You know most of the story now. How we went to Rome and took charge of a baby girl.”

“We do,” Augustus murmured.

She ignored him as if she had not heard him. “We balanced the sin of lying against the sin of leaving the baby to certain death.” She spared Eve another glance. “But I had fallen in love with the mite. I wanted her, could not bear to think of her death. That much you know.”

Julius nodded, his mouth tight.

“What you do not know is I was pregnant, but so early in my pregnancy I did not realize it until a month after we had agreed to take the baby girl. I gave birth in July, in France. My baby was robust and healthy but despite our care, the baby we took charge of sickened and died. We gave the baby the same name as the dead child. And when I had recovered, we came home.”

“Why did you not record Eve’s birth as earlier?” Augustus said.

“I could not bear any more lies.” Eve’s mother clasped her hands tightly together, the skin turning white under the pressure of her fingers. “I saw the death of the baby as punishment. I wanted to tell them, to send a letter, and to return the money they had given us for the child’s care. I had not known it, but Maria Rubio had given my husband a considerable sum when he told them he was nothing short of indigent. I insisted he gave me the money, so I could return it. But instead, I bought an annuity.”

She lowered her head. “I wanted it for a dowry for you, Eve. The lawyer drew it up so my husband could not touch the capital. He said that was normal in such settlements. I do not know, but even then I welcomed it, because I had realized my husband’s inability to handle money. When he died, he left us penniless. If not for the money from the annuity, we would have all starved.” Tears were dripping off her nose, but she made no effort to use the handkerchief crumpled in her lap.

Eve swallowed. “I would not have had you go through this for anything, Mama. You did what was right.”

“I did not!” Her mother lifted her tear-ravaged face and confronted her daughter. “I should have told them their baby was dead, instead of passing you off as her for so many years. I did not want to tell you, but you found out, and I let you believe it. I should have told you the truth, but the knowledge you were more than people thought you gave you the confidence you so lacked. Without that, you would never have held your head up in Appleton society. You would have shrunk away. And Eve, you are so beautiful that would have been a crime.”

“Another point on which we agree,” Julius said.

Although he sounded perfectly steady, Eve detected a note of concern in his voice. Immediately she turned all her attention to him. “Does the news bother you? Does this make our marriage invalid?”

“By no means,” he said. “In any case, I will marry you as many times as I need to if there is any doubt. I married Eve Merton. You are still that woman. The date of your birth is accurately recorded. That you had a foster sister you knew nothing about has no effect on the matter.”

He was right. Her mother’s slip in recording her true birth date instead of the feigned one had put everything right.

“I stole from the Stuarts,” her mother moaned now. “I have caused this. I had no idea people would come after you. They gave us a copy of the marriage lines, but what are copies? Anyone could have drawn that up. It was enough for me that you—your sister—was in danger. For the rest, I cared not.”

Eve believed her. Her mother had done what she thought was best. “Where is the baby now?”

“Buried in an obscure churchyard in France.”

“Under what name?” Augustus rapped out.

Mrs. Merton lifted her chin. “Eve Stuart. The name of her death is accurately recorded. I left a letter and copies of the documents with the priest. We had the baby interred under Catholic law. That seemed appropriate, since she was born into that faith.”

“I want details,” Augustus said.

Julius sent him a smile. “You see, Augustus is my secret weapon.”

“I’ll tell Val before I leave,” Augustus said. “He can tell the others. I’ll pay a visit to the churchyard and get the relevant documents. Then you may let the truth be known.” He turned a glare on to his brother. “You, Julius, are no longer directly involved. Your duty is to your wife, the daughter of a country vicar.”