The Duchess and the Duelist (Friendship Series Book 4) Page 4

  Asterly broke into her thoughts. “So Madame Harpy came looking for Freddy?”

  “Yes. Forgive me, but I took it upon myself to remove her from your house. She is so disagreeable. Crimm helped to send her to Lord Grieves’s bedside.”

  “Ah, yes, where our dear Freddy stands vigil. He would want to show respect. If I might make a suggestion?”

  “Certainly, my lord.”

  “Now that last evening is done and gone, would you prefer to travel to Marshfield and stay with Elizabeth and the twins?”

  Relief seeped into every pore, allowing Evangeline to smile. “Yes, sir, but only if it would be of convenience for everyone.”

  Asterly shook his head and replied with mock gravity, “You are far too obliging, ma’am.” When Evangeline ducked her head to choke down a laugh, he stood. “I shall write her immediately and ask.” He paused to tap the side of his nose and whisper, “And also encourage her to reveal where she has misplaced my smelling salts.”

  At the door, he said, “And Mrs. Merrick, you’ve done your duty for today and needn’t stay here. The sun is out. Call for your maid and go for a walk. If anyone else comes calling, Crimm will send them away.”

  She stared at the door for a long while, trying to muster the will to do as Asterly suggested and enjoy the sunny day. Outside, the wind was rising, but she liked its push and pull. Unable to summon the energy for exercise, she stared at the fire until it popped and brought her back to the present.

  Looking down, she rubbed her thumb over the silk-threaded initials in the white linen. Constant worry about Ned, wondering how he was, filled her with a weary heaviness. No one was around to see her chin tremble and the teardrop that darkened the cloth in her hand. With a shaky intake of breath, she rubbed the wet from under her eyes with the back of her wrist. She reapplied the needle, finding satisfaction in the elegance of the black silk thread against the linen’s stark white. One day, she would fold and tuck this into his pocket.

  Deep in concentration on her task and thoughts, she flinched and pricked her finger when the door opened. Crimm entered and announced, “You have another visitor, Mrs. Merrick. Viscount Grieves.”

  Chapter 6

  Startled by Crimm’s announcement and the identity of the caller, Evangeline removed her bloodied finger from her lips. After tucking her hand within the folds of her gown, she glanced at the slant of the sunlight coming through the window, then at the clock. Over an hour had passed while she sewed and mulled over heart-wrenching thoughts about Ned.

  She didn’t feel in a steady enough state to do battle with a stranger. Confusion clouded her mind as she tried to think of why a man so ill would rise from his deathbed to speak to her. Perhaps he blamed her for the visit from a rude duchess.

  However unlikely it might be that the viscount actually wished to speak to her and not her patroness, Evangeline set aside the needlework and stood. She received another surprise when Mr. Bates came through the door, his only preamble that of a quick nod in lieu of a bow.

  Quickly recovering, Evangeline curtsied. “Good day to you, Lord Grieves. May I extend my condolences on the passing of your cousin?”

  “He died last evening before I returned to his beside.”

  He studied her for a moment, the harsh blue of his eyes stark with emotions she couldn’t understand. Before she could think of something mundane to say, he said, “Would you ask the footman to leave?”

  After the door clicked shut, Grieves spun on his heel and went to the window. He used two fingers to push back the drapery edge and gaze out. She watched him, wary and curious, as he stared at the garden. Beyond the glass panes, the wind had intensified, thrashing the denuded shrubbery and tree limbs.

  Tension radiated from his posture. Muscles clenched and released along his jaw. He swung around and strode back to her.

  She curbed the urge to step back when he snapped, “Did that witch have the temerity to force her way in here and disturb you?”

  Blinking to recover from his vehemence, and the fact that his rage wasn’t directed at her, Evangeline said, “She did come here, Lord Grieves, to ask for your direction.” An awful demon seed she never knew she possessed snidely added, “Were you happily reunited with your intended?”

  His chin came up, accepting the hit with surprise and a glint of admiration in his hard gaze. For a moment, he stood utterly quiet, as if withdrawing inside himself to consider what had happened and formulate his next move.

  Evangeline gritted her teeth to negate the impulse to run when he stepped closer, so near that she had an eyelevel view of his neatly knotted neckwear and an opal-tipped pin above the edge of his waistcoat. This close, she smelled the subtle scent of soap overlaid with the crisp smell of starched linen.

  A tiny cut on his jaw showed where he’d been nicked during shaving. She curled her hand into a fist to halt the urge to touch the hurt. This was not a man to trifle with, but the unruly side of her nature dared her to taunt him again. Not wise. His chest rose and fell with deep breaths. She dared to look up and confront his narrowed stare.

  “Ma’am, was that meant to draw blood?”

  Averting her gaze, she replied, “Only the sensitive bleed.”

  “You have a sharp tongue.”

  Her upper lip tightened with the beginning of a derisive reply. She didn’t question the sudden rush of outrage. She’d been pulled in too many directions for one morning to tolerate more provocation, and something about this man stoked her spirit and shortened her patience. She had her father’s temper. Her mind whirled with the epithets he muttered in his native tongue. She ached to throw them in the face of this man but had to remember her place. Instead, she insulted him with her glare.

  Her fury burned brighter when his wide mouth curved into a knowing smile, the one that always made her muscles tighten. Then he calmed in a manner that suggested danger.

  Pleased and smug, he asked, “Are you jealous?”

  The truth in his question snapped the leash on her temper. “You dare to insult me by coming here to make vulgar overtures, when not minutes before you had conversation with the girl you will marry? I am not an adulteress, sir.”

  He stepped closer. “And I am not married.”

  “You are contracted and that is the same thing!”

  He leaned down to murmur against her mouth, “But I don’t want her, Evangeline. I want you.”

  The whisper of his breath over her lips awoke a traitorous yearning, had her rising up to meet him. Catching herself in time, she retreated and almost fell backward onto the couch. A strong grip on her upper arms stopped the fall. She tried to twist out of his grasp but couldn’t. He held her fast, fingers digging into her flesh, and yet his tight grip didn’t hurt. Another rush of frustration made her want to weep and strike out. The angry words she’d been holding inside for so long burst free in a muttered rant through clenched teeth.

  His low laugh silenced her tirade. “Evangeline, I speak French.”

  Chin up, she speared him with a squint-eyed glare. “Excellent! Then I do not need to translate that you are a disgusting, fornicating pig.”

  “That’s a cleaner version, but the gist of it.” He shook his head with amazed admiration. “How did you acquire the language of the Parisian gutter? More significantly, how have you managed to hide so much passion for so long?”

  Caution cooled her temper. This man knew Ned’s family. He’d visited with Edward prior to the wedding and had been invited to the ceremony. How could he not remember? Had the ceremony coincided with the trauma of his being jilted at the altar? If so, associated grief could be the reason why he didn’t recall her or even the event.

  But what if he did remember? What if he planned to get her to agree to an affair in exchange for his silence? He couldn’t know about Ned. There was no way for him to know about her son, unless he’d overheard something, somewhere.

  Her heart slowed to sluggish thumps from a sudden, shameful awareness. She knew where this line of thought led. S
he was only a breath away from allowing herself to be coerced into a dishonorable affair. Everything about him intrigued her in so many ways. Never before had she felt so strong a pull to a man. The intensity of her response came from the constant denial of her attraction. Even more shameful, she’d been ready to pacify her conscience with the excuse of securing his silence to protect her son. How could she consider casting off what was left of her honor to revel in the brief sop of a transient affair?

  He gently shook her. “Evangeline, where did you go just now?”

  Better judgment won out and straightened her spine. “Release me, sir.”

  “Not yet.” His features hardened. He slowly lowered his mouth to the side of her neck just under her ear. “I’ve been dying to do this.”

  Her world changed in an instant. Every fiber of her being felt the onslaught, an electric frisson of rippling energy and heat. Her eyes that had widened in shock became heavy and slid shut. Reality shrank to the place where his lips touched under her ear. The will to resist seeped away. It had been so long since she’d been held, cherished. She sank into the delicious languor of submission. Why deny this sweet pleasure? She couldn’t stop her body from sagging against his. Her head lolled back, allowing and inviting a slow exploration of her neck. Teeth carefully nipped, soothed by a kiss. His lips glided up to hover over hers, drew her closer. She felt the tremor of his restraint, then he became still against her, cold as iron.

  When his fingers tightened to the edge of pain on her upper arms, Evangeline lifted heavy eyelids. Her bleary eyesight cleared and she saw that he looked down at her with a fierce yet puzzled expression. His grasp gentled, and he stepped back, but continued to hold her, waiting until her balance was restored.

  After she carefully withdrew, he said in a low, gritty murmur, “I beg your forgiveness, ma’am.”

  She swallowed to find her voice, but nothing came out when she tried to respond. She looked everywhere but at him. A nod was all she could manage. The snap of the door latch made her flinch and sidle away.

  Asterly paused in the doorway. “I beg your pardon, am I de trop?”

  Evangeline jerkily shook her head, dipped a curtsey, and escaped. She was partway up the staircase when temptation halted her flight. She looked down over the railing at the closed door of the room she’d just fled. Lord Asterly had come to see her, but he hadn’t followed her out of the room. Curiosity pulled her back down the steps.

  She pressed an ear to the door, but straightened up when Crimm appeared. He raised his eyebrows in a silent question. She pleaded with her eyes. One corner of Crimm’s mouth twitched in a half-smile, then he bowed and continued down the passage. Evangeline again leaned forward to listen.

  Chapter 7

  Prepared for a dressing down, Freddy watched his friend stroll to the nearest couch and sit. When Asterly got calm, it meant he could be dangerous. He was as protective of his staff as he was of his friends and took his responsibilities seriously. They’d bonded at school more than twenty years before, and Freddy knew him well enough to tread with care. He took a seat across from his friend and waited for the first volley.

  When Asterly crossed a leg and lazily waggled a shiny boot, Freddy tensed. This was not good. Worse was Asterly’s silence, as he focused his attention on the removal of a non-existent speck on his sleeve.

  In a saccharine, mocking tone, Asterly inquired, “Under my roof, Freddy? Such actions could be perceived as an insult.”

  “You know me better than that, Peregrine.”

  “Do I? One tends to believe what one sees, and if memory serves, you had your way with one of Rave’s servants some years back. He had words with you on that score. Must we strain the tether of our friendship with similar behavior?” His gaze lifted, and Freddy felt the slice of warning in Asterly’s blue-green stare all the way down to his marrow. “Mrs. Merrick is under my protection, Lord Grieves.”

  Irritated by a combination of guilt and embarrassment, Freddy replied with more heat than caution. “Climb down from that tall horse, if you please. If I have offended you in any way, my apologies.” When Asterly didn’t respond, Freddy snapped, “In truth, Peregrine, I envy your position and would give anything to be her protector.”

  “Then find a way to extricate yourself from that marriage contract! When I realized the identify of that female, I shuddered to think of what poor Evangeline must have suffered in her interview.”

  “Mrs. Merrick is not as fragile as she looks. She flayed a layer of skin off me for reasons of her own…prior to my recent instance of ungentlemanly behavior.”

  That admission allowed for a draining, partial easing of inner tension. Freddy became aware of how tightly he gripped the couch armrest. He flexed his fingers and smoothed his fingertips over the slick material.

  “Believe me, Peregrine, I’m that lost that I’m beyond rationality.”

  Asterly uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his thighs. He studied his fingers, loosely entwined between his knees. He tapped his thumbs together as he thought. When he eventually sat back and looked up, Freddy was prepared for the verdict.

  “Freddy, Mrs. Merrick walks a very narrow ledge. Elizabeth loves her and has done what she can to keep her safe.”

  A prickle of unease crawled down Freddy’s back. “What do you mean?”

  “Elizabeth and I have promised to keep her secrets. What we know of them.”

  “Please, Peregrine, I mean her no harm or disservice. I’ve already promised myself that I would no longer inopportune her with my attentions. I can honestly say that I believe that she returns my regard. It is her own position and my contractual obligation that forces her to hesitate.”

  “Her distress when I came in spoke otherwise.”

  “And you would have caught us in an embarrassing situation had I not become determined to behave as I should. A sudden realization overwhelmed baser inclination. I decided that we must stop. Even if we may never achieve a relationship, my attachment to her is real and not something to be tarnished.”

  Asterly returned Freddy’s unblinking stare and some moments later said, “I see. Then there is nothing else for it. You must find a legal way out of the harridan’s grasp. If you marry that woman’s child, she’s the sort who will control and manipulate through the girl. I’ll never forget what she did to you.”

  “I was a boy, Peregrine. A green lad with no sense but what was dictated by the contents of his trousers.”

  “No, Freddy, I won’t allow you to belittle your very real feelings for her at that time. What she did was inexcusable. She enjoyed every moment of drawing and quartering you in a public venue, and I feel sure she never would have done, if she’d known about your expectations. Instead of tying herself to a lecherous, impoverished duke, she could have lived well off the interest of your investments until you came into title.”

  Freddy nodded. “I can’t argue with your estimation of her character and can only hope that the duchess didn’t sharpen her claws on Mrs. Merrick before heading my way.”

  Asterly’s gaze sharpened. “Did Mrs. Merrick make comment?”

  “In a way. She vented her choler on me. Can’t blame her. I wouldn’t put up with it either.”

  “Ah. Well, I’m sure you did something to provoke her. She’s the most placid person I’ve ever met. What do you think the duchess will do next?”

  Keeping the fact of Evangeline’s vivid temper to himself, Freddy answered, “Cause some sort of mischief, I don’t doubt. I left her and the girls at the house and decamped to my lodgings.”

  “Lud, Freddy, you left that vicious female the field? How could you, and did you say girls?”

  With a mirthless laugh, Freddy said, “Five of them, all not much more than a year apart. The old goat made her work for her title, but she never dropped an heir. He left her nearly destitute in retaliation.”

  Asterly paused for a narrow-eyed inspection. “How do you know so much about her personal life? You’ve protested that you no
longer have an interest in the woman.”

  “And I don’t. As a distant cousin, and mother of my intended, Duchess Pendrylan considers my business hers. Over the last four years, since the duke’s much appreciated departure from this earthly realm, she’s badgered me for everything. Dunned me like a moneylender. I’m more interested in the subject of Mrs. Merrick. How did she come to this house?”

  “Via a recommendation from Crimm. Mrs. Merrick was recently widowed. You know Elizabeth’s weakness for the forlorn. She hired her as a dresser and they became unlikely friends. As much as Mrs. Merrick will allow. She believes in maintaining her station, whatever that might be. She certainly has no origins in the servant class.”

  Freddy pounced on that tidbit. “So you know what she hides?”

  Asterly asked, “Do you really think that I would allow anyone and anything in the least bit unsavory near Elizabeth?”

  “That’s an evasion, my friend, if not a ridiculous one at that. Your wife puts on a good front with that act of compliance and obedience, while doing exactly as she pleases. I liken her to a cunning battering ram, eroding her opponent’s defenses as she heaps sly subtleties on their ignorant heads. She obliterates the playing fields before her enemies know how it happened.”

  Far from finding insult with that comparison, Asterly grinned like a proud parent, “That’s my Lizzie.”

  “Peregrine, believe me when I say that I mean Mrs. Merrick no harm. I would vastly appreciate any help you can give. At least tell me why she is such a frightened creature when it’s the opposite of her character. It’s like watching a tiger trapped in a hare’s skin.”