AWAKENING THE SHY MISS (20 page)

Her mother laughed and smoothed back her hair. ‘Evie, love doesn’t work that way. Some people do fall in love over the course of several years, so gradually they don’t realise it. Others fall right away. There is no timetable and perhaps you were merely infatuated with Andrew. It would be easy enough. He’s handsome and charming in his own way if one doesn’t look too closely, like costume jewellery, no? He’s all you’ve known in this small corner of the world.’

She smiled. ‘I’ve long thought it a great disservice to our women that we don’t send them abroad the way we do our young men. We should let our women see the world, see what it has to offer before they settle down.’

It was the most liberal thought Evie had ever heard her mother voice—her mother, who was traditional to her core, a woman who’d raised her daughters by the book, who did not challenge society by reaching too high above her. She knew her station.

‘I see I have surprised you.’ She squeezed Evie’s hand. ‘It might also surprise you to know that your father and I weren’t always this old married couple you see before you.’ There was a soft look in her eyes, a faraway look. ‘Once, we were young and hotly in love like you and your prince.’ Her voice trailed off. ‘I never told you this, but I had another suitor, in London, while your father was on his Grand Tour right before the wars broke out. Henry Northam.’

Lord Belvoir? Evie almost fell off the vanity bench. The most feared man in Parliament? The man whose daughter was the toast of the
ton
? The man who’d tried to block Claire’s husband’s appointment to Vienna. ‘Cecilia’s father?’ she said in disbelief. ‘I can’t imagine you with him.’

‘Apparently neither could I.’ Her mother gave a little laugh. ‘I tried to, though. He was handsome, a superb dancer and he could have anyone he wanted. He was like Andrew in that regard. It was flattering that he was taken with me. I had nothing to offer him that a hundred other girls couldn’t also offer him. He was the catch of the Season that year, but I never felt quite right with him. I felt as if I were always thinking about what to say next, what to do next, hoping it would be the right thing. I wasn’t myself around him. Then your father came home from his Grand Tour early because the revolution in France had become too dangerous. I remember watching him walk into Lady Chatsworth’s ballroom in the middle of July and I knew I was going to marry him. He looked at me and it was over.’ A satisfied smile played on her lips. ‘I did marry him, three months later, a very fast wedding considering the circumstances.

‘Your father made me laugh, he still does. When I was with him, I didn’t question who I was and neither did he. Had I married Henry Northam, I would have spent the rest of my life doubting my place. Some people say I gave up everything, but I have never felt that way. I’ve gained everything. I loved the man, not the title, not all the trappings that went with him.’

‘But you told me marriage is work, that passion doesn’t last,’ Evie argued.

‘It is that too. You will quarrel and you will disagree, and the passion changes into something far better than what you start out with. So you see, you can fall in love at first sight.’

‘He is giving up too much. I don’t need him to be a prince. But I fear he does.’ She did not want him to become less than he was. ‘I don’t want him to humble himself for me, to give up his family. I’m not worth it and some day he’ll figure that out.’

Her mother’s response was sharp. ‘Stop right there, young lady. Perhaps he should not humble himself for you, but you are worth loving. You hold yourself too cheaply and I fear people take advantage of you for it.’ Her mother made a sad smile. ‘Even your own family, sometimes. Your father and I love having you here. It would be hard to lose you. Maybe we haven’t handled it the right way, giving you too much freedom. But we didn’t want you to feel pressured to leave or too suffocated if you stayed. Perhaps in being
laissez-faire
, we’ve create the impression we didn’t care. But we do care, Evie, about your happiness very much and you can’t be happy
with
anyone unless you’re happy with yourself. Can you live with yourself if you let the Prince go? Don’t answer, just think on it.’

Her mother rose. ‘Let me help you with your dress or we’ll be late for our own party.’

The russet silk slid over her and Evie felt peace, confidence descend with it. This gown was her armour. In it, she felt beautiful. Beautiful enough even to stand beside Dimitri Petrovich. Evie wasn’t arrogant enough to think she would be the centre of attention at the gala, but she would be
in
the centre of attention. Any woman standing beside Dimitri would always be in the centre of attention. Old Evie would have played the hostess behind the scenes. But the Evie who stared back at her from the mirror as she smoothed the gown over her hips, the New Evie who had taken a lover, would be Cinderella at the ball, a ball she’d planned. She would stand beside Dimitri as his hostess for the first and only time with a smile on her face and act as if her world wasn’t about to fall apart. She was glad she was wearing quite possibly the best dress she’d ever made. She was going to need it. It was becoming more difficult with each hour to maintain her belief that she had made the right choice.

Chapter Twenty-Five

D
imitri came to an abrupt halt, his heart pounding in pure male appreciation as Evie stepped out from the pavilion. He vaguely registered that her parents were with her or that other carriages had begun to arrive at the site like a little parade. All of that could wait for just a moment while he looked at her.

The gown was daring, a design all its own that was at once modern with its rich russet hue and yet a throwback to earlier days of fuller skirts and tighter bodices—a fashion he was developing an immediate appreciation for. The bodice was cut low, with the merest nod to sleeves in the slim off-the-shoulder bands that called more attention to what was
not
there than what was. A black choker at her neck drew the eye upward to the delicate bones of her shoulders and the cream of her skin, the upsweep of her hair a perfect match for the richness of her gown. But when she walked, the gown and the woman took on a life of their own. A man couldn’t help but notice the tight waist, the gorgeous, sweeping bell of her skirts as she moved. The woman in the gown moved with grace that bordered on regal. He’d never seen Evie like this, yet it was still her, still his sweet, beautiful Evie. It was there in the smile she bestowed on him.

He moved towards her, offering her his hand, taking hers in its long, white, elbow-length gloves, raising it to his lips. He let his eyes brave her face as he kissed those gloved knuckles, not caring if he gave away too much. Let the world see how much he loved her. By tomorrow, it would be over. She would be his. He beamed at her, but her lovely smile faltered. Nerves, perhaps? He tucked her arm through his. ‘I want nothing more than to be alone with you.’ His voice was low. ‘As lovely as that gown is, I can think only of taking it off you.’

She shook her head. ‘Not now.’ She was right, of course. He had a party to host. There was no time. Guests were arriving and the future of this wonderfully begun excavation depended on his success tonight.

‘Certainly not now, guests might find that a little awkward. Later, then.’ He gave a chuckle just for her and led her towards their guests. ‘Their’. He liked the sound of that. There would be a lot more ‘theirs’ and ‘ours’. ‘Come and see your party, Evie. It has turned out magnificently.’

He wanted her to see it as a guest, not as a worker who had laboured all day to make the magic happen. It had overwhelmed him in its elegance when he’d stepped out of the pavilion. He’d helped the curtained walls go up, seen the swathes of fabric give shape to the party space all day long, but it was wondrous to see the transformation after stepping back from it. It was even more wondrous to see it through Evie’s eyes, to see her face brighten with a genuine smile of joy when she saw the rich fabrics, the lit candles, the flowers all in their places.

They took up their place at the entrance to the site, his Kubanian crew turned out in the livery of footmen, standing behind them ready with trays of chilled champagne in the phalanx that discreetly ushered the guests through the site without letting them veer off to unfinished areas. In the distance, the dancing tent gleamed white in the falling light.

‘Mrs Jeffers, Mr Jeffers, how good of you to come. Your necklace is lovely, is that a topaz?’ Dimitri greeted the first guests with a smile. The party had begun. It was a start. He was happier than he had been all day. Evie was beside him and it gave him confidence that they would sort out whatever lay between them. He devoted himself to charming the guests, but most of all, he devoted himself to selflessly charming Evie.
Let her see that I can do this, that I can fit in in her little part of the world, that I can be her man.
He knew the guests by name, knew small, personal details about each of them, encouraged them to enjoy the party.

Beside him, Evie was a revelation. Her natural tendency to help others made her the consummate hostess to his host. She discreetly saw to everyone’s comfort, making sure people were paired with others they could talk to with ease as he moved around the gathering space with her. At each group, he stopped and talked briefly about the project, the progress and the future. More than ever now, he needed funds for the project. He would no longer have vast unlimited wealth to throw at it.

He watched Evie with Mrs Stone, listening politely to a story about the lady’s grandchildren. Tonight was a glimpse of what life would be like; hosting parties with Evie. Perhaps nothing as grand as this, but other events at their home in the valley. His offer had been accepted. If he had a private moment with Evie tonight, he’d tell her. He wanted to show her the deed. Signs of life. Proof of life. Their life. Not even Andrew with Cecilia Northam on his arm laughing and tossing her head could diminish the evening.

If there was one blight on the evening, it was a small one indeed. Evie was everything a hostess should be and yet he felt she wasn’t quite herself. Every so often, he’d sneak a glance and catch a sadness in her eyes and then she would look at him and it would disappear as if he’d imagined it.

After a dinner of Russian foods, all of his favourites—he could see Evie’s thoughtful hand in the menu—he led her out for the first dance, a Russian waltz beneath the enormous canopy with its dazzling chandelier that had stolen everyone’s breath. He had waited all night for an excuse to hold her close, to put his hand at her waist and claim her in front of all these people, all of her neighbours, and announce through his possession that he meant to make her his. After tonight, there could be no doubt that this was what he wanted and this was the woman he wanted it with.

He swept her into the early steps of the dance, his mouth close at her ear, letting it wash over him. ‘I love you, Evie.’ He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply the clean lavender fragrance of her.

She looked up at him with fierce blue eyes. ‘I love you too, don’t ever forget it.’

‘I want to tell you a secret, Evie,’ he murmured. ‘This is the best night of my life.’ It was. The chains were gone, chains he hadn’t even known he carried. His father’s bittersweet view of love, while understandable, had coloured his own views far more than he’d realised. He’d had to throw off those chains and the limits they shackled him to in order to find his own understanding: love was powerful. Love could free a man.

A movement at the dais where the orchestra played caught his eye. A man mounted the steps. On closer scrutiny, he could see who it was. What was Andrew doing up there? Worry began to hatch. The music came to a stop as the waltz ended. Andrew had something in his hand. With his other hand, he gestured for attention. What was the man doing? Dimitri feared ‘the grand gesture’ Andrew was so fond of making. He felt Evie’s hand tighten on his arm and protectiveness surged. The man had tried to hurt Evie and here he was pretending to be the golden boy in front of his neighbours—neighbours who didn’t guess what a bastard the man was at heart, that he’d left a woman to walk home alone at dark after forcing attentions on her.

The crowd silenced and Andrew’s voice filled the room. ‘Good evening, everyone. Welcome to our celebration, and I mean “our” in the most encompassing sense. This is Little Westbury’s night. Tonight we celebrate the excavation, a project that has lain dormant in our community for too long, but has now come to life.’ There was applause and Andrew waited for it to die down before continuing. ‘I can think of no better way to crown that celebration than with the unveiling of this book that chronicles the early work on our site.’ He held up the item he carried in his hand, reading off the title in gilt letters on a green leather background,
‘The
Life of General Lucius Artorious: A Sussex Excavation, complete with illustrations by a local artist.’
He held the book open to reveal a very fine drawing of a goblet. Dimitri did not miss the self-satisfied glance of smugness he tossed their way.

What the hell? Next to him, Evie stifled a horrified gasp. There was so much wrong with this presentation, Dimitri’s mind raced to take in the implications. Andrew had stolen his work and claimed it. ‘How did he get his hands on your drawings?’ It was obvious to him who the ‘local artist’ was.

Evie was trembling. ‘I gave them to him. I had no idea. He said he wanted a keepsake.’

Around them, more applause broke out, no one aware of the little drama playing out in front of them. To the people gathered here, this was indeed a perfect capstone to an evening designed to honour the excavation. They saw nothing wrong with had happened. It never occurred to them Andrew had stolen work that did not rightfully belong to him.

‘Why would he do this?’ Evie’s eyes were wide with betrayal, her face mirroring the shock he felt in his gut.

‘Revenge,’ Dimitri growled. Evie’s pain was worse to bear than his own. Andrew hadn’t just done this to him, he’d done it to Evie, Evie, who had given so selflessly of her time and skill to help with all of this. This was not Andrew Adair’s excavation, it was his. He alone had the privilege to write about it. He alone had the obligation to defend it, to defend Evie. ‘I will make this right.’

Dimitri moved through the crowd. He would put a stop to this with all the royal finesse he possessed. Being in public wouldn’t protect Andrew tonight. It was time to expose a traitor. He was starting to suspect a man who would steal another man’s work wouldn’t stop there. He had found his thief. He stepped up on the dais to join Andrew, throwing the guests a charismatic smile. He was enjoying the fact already that Andrew was off balance.

Andrew had not expected this. He’d expected anger, he’d been planning to offset an outburst as if he thought Dimitri would rush the stage and do violence. Andrew should have thought like a prince. A prince would never engage in a public brawl.

Dimitri quieted the crowd. ‘What an evening! Andrew is too modest. I think under these circumstances we can expose the real name of our illustrator. We are all friends here; we don’t need to hide. Our illustrator is none other than our own Miss Evaine Milham. She has given generously of her time and talents and deserves to be acknowledged for it. Her beautiful drawings have brought our shards and pieces to life, some of which you’ve had a chance to view tonight.’ He was gratified at the oohs and ahs that went up, the applause that met his announcement.

‘Secondly, to cap off the evening, we encourage you to continue enjoy dancing, and to wander over to our special display cases containing some of the best items in our collection. There, you can see the fruits of your labour because this project has taken all of us.’ He shot a glance at Andrew. ‘Let me tell you what you’ll find in the case. First, we have a hair brush and mirror most likely used by the general’s wife. Secondly, we have a bowl, which was found in two pieces. We have glued it back together and if you look carefully, you can see the seam where it shattered. Finally, we have a pottery goblet, which bears the general’s personal insignia on the bottom, which, of course, as any good collector knows, is one way to tell a piece is authentic.’ He turned to the orchestra and gave the signal for music. It was time to return his guests to the dancing. Beside him, Andrew looked pale.

‘You look ill—too many seed cakes?’ Dimitri joked, trying to keep his tone light, trying not to give away his anger. He wanted Andrew flummoxed. He wanted Andrew thinking he actually approved of his actions. There was nothing better for foiling revenge than to simply not be angry over it. It was hard, especially when he really wanted to haul Andrew outside and thrash him in a most unprincely fashion. This man was no longer his friend and he disliked pretending otherwise. ‘Walk with me.’ He had Andrew by the arm, giving him no choice. They strolled over to the display tables, Evie coming to link her arm with his. He rather wished she hadn’t. He worried Andrew in his desperation might become violent. But she had a right to see a thief brought to justice. Andrew had stolen from her as surely as he’d stolen from him.

‘These are beautiful. Signs of life, Evie and I call them,’ Dimitri said casually, watching Andrew’s face go chalky. It was time. He clapped a hand on Andrew’s shoulder. ‘Did you think I wouldn’t notice?’ His voice was low for Andrew alone. ‘You stole from me. However, beyond the first item you took, everything else were reproductions only. I sincerely hope you didn’t sell them to discerning buyers. They will not be pleased if they discover you’ve been passing off replicas. People who buy on the black market aren’t known for their scruples.’ Dimitri didn’t think it was possible for Andrew to get any whiter, but he managed it, his jaw tightening, his eyes fierce in their desperation. ‘I might have tolerated the crime against me, but not Evie. She liked you once upon a time and you used her quite sorely.

‘Well, enough said.’ He offered Andrew a smile and forced a final note of bonhomie into his tone. ‘You might need a head start. I hope you take it. Out of remembrance of the good times we once had, I don’t want to see your throat slit in an alley.’ He made a small nod with his head as if he were merely finished with a conversation instead of having offered Andrew an ultimatum. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have guests to see to.’

He turned away from Andrew, his hand at Evie’s back, a most dismissive gesture and a most dangerous one. It nearly proved fatal.

‘No, I don’t think I will excuse you.’ Andrew’s voice was menacing. ‘Turn around, Prince Dimitri Petrovich, and face me like a man.’ Dimitri turned. Andrew’s eyes flickered downward towards his hand. Dimitri’s heart pounded. This was what he had feared. In Andrew’s hand was a small, palm-sized gun, perfect for roués and gamblers who found themselves in sticky situations. The gun was aimed at Evie’s stomach. ‘A gut shot is a terrible way to die. One lingers long enough to really hurt, to know their life is slipping away and no one can do anything about it. There’s a little relief at the end. You go numb right before the world goes dark. That’s how you know it’s nearly over.’

Andrew grinned. ‘How does it feel to have your life stripped out from under? That’s what you have done to me. You’ve signed my death warrant and you know it. Now, give me the artefacts and we’ll all live.’