Enticing Miss Eugenie Villaret (29 page)

Will stopped eating for a moment. “I agree.”

“I’d also like to see the marriage settlements.”

He’d expected that. “Mr. Whitecliff took them to Wivenly House. I was at a bit of a disadvantage when we drew them up as I did not know the full extent of Eugénie’s holdings.”

“I do not understand.” Eugénie set down her cup of tea. “I have nothing but what Papa gives me.”

Will slid his arm around her waist. “No, my love. You also have funds from your French father and property in France.”

She glanced from Uncle Nathan back to Will. “Why did no one tell me?”

Her mother shrugged. “You were never interested, and I was not sure I knew everything. Your Papa always handled the finances.”

Will took another sip of tea. “I decided Eugénie should keep whatever she owns and Mr. Whitecliff and I drafted a trust of sorts. In addition, I have settled what I own outright on her and any children. As you know, sir, I could not commit my father.”

Nathan rubbed a hand over his face. “I realize you did the best you could under the circumstances, and you were extremely generous. We’ll speak with your father when we return to England.”

“Return?”
Sidonie, Eugénie, and Will blurted out at the same time.

Nathan nodded. “After I took Benet to my mother in England, I began to think about moving the rest of the family back. It is not that I don’t love it here, but I had the girls to consider and, to be quite frank, tensions between the Danes and English have increased.” He glanced at Aunt Sidonie. “If you don’t mind, my dear, I’d like to start moving the company to England.”

“Whatever you wish to do, my darling.” She grinned at him. “With two of our children living there, I think it is a good idea.”

“When you’re finished eating, Will,”—Nathan eyed Will’s plate as if he’d just noticed how much food had been on it—“we’ll visit the Vicomte Villaret.”

“
That
will not be necessary.” A man with a strong French accent addressed them, glaring at Uncle Nathan and Will.

“Sorry, Wivenly,” Henriksen said. “He got past my man.”

“Could we have more tea?” Aunt Sidonie asked.

Villaret stood ramrod straight. “I do not care for tea. As soon as I have collected Eugénie, we shall leave. Also, I wish whoever murdered my brother to be arrested.”

Will clenched his teeth. Like hell he’d be arrested for killing that blackguard, nor would he allow Eugénie to go anywhere without him.

M
aman’s hands flew to her lips as she gasped. At the same time, Papa and William both shot to their feet, towering over Uncle Hervé.

Will’s voice was low and dangerous. “
My wife
is not going anywhere with you.”

One corner of Hervé’s upper lip rose. “You cannot have married my niece. I am her guardian, and you would have required my permission.”

“The devil you are!” Papa bellowed. “The courts on Martinique and St. Thomas granted me guardianship.”

The older man stood as if neither William nor Papa mattered at all. “But the French court awarded me guardianship just six months ago. This so-called marriage is void.” He glanced at Eugénie. “Come, my dear.”

She stood, grabbing William’s arm as he lunged at her uncle. “Stop, all of you. Papa, William, sit. I cannot see over you. Now, perhaps we can clear this up without further bloodshed.” Eugénie fixed a basilisk gaze on Hervé. “Though Yves got exactly what he deserved. We shall discuss that later. First, tell me, what is the age of majority in France?”

“Twenty-one.”

“
Bon.
That is exactly the age in England. I turned twenty-one in August of this year. Therefore, I have no guardian in either of those countries, but I do have a husband.”

Her uncle vibrated with rage. “
Impossible!
You are lying. I have the letter we received from your father telling us of your birth.”

“That missive,” Maman said, grinning with relief, “was written when Eugénie was a year old and we knew she would survive. Many babies do not.”

Hervé suddenly seemed to get smaller. “You are telling me she is truly twenty-one?”

Maman nodded.

He glanced back to Eugénie. “Then why did you agree to go with Yves?”

Thinking about her other uncle caused anger to rush up inside her. “He threatened to torture and kill Papa.”

Papa pointed to William. “Your brother also attempted to kill Lord Wivenly.”

Hervé collapsed into the chair near the door. “I knew I should not have trusted Yves. This is horrible. We will be paupers for years trying to build the estate back up again.”

She’d had enough of their self-pity. “It is better than having nothing. If you had put the money and effort into your estates that you spent trying to make me marry an old
comte
, you’d be further along.”

“Monsieur le Vicomte,” the captain of the galley said from the door, “I insist we depart. I will not risk my ship again.”

“
Oui, oui
. We shall leave now,” Hervé responded in a tired voice. “The sooner I get home, the better.” He rose, bowing to them. “
Au revoir
, Sidonie, Eugénie. Before I go I would like to know one thing. Who is this man you have married?”

William stood again, sketching a short bow. “Viscount Wivenly, heir to the Earl of Watford.”

Hervé smiled wryly. “At least you still made a good match.” And he sauntered out of the room.

“Well!” Cicely exclaimed. “I cannot believe he expected to just walk in here and take Eugénie away. And after finding out what a blackguard his brother was, he didn’t even apologize.”

Maman played with her cup, turning it around. “Before the revolution, they were an old and powerful family. Their presumptuousness knows no bounds. I am just happy Eugénie is of age.”

“Except in the Danish West Indies,” Will muttered, sitting once more.

Eugénie kissed his cheek. “Now that we are married, you do not have to worry about that.”

A few minutes later, Monsieur Beaufort appeared with a very pretty lady and the largest man Eugénie had ever seen.

“Bonjour, mes amis.”
He grinned. “I see my countryman is not happy.” He swept a courtly bow. “Eugénie, you are as beautiful as ever. If this very large gentleman will move”—he glanced at William, who scowled—“I shall kiss your hand.”

“Pay no attention to him, my love.” Eugénie flicked her fingers at the man. “This is Monsieur Beaufort. I have known him all my life, and he is a dreadful flirt.
Bonjour
, Vincent. Meet my husband, William, Viscount Wivenly.”

Vincent held out his hand to William. “I am pleased to meet you. Well done, keeping Eugénie in the family.”

As the men shook, William said, “A pleasure meeting you as well. Thank you for rescuing my uncle.”

Papa leaned back in his chair. “What can we do for you, Vincent?”

“I merely came to inform you we will set sail shortly. Miss Marshall wishes to marry as soon as possible, and the others want to get settled into their new home on Tortola.”

Eugénie caught Cicely’s eyes, and laughed. “I advise you to go to St. Michael’s near Great Carot Bay and have the vicar there perform the service. Mr. Stewart, the rector of St. George’s in Road Town, is hard to find.”

“Thank you. We shall do just that,” the lady said in a soft voice.

Papa stood. “I’ll walk out with you, Vincent.”

William took Eugénie’s hand and rose. “I’d like to be alone with my wife for a while, if you don’t mind.”

“Go ahead, my dears,” Maman said. “We shall see you later.”

Once back in their cabin, William wrapped his arms around Eugénie, kissing her tenderly. “I can’t wait to have you all to myself.”

She nibbled his bottom lip. “I feel the same. In the meantime . . .”

His lips tilted up. “In the meantime, I’ve been thinking about the best way to get you out of that perfectly lovely gown, my lady.”

“Have you, my lord? And what have you decided?”

Her bodice started to sag. “That I’m getting very good at this.”

February 1917, the Queen Hotel, St. Thomas

A
lthough they had planned to spend Christmas in England, finding a trustworthy person to manage Papa’s concerns here had not gone as smoothly as he had hoped. Finally, Andrew’s grandfather had found a man, but he did not leave England until January.

Eugénie pulled out the letters she’d received from the wives of William’s friends. They all expressed their desire to meet her as soon as may be, and she was looking forward to meeting them. William had described all but one of them to her. He had not yet met Lord Huntley’s wife. Now just one thing marred her happiness. She glanced around at the trunks and portmanteaux stacked up against two walls of the parlor. “Are you sure you are not up to coming with us?”

Cicely shook her head. “Not with this morning sickness. I think the journey would make it worse.” She smiled. “We plan to travel in March or April. After all, I do not wish to attend my first Season as big as a house.”

“I shall miss you.” Eugénie blinked back tears. “But summer is not that far off.”

“I’ll miss you as well.” Her friend hugged her. “Don’t forget to write and tell me about everything.”

Several carters began moving the luggage. “I shall write every week.”

“Eugénie, my love.” William handed her his handkerchief. “It’s time. Your father sent a note that we must come now. Captain Black is waiting for us.”

“Oui, oui.”
She hugged Cicely. “I shall see you in a few months.”

April 1817, Dunwood House, London

Eugénie and William were ushered down a corridor toward the family drawing room of their friends Marcus and Phoebe, Earl and Countess of Evesham, whom Eugénie had met on a shopping trip to Town. A few days later, Anna, Lady Rutherford, and Emma, Lady Marsh, appeared as well.

Eugénie had been corresponding with the other ladies and was now eager to put faces with their names.

A cacophony of shrill squeals, deep laughter, and female admonishments met her ears. It sounded so much like home, she grinned at William. Ahead of them Marcus’s butler, Wilson, bowed and announced in sonorous tones, “The Viscount and Viscountess Wivenly.”

The room seemed full of ladies in varying stages of pregnancy or holding babies. Gentlemen lounged on the floor, playing with the children crawling or toddling across the floor. She touched her own swelling stomach.

Phoebe came swiftly toward them, taking Eugénie’s hands in her own. “Welcome. I am so glad you are here. We put this off so that Serena and Robert could be here.”

Marcus stood behind Phoebe, grinning. “Now that you’re here, tea will be served soon, but I’ve got some very good sherry if you’d like to give it a try.”

William hesitated. “My love?”

Anna and Emma waved at Eugénie. “Go on.” She smiled up at him. “I wish to meet the rest of the ladies.”

“Eugénie,” Phoebe said, as she led her to an auburn-haired woman holding a tiny baby. “I know you’ve been in contact with everyone. Allow me to help you sort them all out.”

“But this must be Serena, is she not?”

The woman shifted the child onto her shoulder. “Indeed I am, and you are Eugénie. When are you expecting?”

“In August.” Eugénie reached out, stroking the baby’s head. “How old is she now?”

Serena smiled. “Three weeks. Elizabeth will give her father gray hair before his time.”

Down the long room, one of the men gave a shout of laughter. “Yes, that little girl is fate’s way of getting back at Beaumont.”

A tall gentleman with blond curls gave a mock scowl, but his green eyes were alight with mirth. “That’s right, Rutherford. You’d better watch your son around my daughter.”

Next to Serena, a lady with light flaxen curls shook her head at the men before grinning at Eugénie. “It is so good to finally meet you. I’m Caro. You are due not long after I am. It will be nice having our children so close together.”

A beautiful woman with golden-blond curls bustled up to Eugénie. “You must be Eugénie. I’m Grace. That little scamp on the tall man is Gideon.” She stroked her stomach. “He’ll have a brother or sister around November.”

“Well, isn’t this a sight.” An elegantly dressed gentleman with wavy, light brown hair entered the room, surveying it through his quizzing glass. “I hope you don’t mind, Phoebe, but I told Wilson there was no need to announce me.”

“Eugénie, allow me to introduce Mr. Featherton. Kit, Eugénie, Viscountess Wivenly.”

“My pleasure, Mr. Featherton.” She smiled as he bowed over her hand. “Do I call you Kit or Featherton?”

“I answer to both.” He grinned. “The ladies usually call me Kit and the gentlemen Featherton.”

“Very well, Kit it is. Please call me Eugénie.” She glanced around. “Where is your wife?”

He flushed. “Don’t have one. I am the odd man out in this circle.”

William came up behind her. “Didn’t I hear something about your father telling you it was time to settle down?”

The man’s face turned so red, Eugénie thought poor Kit would choke.

“I told him I’d take a gander this Season, but there is a matter come up at the manor house my great-aunt left me that I must see to. I just wanted to come by and welcome you and your lovely bride back home.” He shook William’s hand. “Must go now.” He bowed to her. “Very happy to have met you.”

She stared as he walked away as quickly as he’d entered. Eugénie frowned. “It is me, or was he behaving strangely?”

“It’s not you, my love,” William said. “Featherton has had a very strange circumstance arise.”

Phoebe joined them. “I do hope it’s nothing too serious. You gentlemen needn’t tease him. Kit will marry when he meets the right woman.” She raised a brow at William. “Just as all of you did.”

eKENSINGTON BOOKS are published by

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Copyright © 2014 by Ella Quinn

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First Electronic Edition: August 2014

ISBN: 978-1-6018-3326-6

First Print Edition: August 2014
ISBN-13: 978-1-60183-327-3
ISBN-10: 1-60183-327-X