Learning to Waltz (33 page)

They had a choice of carriages to take them north, and Evan reserved the best of them. Then he found a bank and replenished his purse. He hadn’t planned on buying a horse, much less paying out bribes. Then he fretted until they were on the road.

It became clear early on that the speedy journey Evan had envisioned was not to be. Though at first she took an interest in the country they passed through, by the time a couple of hours had passed, Mrs. Carlington was squirming again, shifting her position repeatedly in an effort to relieve whatever discomfort she was feeling. She said she felt stiff; they stopped to change horses and walked around a bit, but it didn’t help for long.

They put in just six hours before Evan called a halt. He’d hoped to reach Whately in three long days, but at this rate it would be double that. He was disappointed and a bit irritated, but he could hardly blame her. She had traveled nowhere since she was twenty years old—an unimaginable thought—and could not have known how her aging, damaged body would respond to sitting still for so long. She apologized each time they stopped and each time they started out again. Evan did his best to hide his impatience and pretend he was happy with their pace.

Barring floods, an unseasonable blizzard, or an apocalytic attack by the minions of Satan, they would still arrive in time for Latimer’s wedding, perhaps with a day or two to spare.

Evan had plenty of time in Bristol to buy a magnificently illustrated edition of
Gulliver’s Travels
as a gift for Julian. In Cirencester he paid an overdue visit to a barber.

He wanted to get something for Deborah but could not settle on anything. He considered a gorgeous necklace of garnets with earrings to match, but if she refused him again, he would have to consign them to the Atlantic Ocean, on his way to America, and what a waste that would be.

Finally, in Coventry, he found a fine copy of Bewick’s
History of British Birds.
It would do. All in all, he had far too much time to twiddle his thumbs, becoming more nervous each day.

Mrs. Carlington seemed to share this affliction. They had begun by conversing a fair amount as they sat together in the chaise and shared dinner in their private parlor. They talked of various things but very little of Deborah. She was there with them, though—perhaps that was why conversation became more difficult as they drew closer to Deborah herself. Evan found it harder and harder to think about anything else and suspected the same was true of his companion.

On the final evening before their arrival in Whately, in his bedchamber at a pleasant inn in Coventry, he yielded to temptation and began to sift through Deborah’s treasures. But somehow it felt like rapine, so he stopped and replaced those items he had removed with even greater care than he’d used taking them out.

Mrs. Carlington was even quieter than usual all that last day. Evan knew she had not been sleeping well, and she had eaten no more than a mouse’s portion at breakfast.

His body thrumming with tension, Evan watched out the window as they crossed the bridge at Dellford in mid-afternoon. “Just a few more miles, ma’am.”

“Oh my. I must…  I have a confession to make.”

It was breathless, almost whispered, so that he had to lean forward to hear it.

Then he sat back abruptly, surprised and angry. This would make the situation harder for everyone. But she was so pale, and looked so unhappy, that there was really nothing he could say. He considered depositing Mrs. Carlington at the inn while he went to talk to Deborah but decided against it. He smiled at her instead, and though she did not return it, he thought she relaxed just a trifle.

Julian was sitting on the front step when the carriage pulled up in front of the cottage, shelling peas into a basket. He and the dog looked to be eating their share now rather than waiting for dinner. What had they named the mongrel? Oh yes: Pelleas.

Evan grinned. He’d been so focused on Deborah these past months, he hadn’t even realized how much he’d missed her son. He jumped down as Julian and dog ogled the carriage and had the reward of seeing the boy’s face light up in jubilation. He swept him off the ground for a hug but was promptly recalled to his other obligations by a couple of sharp barks from the vicinity of his knees.

A quick word for the dog, and then the coachman needed to be told which of their luggage to unload here and which to take on to Whately Manor. Finally, he turned to help Deborah’s mother down from the carriage. Her eyes, wide in her lined face, drank in the sight of her grandson.

“Julian, here’s someone I want you to meet.”

“Is she a countess?” Julian looked skeptical as he got his first look at her.

“No, she’s not a countess. She’s even better. This is Mrs. Carlington.” Clearly the name meant nothing to the boy, and she was only a missus, after all, but he made his bow very properly.

“She is your grandmother, Julian.”

Julian’s eyes flew to Evan’s face and back to Mrs. Carlington’s. Evan thought Mrs. Carlington might faint as she underwent that grave and dubious scrutiny. Instead, she stepped away from his supporting arm. Her voice broke, but she got the words out. “I am so glad to meet you, Julian.” She offered her hand, and after studying her face for another moment, the boy shook it.

First hurdle cleared, thought Evan. “Where is your mama?”

“In the kitchen I think, sir.”

Evan picked up the basket of peas and ushered the whole party into the house. “Your grandmother needs to sit down, Julian. Would you take her into the parlor? You can introduce her to Pelleas.”

He watched them enter the room and then turned toward the kitchen. He set the peas on the hall table and closed his eyes, taking a long, shaky breath. He was, he supposed, as ready as he was ever likely to be.

She was setting a bucket down on the floor as he materialized in the doorway. She must have just brought it in from the yard, or she would surely have heard the commotion in the hallway.

She picked a teacup from the clutter of dishes on the counter for washing and saw him. Her jaw dropped and so did the cup. Oblivious, she stepped through the broken pieces and into his arms.

She felt better, so much better than he had remembered or imagined. His lips sought hers but found only hair. Her face was pressed into his shoulder, her hands gripped the sides of his coat. He thought he must be hurting her and eased his hold ever so slightly. She moved and took what he could swear was her first breath.

“Did you miss me?” Evan wasn’t sure whose voice it was; it certainly didn’t sound like his.

She seemed to gurgle. With laughter, perhaps? Her gaze was on his cravat. “I suppose you’d not believe me if I said no?”

He freed one hand and tilted her chin up. “No.”

Now came the kiss. He forgot all about being gentle and was suddenly glad that Mrs. Carlington had not written to advise her daughter of their arrival. Forewarned, Deborah would no doubt have armed herself against such a show of emotion.

Unfortunately, that thought reminded him of the hurdle still to be faced. With reluctance, he divided himself from her. Hand on her back, Evan turned her toward the table.

“Sit down, Deborah.”

She gestured toward the mess on the floor. “I need to—”

“Later. I’ve something to tell you.” He urged her onto a bench and sat across from her. He tried to think of some way to mitigate the shock of his news, but failed.

“I’ve brought your mother with me.”

Deborah stopped breathing again. She stared at him, frozen.

“What?” It was hardly audible.

He shook his head. “I’m sorry. She was supposed to write to you. I found out just this afternoon she had not, or I would have written myself.”

“You were in Lydford?”

Evan nodded. “I went south when I left Whately in January and stopped in Lydford on my way back here for Latimer’s wedding. Your brother turned her out of the house. She didn’t want to stay in Lydford, and she has nowhere else to go.”

Deborah still had not moved. Evan pried one of her hands from the tense grip of the other and folded both his own around it. Her gaze dropped for a moment to their clasped hands on the tabletop, a crease between her brows. Then she stood up. “Where is she?” If her expression was not eager, it was at least determined.

“In the parlor with Julian.” It could certainly cloud a man’s confidence to note how precipitately her attention had shifted away from him. “I must tell you, she is afraid you won’t want her.”

Deborah made no reply to that but strode through the door and across the hallway. Evan saw her stop in the parlor doorway, one hand on the jamb.

When she moved out of sight into the room, he found a broom and dustpan and bent to pick up the broken china.

Whately had always meant Viscount Latimer. Now, Deborah was the center of town, the center of Evan’s world. And that world was askew.

He stayed for less than an hour following their arrival, carrying Mrs. Carlington’s meager belongings up the stairs and depositing them in Julian’s little room under Deborah’s direction. “He can sleep with me,” she said.

Not for long
, thought Evan rather fiercely. He caught her in his arms and kissed her again, but she was resistant. He hoped to God she was merely constrained by the presence of her mother downstairs. He loosened his hold and murmured reassurances in her ear until she relaxed, pulling back to give him a quizzical little smile.

“What is it?” he asked. “You’re not angry with me for bringing her?”

She shook her head. “No. But I must go back to her.”

He’d taken his leave of them all and walked a brisk mile to the Manor.

His definition of Whately may have changed, but Evan still owed allegiance to his old friend. Among all the houseguests and wedding preparations the following day, a brief visit to the cottage was all he could manage. Already Julian’s curiosity was outstripping his natural reserve. He seemed to be courting his grandmother’s attention and preened under the small caress Evan witnessed. Mrs. Carlington was plainly enthralled with the child. And Evan could not tell how Deborah felt about any of it. She certainly evinced no delight at finding
him
on the doorstep. Had yesterday’s kiss been a figment of his desire?

Deborah was glad to see him go on that first day. Kissing her on the landing upstairs in full view of anyone below. Was he crazy?

She was caught up in a whirlwind of confusion. Her mother needed help she did not know how to give, Julian needed restraint and explanations, and Molly needed assistance with dinner. She could not possibly think about Evan until later. When she was alone.

Through the evening, the tension pulled tighter, like a thread about to snap. She tried not to inflict it on anyone else. They were not to blame.

By the time the house was quiet and everyone else asleep, she knew that she was angry, sickeningly angry. She wanted to scream. Cry. Break something valuable. Tear out her hair. One of those trite ways people react to rage and frustration. How
could
she have been so stupid, running into Evan’s arms as though—well, as though something had changed.

Nothing has changed
. She had met his sister, and his sister had been very kind to her. That was all. Marriage remained as impossible as it had ever been. She and Elizabeth had talked about many things, but Evan was not one of them. Only once was his name mentioned in conjunction with hers. That must indicate pretty accurately how Elizabeth felt.

And the night before her departure, when Deborah tried to ask why she came to Whately, Elizabeth silenced her.

Seething quietly as she listened to Julian breathing beside her, she had another depressing thought. As Evan said, he’d had no choice but to bring her mother here. What if that had been his only reason for seeking her out at all? Then she assaulted him, and he felt honor bound to pretend an emotion he did not feel.

It was hard to imagine. Was it possible to fake such a look as she’d seen in his eyes? He looked thinner and a bit haggard, but there could be many reasons for that. He’d certainly seemed enthusiastic. But maybe that was merely lust. What did she know about these things, after all? It would be humiliating. But it would also make it far easier to turn him away.