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Authors: Cheryl Ann Smith

BOOK: The School for Brides
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“She became involved with a man she mistakenly hoped would protect and care for her as she aged,” Harold countered sharply. “She saw his wealth and his title, and her defenses disappeared. She didn’t see his cruelty until it was too late. Now she might be dead.”
“Our situations are not the same,” Eva cried. “She was forced into her life by circumstances she could not overcome. His Grace is not a cruel man, and he does not own me.”
“What of His Grace?” Harold asked sharply. He leaned against the mantel and glowered. “What will he do once he tires of you, Eva? Will he throw you out of this house? If he calls in the notes, and you cannot pay, will debtors’ prison be your next address?”
“His Grace has promised Mother will always have a home here,” she snapped. Frustration sent burning bile up the back of her throat. “He will not break his word.”
“You know him so well?” he sneered.
Truthfully, she knew almost nothing about the duke. The doubts Harold had raised were similar to the doubts keeping her awake most nights. Her future had become tenuous, confused. Though she believed Nicholas would treat her mother well, his plans for her were less clear. What kind of man was he really? How well did she know him outside of his bed?
When she took a moment to look at those around her—Harold, Noelle, His Grace, the courtesans—she was surrounded by strangers. What did she know about any of them?
She jutted out her chin and refused to succumb to tears. Never had she felt so adrift, without arms to pull her back into the boat. If only she’d allowed herself to get close to others as she grew up. Then she wouldn’t feel so alone now.
“It is not your concern, Harold.”
“Not my concern?” He shook his head slowly as anger flushed his face. “It worries me every day that you and your mother could be left destitute on the whims of that man you bed. Has he made you any promises? Will he wed you?” At her silence, he threw up his hands. “I have sacrificed to watch over you, Eva, and you say it is not my concern?”
Sacrificed? Eva felt her resolve slip. She had never thought he might have a family, a profession he’d given up to stay with her and be her companion. Still, she had never asked him to sacrifice for her. Whatever he’d given up was of his free will.
Harold
was
her friend, as much as he could be, but he was still her employee. Now she wasn’t so sure which Harold she wished him to be. As a friend, he felt free to express his opinions. As an employee, he’d crossed into dangerous territory where His Grace was concerned.
She’d chosen to become the duke’s lover. Though she’d broken their tie, His Grace still had the power to force her back to his bed, though he had not yet done so. Was he plotting another seductive attack on her eager body? Could she ever be sure of his intentions?
If Harold did anything to jeopardize the tenuous relationship between her and the duke, he could cause them all irreparable harm.
She would send Harold on his way before she would risk her mother’s health and situation. “I don’t expect you to understand my reasons, Harold. They are my own.” She stood and faced him. “However, you need to remember this. You talk of sacrifices. I, too, have sacrificed. I have my work and I have my mother and I have you. I do not go to parties, I do not socialize. I have never had, nor will I ever have, a suitor who brings me flowers and asks me to take drives in the park. So if I allow myself a few stolen moments of pleasure in the arms of a man, you of all people should understand.”
Eva did not wait for his comment. She squared her shoulders and walked stiffly away.
 
 
H
arold watched her disappear and felt her hurt. Guilt kept him from following her. From the day he’d come to London and begun watching over Eva, he had left everything in his life behind. Oddly, the trio of footpads who had beaten him and stolen his purse had done him a service.
He’d had to find a way into her household without rousing suspicion, and his injuries had done that. And she’d never questioned him about his previous life. She’d simply cared for him until he was fit and then offered him a position in her household.
What had begun as a simple business agreement had grown into something deeper. He’d truly come to care for Eva and Charlotte. They were the family he’d lost. And he hated to see her lose any chance of happiness by giving herself to the duke, a man who would use and discard her. Yet, he knew how painfully lonely she was. If only she’d chosen a man who would love and care for her forever. Then he’d not begrudge her even one moment of happiness.
Harold knew he should sound a warning, but worried about the consequences of confiding all of Eva’s secrets. He’d already betrayed her, though she didn’t suspect it. Once he made his report, his part in this deceit would be finished and he’d be free to return home. It was the tangled threads of betrayal, and saying good-bye, that would be more difficult to settle in his already beleaguered conscience.
When the investigation of Miss Winfield had been proposed, he’d tried to refuse. But he was living in desperate straits with his coffers empty. An offer was made for a chance to live comfortably, in exchange for a few months’ work. Before he realized what was happening, he was dressed as a footman and in a coach on his way to London.
No. He would keep this to himself, for now. Eva was in no real danger, and a broken heart was survivable. Not that his employer cared what happened to Eva or her mother.
Harold winced. He cared.
Knowing Eva as he did, her heart was already engaged. She had given the man her innocence. She couldn’t separate her mind and body, though she might convince herself she could. One day soon, when the duke turned her out, she would crumble.
And it would take all the strength inside him not to go to Collingwood House and beat the bloody duke senseless.
Chapter Twelve
 
 
T
he silver ball gown was so lovely, like a shimmer of heavenly light, that Eva frowned at her reflection. The clinging fabric molded to her upper body as if she’d spent hours in fittings, and fell in delicate yards of silk and lace, shot through with lighter silver threads, from the bodice to the floor.
The color set off the hints of gold and copper in Eva’s upswept hair as she scowled. No fairy godmother with magic powers could have turned her so perfectly into a princess. She sparkled.
Eva met her sister’s eyes in the mirror. Noelle was immensely satisfied with herself. She hadn’t stopped humming since she’d arrived with the gown draped over her arm.
“This is your idea of plain?”
Noelle, resplendent in rose satin, smiled. Her fair hair was twisted at the back of her head in an elaborate creation that must have taken her maid half the afternoon to produce. Ruby earbobs dangled from her lobes and crystal-encrusted pins sparkled in her hair.
“I had the modiste take off the ribbons and bows to make the gown simpler,” Noelle offered with a shrug. She moved behind Eva and leaned over her shoulder. The light scent of roses drifted around her. “You look lovely. I could not have made a better choice myself.”
Eva narrowed her eyes. “You did choose it.”
Noelle giggled and reached for a jar of powder. “I did, didn’t I? I must have excellent taste.”
“And you are modest, too, sister.” The term “sister” no longer felt odd on her tongue. Only the two of them, and Harold, knew of their connection. Noelle had been passed off as a new friend, and the servants and her mother accepted it as fact.
Eva knew she should run to the wardrobe and pull out one of her drab spinster costumes, but could not bring herself to do so. She’d never had the occasion to wear such an exquisite creation, and vanity overcame any desire to take it off.
“With my beautiful sister at my side, it will be impossible to hide in the crowd,” Eva said. “The den of lions will be licking their chops with anticipation.”
The only thing Eva could do was pray she would not trip over the duke. He was the most ferocious beast of all.
“Nonsense.” Noelle put the jar down. “The only slavering happening this evening will come from the eager young bucks begging for an introduction to you.”
Eva worried her bottom lip. The dratted whisper of reason reared up, and she faltered in her resolve to enjoy the ball. Young bucks? Was she up to the task of flirting and dancing? Would she shame herself and her sister with her inexperienced bumbling? She had no formidable chaperone to hide behind if she desired a moment to collect herself, or to save her from an overzealous suitor.
Harold had promised to linger outside with the coach, on the chance she might need to make a speedy exit. Inside the manor, she was on her own with only Noelle for protection. The idea did not soothe her in the least.
What if His Grace attended the ball? It was not beyond comprehension that he would be there. He was trolling for a bride, and there would be many young women to choose from; a veritable flock of well-bred pigeons cooing for his attention. If Miss Banes-Dodd refused him, he’d have to do nothing more than stretch out an arm and collect a dozen young marriage-minded misses tottering along at his coattails.
Her frown deepened. He would laugh and dance and pick out a wife without giving a moment of thought to her. She, Eva, was utterly inconsequential to his future; a mistress easily replaced with another when he became bored.
The frown deepened to a scowl.
Suddenly, there was nothing more she wanted to do at this moment than to rush off to the ball and flirt with every man between eighteen and eighty who crossed her path.
The duke be damned.
Eva touched the tiny diamond earbobs she’d borrowed from her mother. Mother had been wearing them the night she met Eva’s father. Charlotte always considered them lucky.
If anyone needed luck tonight, it was Eva.
She hooked her arm through Noelle’s. “Shall we go?”
 
 
C
andles flickered from every window on the two lower floors of Pennington Manor as Noelle’s coach stopped in a line of other coaches. Eva peered out the window at the four-story brick monolith that overshadowed the smaller houses on either side of it in fashionable Grosvenor Square.
Eva’s initial rush of excitement was tempered slightly as Noelle pointed out each home they passed, with a brief description of the families within, including Collingwood House, which was two streets over. She had no business being in this world, and she knew it. Seeing Nicholas’s huge home confirmed again she’d never have a place at his side.
Women of questionable birth dared not dream such dreams.
She’d kept her face bland when Noelle spoke of the handsome, unattached duke, but her heart fluttered dangerously in her breast while unease settled in her bones. Noelle was a picture of serenity, but Eva was a jumble of nerves. Everyone who mattered in society’s inner circle would be attending this ball. He would be there, she had no doubt.
There was more than a chance this house of cards would tumble down and Noelle would be left picking through the devastation. If His Grace chose to unmask her as his mistress, nothing would save either sister.
“I think we should end this madness before it’s too late.” Eva touched her clasped hands to her mouth. “We can return home and eat fig cakes until our seams pop.”
Noelle brushed a piece of lint off her cloak. “Nonsense. I have the chance to show off my lovely sister, and I intend to do so proudly. Of course, we will introduce you as my cousin, but nonetheless I plan to laugh gaily and dance until my feet hurt. Then we shall dine on fattened pheasant and gritty oysters until we must let our corsets out. And if a handsome young man kisses my hand, I shall giggle like a silly goose and bat my lashes until he is desperately smitten.”
Eva giggled. Noelle was like an untamed wind blowing through the eaves. It was impossible not to get caught up in the vortex.
The coach inched forward. Noelle leaned out the window. “It takes longer to get to the front of the line than the ball is long. Cannot the guests disembark at a less leisurely pace?”
“Patience, Noelle. We are nearly there.”

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