The School for Brides (24 page)

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Authors: Cheryl Ann Smith

BOOK: The School for Brides
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Eva belonged to him. Hell, he’d taken her virginity. He’d left his imprint on her, and no other man had the right to breach his claim. Yet, he could not go to her, claim her as his in front of such esteemed company.
This left him in a state of blinding frustration.
“You seem taken with Miss Harrington, my son.” Mother tapped his arm with her fan. They both watched Eva laugh at some witticism from Farrell as he strolled with her about the crowded room. “You must be careful, or Lucy will take offense.”
Nicholas forced his attention downward to his mother. She’d seen something in him when he watched Eva. Undoubtedly, deep groin-twisting lust. He had to squelch it before she was inviting Eva over for tea and pressing her for her history.
“About whom are you speaking, Mother?”
Her green eyes flashed. “The young lady in silver you haven’t taken your eyes off all evening.” She narrowed her eyes and peered at Eva. “I understand she’s Lady Seymour’s cousin from somewhere near the Scottish border. Though there is some speculation the tale may be tall.”
“She is lovely,” Nicholas conceded as casually as he could manage through gritted teeth. Farrell had been run off by a man of higher standing, the charming and handsome Earl of Wayborn. He bent to speak to Eva, and she smiled. The man held out his arm and she took it, tucking her hand under his elbow.
The blasted Wayborn led her across the ballroom and into the dining hall, where tables laden with food awaited the guests. The tinkle of her laughter drifted back to him even after she was no longer visible.
Perhaps there would be bloodshed this evening after all.
He forced himself to remain calm. “There are many lovely women in attendance this evening, Mother. Including Lucy. I have not devoted more than a glance to any one in particular.”
“Indeed? Not more than a glance? Hmm,” Catherine said. “Then why have you not danced with Lucy all evening? You seem content to glare at the mysterious cousin. Would you to like to tell me why? What is she to you?”
Nicholas wanted to deny it all, to keep his mother from discovering Eva’s identity. But the duchess wouldn’t be put off with half-truths. Since his birth, she’d known every lie he’d ever told, and punished him for each one. If he was to work his way back to sanity, his mother was the one to help.
“She is my mistress,” he said bluntly. He paused, waiting for some expression of outrage, some gasp of surprise. Instead, she was oddly silent for a very long moment before she nodded.
“I see.”
Those two words worried him. His mother was never one to hold back either her praise or her scorn. She spoke her mind freely, and more often than not, her intuition proved deadly accurate. If only she’d been as careful when choosing his father, she wouldn’t have suffered so many years of unhappiness.
“That is all you have to say, Mother?”
Catherine held his stare. “What should I say, Nicholas? Why is she here? Who is she really? How does she know Lady Seymour? What about Lucy? What do you intend to do about this?”
Nicholas let out a sigh, squelching a smile. His mother had weathered bigger storms, including his dead father’s propensity to openly flaunt his indiscretions all about London. To discover her son’s mistress at the same ball as her friends and acquaintances must be low on her level of shocking.
“She is Evangeline Winfield. She is Lady Seymour’s half sister. Lord Seymour fathered her out of wedlock with his cherished courtesan.”
This time her eyes widened. Clearly his mother wasn’t entirely unflappable. “You took an earl’s by-blow, sister to Lady Seymour, to bed? Nicholas, what were you thinking?”
“In all fairness, Mother, I was just made aware of their connection this evening when I discovered her here, of all places. Imagine my surprise when our kiss on the terrace was interrupted by the furious Lady Noelle. Between the two women, I am lucky I still have my head.”
Catherine gaped, then her mouth slowly melted into a smile. “You were taken to task by a courtesan’s daughter and her Lady sister? If only I had been there to witness the confrontation! I would have found it far more entertaining than this evening has proved to be thus far.” She paused. “In fact, the night is looking brighter.”
Nicholas’s mouth thinned at the raw good humor on her pretty features. There had been years during his childhood when she never smiled at all. His father’s death had brought back her laughter.
“I am pleased you find the situation so entertaining, Mother. Now the question begs, how can I solve this situation?”
“What are your choices? Cast her to the gossips and ruin Lady Seymour; then shame Lucy and her family and ours?” Catherine nodded to passing guests and lifted her fan. “You should ask yourself what your feelings for Miss Winfield are and what
you
intend to do about her.”
“What can I do?” He felt deflated. Lady Seymour had taken Eva out of the shadows and introduced her to society. Even if he could convince Eva that spending time in society could be harmful to her and her mother, Lady Seymour was a complication. The woman wouldn’t accept a continued arrangement between himself and Eva. “By morning, she will be the most sought-after young woman of the Season.”
Mother laughed lightly. “I have never seen you so out of sorts with any woman, Nicholas. This woman has wriggled her way into your head. And perhaps your heart.”
His head snapped around. “I do not love her.” The protest was too quick, and did nothing to remove her knowing stare. “I have seen what love can do. You loved Father, and yet he mistreated you dreadfully.”
Finally, she sobered. “Oh, Nicholas.” She placed a hand on his arm. “Do not allow your parents’ mistakes to keep you from love. I was young and smitten by a handsome face. I didn’t look inside to see the darkness in Charles.” She shook her head sadly. “You are not your father.”
“Miss Winfield would argue that point.” He’d lived his life climbing out from under his father’s shadow, only to treat Eva in as beastly a fashion as his father had treated his mother. He’d allowed his father’s example to blind him to Arabella’s unhappiness, too. He felt a flush of guilt. “There are many reasons for Miss Winfield to despise me.”
The duchess turned toward the dining hall. “I think you are mistaken, Nicholas. Miss Winfield cares for you more than she knows.”
She waved to an acquaintance, then faced him. “She watches you as you watch her. I think you should put off your engagement until you have settled matters with Miss Winfield.”
Nicholas nodded, then noticed his mother go still.
“Dear Lord! Is she the child of Charlotte Rose?” At his nod, all the color fled her face. “Oh, Nicholas, you have stepped into a pit of mire.” She took his arm and led him to a small padded bench in a private corner, then dragged him down beside her. “Charlotte Rose was the impoverished daughter of the Count and Countess Moreau of France. She was sixteen when her parents were killed, and she became the ward of her elderly English aunt, Lady Cordelia Winfield Suttleby. I don’t know all the details, but three years later, after Lady Suttleby died, her small fortune went to her one remaining male relative.”
Catherine sighed, her eyes troubled. “The girl vanished.”
Nicholas felt every word slam into his head. Eva was French nobility? He
had
stumbled into mire, up to his neck. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear the rest of the tale. However, to know what he was dealing with, he needed all the details. “Continue.”
“London was abuzz when she resurfaced several months later and caused quite a scandal in the Ton. There were so many rumors about her and where she’d been. All we knew for certain was that she was looking for a protector, and all the men desired to take their place in her bed. I knew this sorrowful tale because your father made sure I understood he planned to be the victor.”
He knew Father was a bastard, but this went too far.
The duchess tapped her fan on her knee. “In spite of his best attempts, your father had to concede when she chose Lord Seymour. Then one day she vanished, this time for good. Eventually the whispers and speculation settled, and that was that. I guess we now know the final chapter of the story.”
“Eva.” His brain pulsed inside his skull. Eva was no longer just a spinster and a courtesan’s daughter. She was a count’s granddaughter, a lady’s sister, his courtesan. He should run from her, marry Lucy, and retire to obscurity deep in the country. That would be best for everyone.
When had his orderly world become so upended? He scowled. Oh, yes, the moment he’d found out she’d stolen Arabella and had vowed revenge.
“Do you care for the girl, Nicholas?”
“Of course I care for her, Mother,” he snapped. “We have shared intimacies. But do not look for more. I will not wed her, if that is what is spinning around in your head.”
He scanned the room. Lucy was chattering with the dashing Mister Albright. No amount of will could summon up even a trace of jealousy. Even if she dropped to her back on the marble floor and invited him to take her innocence in front of this company, Nicholas wouldn’t care. His every thought and desire had focused on Eva from the moment he discovered a few stray red-blonde hairs peeking out from beneath that damnable wig.
Deep within him, he suspected it would always be so.
“Perhaps you
should
marry the girl,” Mother said softly. “Clearly, you are taken with each other.”
It was Nicholas who was surprised. His mother suggested marriage to someone with Eva’s background? It was outlandish to consider it. “Imagine the scandal, Mother. No matter the blue blood in her veins, her mother was a courtesan, and that cannot be ignored. I must choose a woman with an impeccable reputation.”
“So you say.” Mother shrugged. “Our family has weathered worse scandals. Your great-great-grandfather was a highwayman, though never caught, and your great-grandmother was a sixteen-year-old milkmaid. I think your great-grandfather discovered her walking along the road, became smitten, and ran off to Gretna Green with her that very day.” She smiled. “Theirs was a long and loving union.”
Eva walked back into the ballroom on the earl’s arm, as comfortable with him as if they were old friends. Her beauty complemented the impeccably dressed man at her side. They were a handsome pair.
Frustration welled within Nicholas. Again. He had to put an immediate stop to the earl’s pursuit, or Eva would be engaged to the rake and lost to him forever.
Her face drew him like a siren song. He gave his mother a quick nod, excused himself, and crossed the room.
“I would love to call on you tomorrow afternoon, My Lady,” the earl was saying as Nicholas drew near. “Certainly, your entire day is not completely filled.”
Eva had just opened her mouth when Nicholas appeared before her and took her hand. “I fear Miss Winfield will not be taking callers. She has promised me a picnic.” He drew her away from her smitten suitor and onto the dance floor. The first strains of a waltz rose. He pulled her closer than was entirely proper.
“How dare you?” Eva managed to force a smile for the curious onlookers. “Who I spend time with is none of your affair, Your Grace.”
He cocked a brow. “Is it not?” He spun her slowly around the floor. Her beauty challenged his ability to breathe. And for the second time this night, he found delight in having her in his arms. “Bedding you made it my business.”
“Oh”—Eva turned pink—“you are insufferable.”
“Indeed?” He grinned. “Most women find me charming.”
 
 
E
va wanted to kick him in the shin, hard. Unfortunately, this was not the place to do it without setting the gossips buzzing. There was already too much speculation about her. She’d caused a stir among the men in the company. The young women, and their mamas, were not happy with her presence at the ball. She’d had to fend off several proposals, proper and otherwise, and ignore biting speculation about her true identity. If she gave in to the impulse to kick the duke, it would not help her cause.
“Charming?” She laughed scornfully to hide her hurt. “You called me a whore.”
His face tightened. “A moment I gravely regret, Eva. I was shocked to find you here and I said something I didn’t mean.” He eased back enough for her to see his face. “I do not think of you that way.”
The apology was heartfelt. Some of her hurt faded. “Apology accepted. I still do not find you charming. Not in the least.”
A slow grin lifted his mouth. “Indeed? It is one of the things women love most about me, besides my handsome face and superior form, of course.”
She choked on a laugh. He was simply arrogant to the bone.
And yet, in his arms she felt as if she were dancing on clouds. He was so male, so powerful, so handsome. Every part of her was aware of his presence, and a familiar ache grew within her. She wished they were alone.
“I suppose when one is hoping to marry a duke with an immense fortune,” she said, “it would be to any woman’s advantage not to mention your less than, um, attractive faults.”
“Faults? Interesting.” He turned his face into grim mask that didn’t remove the mischief in his eyes. “Now that you have pointed out that I have some faults, I think you should make me a list so I can work on changing them all.”

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