Chapter 10

10

E velyn was in high dudgeon. Keen as usual to read the gossip column, she'd snatched up the paper before her brother was able to do so in order to read the latest gossip pertaining to last night's ball. What she had not expected was for her own name to appear as part of an outlandish lie that threatened to ruin her reputation completely.

"This season will be for nothing unless that story goes away," she grumbled, frowning into her teacup. "I still don't understand why someone would write such a falsehood about me."

"Neither do I," Adrian said. Seated adjacent to her at the head of the table, he glared at the paper she'd handed him just a few moments before. "Rest assured, I've every intention of figuring out who's behind this and having them write a retraction."

"Do you think that will help?"

"I expect so."

The tightness in his voice was evidence of his anger. Evelyn knew he attempted to hide it for her sake, but his expression alone was enough to freeze the air in the room.

Hoping to calm him, she thought of changing the subject by saying, "The front page should interest you too. Doesn't look like Mr. Benjamin Lawrence will be recovering from the fall he took last week. The poor man has lost the use of his legs completely."

Adrian tilted his head, his gaze meeting hers so sharply she gasped. "You'll need to be extra careful now," he said.

"Because of Mr. Lawrence?" She couldn't quite follow his logic. "I'm not sure I understand why a horse-riding accident—"

"Never mind Mr. Lawrence," Adrian said. "I'm speaking of your safety with regard to the rot that's been written about you. Let's not forget that whoever murdered Miss Fairchild, Lady Camille, and Miss Irvine seems to have targeted them because they lacked morals. Let's also not forget that he has yet to be apprehended."

"Don't you think he would have been if he were still out there?" Evelyn sipped her tea while considering. "It's been so long since Miss Irvine's death, I'm sure there's no cause for further alarm."

"Perhaps not," Adrian agreed. "Nevertheless, I urge you to stay at home until I get to the bottom of this."

"I have no issue with that. At present, socializing is the very last thing I'd like to do." She dreaded getting the cut, of being whispered about behind her back, or facing the censure she knew she'd find the moment she left the house.

Unlike Adrian, to her, people's opinions mattered. She wanted to be liked and knew she'd find it hard to ignore the response she was sure to receive because of some writer's words.

"Do you suppose another debutante might have made up the story because they were jealous?"

"I've no idea." He placed his hand over hers and gave it a squeeze. "Don't fret, Evie. The matter will be resolved one way or the other, I assure you."

But what if it wasn't? What if she would forever after be known as the harlot from whom not just one man but two sought their pleasure last night?

"Good lord." It suddenly felt as though there weren't enough air for her to breathe. "Whatever will Marsdale think when he reads this?"

If there was one man in all of England whose opinion mattered to her beyond anyone else's, it was his.

"I'm sure he'll have the good sense to dismiss it as nonsense," Adrian told her.

"You have to make sure." She couldn't bear the idea of Marsdale thinking ill of her for any reason. "Promise me you'll call on him first."

"My intention is to visit The Morning Post first. I'll stop by Marsdale House afterward." He huffed a breath and seemed to make some effort to relax as he grabbed a slice of toast and proceeded to butter it. "Perhaps we should get away for a week - visit Deerhaven while the worst of the gossip dissipates."

The suggestion pleased her immensely. The country estate would serve as a lovely distraction. "I'd like that. We could leave tomorrow after Miss Carmichael stops by for tea."

"An excellent idea, Evie. I'll leave you to manage the packing while I try to undo the damage done toward you."

An acceptable plan that kept her mind off the problem for the better part of the day. Until a missive arrived for her in the early afternoon. Her fingers trembled as she tore the seal. The message was brief, yet wonderfully calming. If Adrian didn't return home with answers, she now had the means to find them herself.

So she came to greet him as soon as she heard him arrive a while later. The somber expression he gave her, however, was far from uplifting.

"They've agreed to check the facts," he said as soon as the two were alone in the parlor. "If they find them lacking, a retraction will follow. Until then, I'm afraid we'll have to weather the storm."

"Were you able to speak with the author directly?"

"No." He muttered a curse. "The chief editor was extremely tight-lipped regarding her true identity. I've been assured that if the accusation made against you proves false, a public apology will follow, though it can take several days before this happens. I'm sorry, Evie. Truly."

"What about Marsdale?"

"He's outraged on your behalf. Doesn't believe a word of what was printed."

Evelyn breathed a sigh of relief. Thank goodness. "I've almost finished packing. What time would you like to set off tomorrow?"

"By three, provided Miss Carmichael has departed by then."

Evelyn agreed and went to collect the novel she wanted to read on the journey. The rest of the day passed without incident. Dinner was served at seven o'clock, according to the same routine they'd followed while Papa lived. They enjoyed a glass of port in the music room afterward where she played one of Haydn's sonatas at the pianoforte.

By nine thirty, she expressed her exhaustion and bid her brother good night before removing herself to her bedchamber. There she collected the missive she had received in the afternoon, grabbed her cloak, and descended the service stairs at the back of the house.

Moving swiftly while taking care to keep silent, she crossed to the terrace door, unlocked it, and slipped out into the chilly night air. The path to the fence at the end of the garden seemed more uneven in the darkness. She tripped a couple of times and fought the urge to cry out, lest anyone hear her.

Intended to keep unwanted people out as opposed to the residents in, the garden gate was easy enough to unlatch. She opened it, stepped through, and closed it as much as she could without actually locking it back into place.

The hour was, in her estimation, nearing ten. If she moved swiftly, she ought to be able to reach the appointed meeting place and return home within half an hour at most, provided she took a carriage.

Eager to settle into the comfort of her bed as soon as possible, Evelyn pulled her cloak's hood up over her head, walked to the next street corner, and hailed a hackney, directing the driver to take her to Smithfield Street. From there she'd walk the rest of the way. It shouldn't take more than five minutes at most.

Dressed as she was and without escort, she doubted anyone would think her more than a servant running a late-night errand. The driver certainly didn't pay her much mind. Nor did the two gentlemen she passed later after alighting from the carriage. Neither one acknowledged her presence with so much as the tip of his hat.

Satisfied she would complete her task without Adrian being the wiser, Evelyn crossed the street and entered St. Bartholomew's churchyard. The stones marking the graves appeared like crooked teeth in the darkness. A sweet scent from some nearby plant offered a pleasant escape from the somber surroundings.

Evelyn navigated her way to the back of the church, her eyes seeking the man she'd come here to meet. She heard him before she saw him, the gentle tread of footsteps behind her prompting her to suck in a breath as she turned.

"You came." His voice was whisper quiet.

"Of course I did. If the information you can provide will help put this viscous rumor about me to rest, then there's little I will not do to obtain it."

"Is that so?" He stepped toward her but his face remained cast in shadow. "The missive I sent you. Did you bring it?"

She raised her hand, showing it to him, and allowed him to take it. "You said you know who's behind the attack. Will you give me their name now?"

"A deal is a deal," he murmured, "but before we get to that, I wanted to tell you how much I enjoyed our dance together last night. You're an extraordinary woman. A pity you're not as innocent as you appear."

A chill swept under Evelyn's cloak. She forced herself to remain where she stood, to not back away as concern flooded her veins. "What are you saying?"

"Only that the incidents described by the paper weren't entirely false. Were they?"

Panic descended upon her in full force. "Of course they were. I would never do what that column suggested. Least of all at Marsdale's ball."

"Because you care for him." A humorless chuckle followed that statement. "And yet, you gladly accepted another man's attentions."

"No." She felt sick at the very idea of what he suggested.

"I saw you with my own eyes."

Evelyn stared at him in dismay while fear began squeezing her heart, stifling every consecutive beat. She shook her head. "Whatever you saw, or think you saw, I had no part in it."

"Oh, but you did. There was no mistaking the name your roguish companion used while you sighed in his arms. What astounds me the most is that someone else saw you as well, which can only mean that one illicit encounter was not enough to appease you for one evening."

"No. Something's not right." Her head spun as she tried to grapple with what he was saying. She had no idea how such a thing could be true. It had to be an illusion of sorts. But the lengths someone had gone to in order to wound her were extensive if that was the case.

"Agreed. Young women playing at innocence when they are anything but is rather misleading."

"You mistake my meaning. Good lord, I can't imagine what you must think of me if you believe what you saw to be true." Not that it mattered. He was just one single person, but if he gave her the name of the source who'd passed on the information to the newspaper columnist, maybe she could get to the bottom of what had transpired and change everyone else's opinion. She looked to the man she'd come to meet. "Tell me who the source is and I'll prove you're mistaken."

He was silent for a moment, an unmoving silhouette in the darkness. And then he said, "I'll want a favor in return."

"I wouldn't expect anything less." Aware that time was of the essence, Evelyn gathered her courage. She could not be gone from home for much longer. "Name your price."

His breathing grew louder. "Your surrender. Right here, right now."

She stiffened. "I don't understand your meaning."

He moved toward her with wraith-like fluidity. The cool palm of his hand settled gently against her cheek before curling around the back of her head and holding her steady. Another step brought him closer still while sending her already trembling pulse into a mad gallop.

"A passionate kiss," he murmured. "That is my price."

Although she had no desire to do as he asked, she reasoned it might be worth it. They were alone in the dark. Nobody else would know what she'd done. But the name he'd provide her with after would allow her to figure out what had transpired last night at the ball, and could potentially save her reputation.

Surely the benefit outweighed the cost.

Still…

"Will that be all?" she asked, just to be certain. "You'll not have expectations of courtship after?"

His answering chuckle had an unpleasant effect on her nerves. "Trust me, Miss Croft. Marrying you is the furthest thing from my mind, but a taste, that's something I can't quite resist."

She ought to slap him for insulting her so. She ought to leave. But she desperately wanted to know who'd betrayed her. So she steeled herself against what came next and gave a swift nod. "Very well."

To her consternation, his mouth did not descend over hers right away. Instead, he reached around her and drew her flush up against him. The action was so unexpected it forced a gasp from her throat.

He responded with a rough sound and pressed himself to her with firmness. Her back hit the side of the church, distracting her from his shift in position and the sudden press of his hips against hers.

"Please stop." She placed her palms against him, prepared to push him away. "This isn't the kiss I agreed to."

"Come now," he murmured, moving against her with added force. "We both know you secretly want this."

"You're wrong."

He slowed his movements, causing a forceful sensation to stir deep inside her. A wicked chuckle echoed next to her ear. "Am I?"

To her everlasting shame, her body responded to what he was doing with pleasure, and the keen desire for more.

It made no sense. She did not long for this man. She yearned for Marsdale, but it was as if some foreign power had taken possession of her free will, igniting a fire she could not control.

"Like that, do you," he asked when a soft moan escaped her. His voice was gruff, almost accusatory. A snort followed. "You almost had me deceived for a moment – made me question whether or not I'd misjudged you. But it's clear to me now that I didn't."

It was hard to untangle his words when it felt like a maelstrom was rising inside her. Before she could sort out his meaning, he captured her mouth in a kiss so aggressive she failed to notice the sharp metal tip pressing into her throat.