Chapter Nineteen

CHAPTER NINETEEN

EVELINE/HELENA

"P erhaps it's best if I leave." Ernest appeared in the parlor doorway, his face cycling through various shades of red.

Eveline—it seemed appropriate to refer to herself as such now that Ernest inadvertently revealed her secret—pushed up from the sofa pillow.

"Tell me that you didn't punch the Duke of Lennox."

"I should have," Ernest said, walking to the fireplace and warming his hands in front of the fire. "However, after the difficulties that arose from my arrival this morning?—"

"Please stay." Eveline wiped a tear from her cheek with her palm. "I'll be alone."

"We're not leaving, either." Miss Webb strode into the room carrying a silver tea tray laden with a teapot, cups, and saucers.

"You're not?" Eveline's heart nearly burst from her chest.

Miss Webb and her sister exchanged a glance as they sat. "We discussed the situation, and we believe your decision to hide your identity wasn't meant to be cruel toward us."

"However," Miss Fernsby-Webb said, lifting the teapot and filling the cups, "we have some questions."

Before Ernest protested, Eveline nodded, folding her hands and setting them on her lap. "What would you like to know?"

"The fiancé that you jilted, is he dangerous?" Miss Fernsby-Webb held out a cup and saucer.

"To me, most definitely." Eveline's hands trembled as she accepted the teacup. "To others, I'm uncertain. Humphrey showed his true nature on a handful of occasions, but the day I rejected him…"

Eveline shuddered and dropped her gaze to the steaming liquid.

"He struck me so hard that I passed out for several minutes. When I awoke, he'd vanished, leaving me on the floor of his study with a note shoved in my hand that read that only he would determine when our relationship ended."

"Why didn't you inform your brother?" Miss Webb gestured toward Ernest with her cup.

"I did." Out of the corner of her eye, Eveline caught Ernest's flinch. "He thought I was being fanciful."

Hanging his head, Ernest sank beside her on the sofa and squeezed her hand. "It wasn't until after Eveline disappeared that I witnessed Humphrey's vicious inclinations, and I knew Eveline's decision saved her life."

Eveline's head whipped toward her brother. "Did Humphrey hurt you?"

Ernest didn't reply, but the crinkle around his eyes belied his silence.

"I'm confused," Miss Fernsby-Webb said, returning her teacup to the silver tray. "If you intended to remain hidden from this vile fiancé, why would you send for your brother?"

"She didn't," Ernest replied, digging the letter from his pocket. "This isn't her hand."

Miss Fernsby-Webb took the crumpled paper, unfolded it, and scanned the words. "If you suspected she hadn't written the missive, why did you come?"

"I hadn't seen Eveline in three months." The corner of his mouth pulled. "I came, hoping it was her and praying it wasn't."

"If Miss Rowe—Braddock," Miss Fernsby-Webb corrected herself as she handed the page to her sister, "didn't send this request for assistance, then who did?"

"I wondered the same thing," a deep voice said from the doorway.

"Merritt!" Jumping from her chair, Miss Webb dropped the missive, raced across the parlor, and dove into the Duke of Roxburghe's open arms.

"They do that frequently," Miss Fernsby-Webb said, rolling her eyes.

"I think it's sweet," Eveline said, bending and collecting the letter from the floor.

"Then you live with them after the wedding."

Miss Webb detangled herself from the Duke of Roxburghe.

"That might not be a terrible idea. When Mr. Braddock returns home, he leaves Miss Braddock exposed to not only her angry fiancé but the person who wrote the letter, and a duke's residence would most certainly provide protection."

"Of course," the Duke of Roxburghe said, his intense gaze landing on Eveline. "We'll offer any assistance you need."

He'd rescind his kindness when he discovered she'd stolen from his friends to pay for Miss Drummond's silence. She'd have no other option but to leave Wiltshire and return to her brother's home.

A deep frown creased Ernest's forehead. "You don't share the same opinion of my sister as your friend?"

The Duke of Roxburghe reached out, wrapping his hand around Miss Webb's, and lifted her fingers to his mouth. "My dear Nora suffered from a similar unfortunate situation."

"What happened to her fiancé?"

"His sister murdered him."

"I won't be as fortunate." Releasing a shaky sigh, Eveline shifted her attention to Ernest. "I know who sent you the missive. Selina Drummond."

"Humphrey's sister?" Ernest's jaw hit his chest. "How does she know you're in Wiltshire?"

"She's visiting her cousin, Miss Arabella Venning, for the season." Eveline wadded the letter into a tight ball. "We met several nights ago when they attended the game night we hosted. I hoped she wouldn't recognize me with my different hair color, but I didn't fool her."

And she's extorting money from me.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Miss Webb asked, dragging the Duke of Roxburghe over and reclaiming her seat. "We would have?—"

"Asked her to leave?" Miss Fernsby-Webb interrupted. "That would have resulted in a larger scandal."

"And questions," Eveline added, rising and walking to the fireplace.

She dropped the crushed missive into the cracking fire, watching the flames lick over the paper. Ernest stood and moved beside her.

"Does Miss Drummond intend to inform her brother of your location?" he asked, his voice quiet.

The room fell silent, all the occupants holding their collective breaths as they waited for Eveline's response.

"She hadn't decided," Eveline replied, widening her eyes in a futile attempt to communicate to her brother the nefarious terms of Miss Drummond's silence.

"We'll speak with her," the Duke of Roxburghe said, gesturing toward Ernest.

"No!" Spinning around, Eveline took a step away from the fireplace. "That is, Miss Drummond is already aware that Ernest has arrived—or will be arriving shortly—and she expects a commotion."

"What do you suggest?" Ernest asked, turning her toward him. "That we lie?"

"No more lies," the Duke of Roxburghe said, squeezing Miss Webb's hand, then releasing it. "We refer to Miss Braddock as Miss Braddock and act as though anyone who thought otherwise was mistaken."

"That is devious," Miss Fernsby-Webb chuckled, winking at the Duke of Roxburghe. "I love it!"

Miss Webb touched the Duke of Roxburghe's arm. "Will you convince your friends to support the scheme?"

"All but Lennox." The Duke of Roxburghe grimaced, averting his gaze from Eveline. "He may bow out for the remainder of the season."

"I'm sorry," Eveline whispered.

Ernest grabbed her arm before she could rush from the room.

He shook his head. "Stop running, Eveline."

"I've made such a mess of everything," she said, a tear dripping down her cheek.

"I've never known you to cry," Ernest said, handing her a handkerchief. "Yet you've wept three times since my arrival this morning. Where is my fearless sister? The one who used to steal my trousers and climb apple trees in the neighbor's orchard?"

Twisting away, Eveline covered her face with the cloth. "Humphrey frightened her out of me."

"No, he didn't." Ernest turned Eveline and pulled the handkerchief away, forcing her to stare into his eyes. "You're here. You came alone. You created a new life for yourself. I can't think of anything braver."

Miss Fernsby-Webb stood. "And we won't allow Miss Drummond to force you into hiding."

"What are you suggesting?" Miss Webb said, her eyes glinting.

"There must be some type of amusement we can attend this evening." Miss Fernsby-Webb glanced at the Duke of Roxburghe. "To show Miss Braddock isn't afraid of Miss Drummond or her brutish brother."

"There's a new play that opened at the theater last week," the Duke of Roxburghe replied after a moment.

"I thought you and my sister attended the opening."

He glanced at Miss Webb, who exploded into scarlet.

"We missed most of the performance," the Duke of Roxburghe finally said with a grin, earning a growl from Miss Fernsby-Webb as he danced away from her ire. "I'll invite Beaufort and Mansfield to join us. I'm certain they'd like to meet Miss Braddock."

Ernest patted Eveline's shoulder as he scooted around her. "Your Grace, may I suggest meeting myself and the ladies outside the theater? Then, your coach won't need to return here later this evening."

The Duke of Roxburghe appeared as though he wanted to argue against the suggestion but couldn't think up an excuse.

After a moment, he inclined his head and said, "Mr. Braddock, I'd like a word with you in private."

Ernest followed the Duke of Roxburghe to the foyer, then low rumbles crawled into the parlor. Despite slinking past the doorway, Eveline couldn't decipher their whispered conversation. The front door opened and shut before she strolled past the opening again.

Darting across the room, Eveline flung herself onto the sofa and reached for her teacup just as Ernest walked back into the parlor.

"Would you show me which chamber holds my trunk?" He gestured toward the staircase. "I'd like to change my clothing, and I'm certain all three of you would prefer to dress for the evening."

"The first chamber on the left," Eveline replied, rising and walking toward him. "Next to mine."

The exact chamber that housed the Duke of Lennox the night he kissed her. When she and Mrs. Hawkins deposited Ernest's trunk earlier that day, the room still possessed a faint residue of the Duke of Lennox's seductive scent.

Eveline and Ernest climbed the stairs together, neither of them speaking. Certain she owed his silence to the presence of Miss Webb and Miss Fernsby-Webb, Eveline grasped his arm and leaned in.

"You've not yelled at me as I expected," she murmured, barely moving her lips.

"My anger melted into worry a fortnight after your disappearance." He grimaced, pausing on the second-floor landing. "I accused Humphrey of committing a violent act against you."

"Did he demand satisfaction?" Eveline asked, her chest constricting.

Ernest shifted his gaze, avoiding Eveline's eyes. "I lost."

She threw her arms around his neck and drew him into a tight hug. "Never do anything foolish like that again! Swear to me. Humphrey is dangerous, and you're… not as proficient at violence."

"I'll agree if you stop strangling me."

"Oh!" She released him with a sheepish grin.

They agreed to meet in the foyer in one hour, and then each disappeared into their chamber. Nervous energy coursing through Eveline, she dressed at breakneck speed, her body blurring as she zipped about the room.

Rushing toward the dressing table, Eveline caught her foot on the bed covers and fell, crashing to the floor with a loud yelp. Her door flew open, and Ernest, half-dressed, burst into the chamber.

"Is everything alright?" he panted, his gaze flying around the room.

"I tripped," she said, using the mattress for support as she climbed to her feet.

Ernest exhaled a deep sigh, relief ebbing into his face. He turned, paused, and turned back. After striding over to the bed, he knelt, stuck his hand under the frame, and pulled out the Duke of Lennox's ruby ring.

"You must be more careful," Ernest scolded, marching to the dressing table and dropping the ring into her jewelry box. "It would be a shame to lose such a beautiful piece."

She knew he wanted to ask how she obtained the ring. She felt the question on his tongue, but he restrained his curiosity and exited without another word.

Eveline stared at the ring. The ruby glimmered in the firelight, a taunting reminder of a happiness she'd never experience.

She brushed her finger over the stone, swallowing the mound of sand growing in her throat. Cold . Just like the Duke of Lennox had been when he learned of her deception. The probability he'd attend the theater that evening was low, and the realization relieved and disheartened her.

"Miss Braddock, are you ready to depart?" Miss Webb asked from the doorway.

"Yes." Snapping the jewelry box shut, Eveline spun around and forced a smile, blocking her dressing table with her body. "I do hope the play is a comedy."

During the coach ride to the theater, Miss Webb and Miss Fernsby-Webb took turns beginning various topics of conversation. However, despite their best efforts, neither of them drew Eveline from her melancholy. After her sixth one-word reply, they gave up and fell silent.

The line of carriages waiting to drop off their occupants stretched around the block. With each passing minute, Eveline thought of another excuse to forego the evening and flee the coach.

"If you prefer," Miss Fernsby-Webb said, leaning forward and placing a gentle hand on Eveline's knee, "we will carry on referring to you as Miss Rowe. No one else needs to know the truth."

Eveline shook her head, her eyes sliding to the window. "Miss Drummond wanted my secret revealed; now it is."

"However," Ernest said, bumping Eveline's shoulder, "we will depart the moment you make the request."

Nodding, Eveline kept her gaze on the people passing their coach. She hoped to see the Duke of Lennox's familiar black hair among the throng and, at the same time, feared his reaction if he discovered her at the same event.

"He won't come," Ernest murmured as he reached around Eveline and opened the coach door.

Stepping down onto the street, he glanced to his left and right as though ensuring the accuracy of his words, then spun and held out his arm.

"How can you be certain?" asked Eveline as she descended from the cabin.

"Were I in the Duke of Lennox's position, my only goal would be inebriation." Ernest winked. "The theater would interrupt that noble aim."

She laughed, the chunk of ice surrounding her heart loosening.

"Miss Rowe?" Miss Drummond's melodious voice sent a shiver slithering down Eveline's spine.

Eveline turned and pasted a giant smile on her face. "You must have mistaken me for someone else. My name is Eveline Braddock, and this is my brother, Ernest."

Ernest offered a curt bow. "I'm certain you remember us, Miss Drummond. Your brother and I conducted business together on a handful of occasions."

"Yes," Miss Drummond said, dragging out the word, then curtsying. "Of course, Mr. Braddock. How lovely to see you again. I didn't know you intended to visit."

"Eveline sent for me." Ernest wrapped his arm around Eveline's shoulders, giving her a tight squeeze. "She said it was an emergency, and only I could assist her."

"Good evening, Miss Rowe," Miss Venning said, appearing behind Miss Drummond, holding her father's arm.

"It's Braddock," Miss Drummond corrected, a hint of irritation in her tone.

Miss Venning frowned. "Is it? I apologize, Miss Braddock. I've referred to you by the incorrect name since our first introduction."

"You aren't the only one," Miss Drummond murmured, her narrowed eyes skating over Eveline.

"Did you invite them?" Mr. Venning asked, giving Miss Venning a nudge toward Eveline.

"Of course, Papa." She patted his arm. "My father would like me to remind you that we expect to see all of you at our ball later this week."

"I'll not accept inclement weather as an excuse," he said, his wrinkled face breaking into a smile. "Miss Webb, I hope you'll convince your fiancé and his friends to join us for the festivities."

"We've been anticipating your event for weeks," Miss Webb replied as she and Miss Fernsby-Webb joined them. "Nothing short of death will keep us from attending."

Squinting, Miss Fernsby-Webb leaned forward and said, "That's an exquisite necklace, Miss Drummond."

"Thank you." Miss Drummond's fingers hovered over the piece, a dark grin growing on her face. "I recently acquired it."

"It's beautiful," Miss Webb said, a strange light glowing in her eyes. "Miss Braddock, it appears quite similar to your mother's necklace."

"Yes, it does," Eveline said, hoping Ernest wouldn't recognize the jewelry and demand its return. "That design seems quite popular. Shall we head inside?"

They fell into line, walking in pairs toward the theater entrance. Miss Drummond wormed between Eveline and Ernest, then stepped in front of Eveline, preventing her from following the rest of the group into the theater.

"You may think you've bested me," Miss Drummond said, lowering her voice. "However, I know something you fear above all else."

"Which is?" Eveline asked, glaring at Miss Drummond.

"My brother," Miss Drummond sneered. "In addition to the four hundred pounds, I want one hundred pounds monthly, or I'll advise Humphrey exactly where to find you, and no brother or duke will prevent the horrific punishment he'll exact upon you."

Eveline folded her arms. "I refuse."

"Do you think your new friends will help you?" Miss Drummond issued a chilling laugh. "I pity anyone who dares stand up to Humphrey's wrath… The last man died."

Chuckling, Miss Drummond strolled into the theater, leaving Eveline trembling on the walk.

"Eveline?" Ernest reappeared and grabbed Eveline's arm as she swayed. "Are you ill?"

"I am," she replied faintly. "Would you be terribly disappointed if I returned to the house?"

"Do you want me to escort you?"

Eveline shook her head. "Stay. Enjoy the performance."

"I know you're hiding something from me." Ernest didn't release her. "What did Miss Drummond say to you?"

Swallowing, Eveline glanced over his shoulder, ensuring no one hovered close enough to overhear her confession.

"There's something else I haven't shared." She drew Ernest further away from the theater. "Miss Drummond demanded that I pay her several large sums as well as a monthly stipend for her silence. If I don't, she'll send Humphrey after me, you, and anyone else who stands in his way."

Ernest puffed up his chest. "I'm not afraid, Eveline."

"I am." She wrapped her arms around him, embracing him. "And I won't allow Humphrey to hurt you again."

"What do you intend to do?"

Her mouth crooked. "Disappear again."

Pain flashed through his eyes. "Are you going to tell me where this time?"

"I swear I will write to you once I'm settled," she said, releasing Ernest and turning away.

She crashed into a thick wall of flesh and rebounded with a groan.

"Please excuse me," she said, raising her head and gasping when the Duke of Lennox's blazing brown eyes locked on her.