Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

T here were many duties that a duchess had, but one of the more pleasing ones was to partake in local festivities, Evangeline discovered. This time, the duke had not provided her a dress—the event was far less formal—but she looked through her wardrobe until she found a red gown to wear.

Just to show unity , she told herself. Nothing to do with the light she saw in his eyes as she descended the staircase, one hand lightly on the banister. Nothing to do with the almost possessive way he pulled her to his side, as though he suspected the world of wanting to draw her away.

Nothing to do with the murmured, "You look well," he offered her as they walked to where the carriage was waiting.

The carriage ride was not long, and then they were in the village, descended into a fete. There was laughter everywhere, festivities clear as day, with bright flags fluttering and party games and prize pigs being proudly displayed by the incumbent farmers.

Margaret, who had elected to remain in the castle, had told Evangeline about these events, and the requirements of a duchess in them.

"It's an honor, really," she said. "Although you may have to guide me as to what is an excellent quality of a pig."

Hugh looked as though he was tempted to smile, but his voice was grave as he said, "size is usually the deciding factor."

"I suppose that makes sense." She tipped her head back to the sunlight. "What a delight it is to be here."

"Is that so?"

"It's a wonderful village, and I think I am even learning the accent."

"That is something to rejoice in, I agree," he said.

There was something else she liked: being on his arm. The more she learned about the reclusive duke, the more she wanted to be seen with him. The more of an honor it felt to be his wife, even if he had not selected her in a strictly traditional way.

"Should we play a game?" she asked as they passed a stall where one could throw a ball into a bucket. "Margaret says it's important to show willing and lessen the distinction between us and them, while never denying rank. Or perhaps—look, what's that?"

"That's a carousel," Hugh said, and she watched as donkeys walking in a circle spun the large contraption around.

Animals hung from large chains and laughing children were atop.

"They are often seen at traveling fairs. You're too young to have appreciated it, but in 1803 there was a carousel in Joseph Merlin's Mechanical Museum in London. As I understand it, it was quite the spectacle."

"Are you interested in mechanical workings?"

"As much as any man," he said. "I think they have a great deal of use, and they shall be behind many advancements—there have already been many advancements using mechanics—but I am not interested in patenting any of my own."

She grinned at him. "Too busy running your estate."

"Precisely. But it is important to remain up to date on new farming equipment and techniques."

"Naturally," she said, remembering Margaret's lessons. "And to consider sheep-breeding, because that is what the north subsists on. Sheep farming and mines."

There was a hint of appreciation in his eyes as he glanced down at her. "Precisely."

Thrilled at her victory, she paid a penny for five minutes on the carousel, missed the bucket with all three of her wooden balls, to Hugh's amusement, and returned to the pigs for the final judging.

Margaret had stressed the importance of choosing a winner, rather than seeking to appease all farmers, and after some internal deliberation, she pointed.

"That one is the biggest."

The farmer in question gave her a large, toothy smile. The crowd around them cheered, and for one of the first times since she had arrived in the north, she felt as though she could truly belong here. Not just live, but belong .

"You did well today," he said as they bit into a candied apple they'd bought from one of the vendors. "You've learned a great deal."

"Thank you."

"There is a ball next week that we should attend. This is another opportunity for you to join me, if you would."

Evangeline smiled. A ball—this was where she excelled.

"Of course," she said. "Before my Season, my parents hired a dancing master. Of all places, I think I am most confident in a ballroom."

"You enjoy dancing?"

"Beyond all things." She couldn't help the wistful smile that sprang to her lips. "When you brought me here, I thought that would be the end of all balls."

"We are in the north, Evangeline, not the wilderness," he said dryly. "We still entertain, if not with the same frequency as in London."

"Nor with the same manners," she said, remembering the dinner. "Is it so very rare for ladies to move here?"

"From London? Quite rare." He shrugged. "I am the largest landowner around, and as you can see, you are my first wife."

"Your only wife," she said pointedly.

A twitch at the corner of his mouth was his own sign of amusement. "Yes, very well. My only wife. But many others do not travel to London. It is less far to travel to Edinburgh."

"Scotland?" she asked with interest.

His father had brought him up largely in Scotland, and she imagined him painted like the Picts, hiding amongst heather in the misting rain. A romantic image, to be sure, if unrealistic.

"Yes, we're very close to Scotland here."

"Do you like the country?"

A muscle in his jaw flexed. "I have no strong opinions about it."

"Have you spent a lot of time in Edinburgh?"

"Very little since I was a boy," he said, and she thought the conversation was over before he added, "My father died in Scotland, and since then, I have had little inclination to return."

She remembered what Margaret had said about the mode of his father's death, and she shivered a little.

"Were you close with your father?"

He appeared to think, the tightness around his mouth softening. But his jaw was still tight. "I suppose you could say I was. My father was a cruel man in many ways, but I would not be the man I am now, with the power I now wield, without him."

"And are you happy with the man you are now?"

A flurry of emotions crossed his face, each too fast for her to read, until he eventually glanced down at her. "I take it you are not, wife of mine."

"I never said that," she protested.

"No, but the implication was in every word. Tell me, what is your opinion of my character?"

A dangerous question. She felt a little as though she were an acrobat balanced high upon a wire. Once, she had seen a man do just that in Vauxhall Gardens, and the entire time, she had been convinced he would fall.

"How can you expect me to answer that?" she returned playfully, tapping his arm in remonstrance.

"Very easily."

"I think you are a good leader of men." She looked at the castle as they approached. "I also think you are a very proud man. Both of who you are and what you have inherited."

"I inherited my pride," he murmured, looking at her with a new speculation. "Just as I inherited the land I own. I suspect one cannot come without the other."

"Perhaps. And I never meant to suggest that your pride was a bad thing," she hurried to say.

"No? But you do believe I have some bad qualities."

"Does not every man?"

"Dukes attempt to have as few as possible," he said, holding her gaze. "Vice is weakness, and I cannot afford weakness."

His weakness was not vice—or at least not as far as the common man understood it. She had seen no inclination to gamble or drink or womanize, though to that last point, she had little enough information one way or the other.

"Is that why you keep your distance from me?"

The moment the words were out, she regretted them, wishing she could bring them back into her mouth and swallow them whole.

His brow arched. "What are you suggesting? That if we were closer, you would become my weakness?"

When he said it like that, it sounded egocentric.

"You do not seem to allow yourself to become emotionally attached," she said. "To almost anything—at least, anything made of flesh and blood."

His nostrils flared. "Wrong."

"Am I? Aside from those you have grown up with, who have known you as a boy, tell me who you care for?"

His lips thinned, and she knew she had gone too far.

"Thank you for your concern, but I find it is misplaced."

Evangeline closed her mouth around the desire to tell him that rather than concern, it was a longing—both to see behind the walls he had erected between them and to be one of the few people he actually cared about.

* * *

They reached the castle with barely enough time to change before dinner. Evangeline and Hugh went upstairs to dress, and she sat before the mirror, staring at her reflection. Her mission to seduce him had gone well, but she needed to try harder.

Yes, he wanted her. But evidently, that was not enough for him to give in to his desires. Not fully. She needed to go a step further, and she wasn't entirely sure what that was.

"I'll be attending a ball next week," she said to Susan as her maid remade her hair. "Did you know about it?"

"Mrs. MacDonald told me, Your Grace."

"I think that might be my moment to prove to him beyond all reasonable doubt that I am the wife he always should have wanted," Evangeline said, rolling her lips together to encourage some color into them. "Even more so than the fair."

"Did that go well?"

"I think so. He was being his usual self as the duke, but I think he was impressed by all I've learned, and I certainly had fun."

In fact, she'd had fun in a way she had previously not anticipated she could with a man like that.

Until, of course, she had accused him of being distant with her because he was afraid she would become a weakness.

"There," Susan said. "You're ready for dinner."

"Thank you."

Evangeline rose and descended the stairs.

Once in the main body of the house, she checked an old grandfather clock against the wall and veered away from the dining room.

Perhaps this might be her chance to find out what was in the west wing once and for all.

No one was around as she turned the handle and stepped into the corridor. Just as she had noticed on her first day, there was nothing different or out of place about this section of the castle. The corridor opened into a small drawing room, cozily decorated, with a staircase that led into the body of the tower. If it was anything like the east tower, where she slept, there would be sitting and dressing rooms all the way to the top, where there would be a bedchamber.

But for whom?

At the sound of voices behind, she darted into a very small closet and almost closed the door. From the sounds of it, Hugh and another man were passing by the west wing.

"…Unsurprised," Hugh was saying. "If I were him, I'd have run further."

Evangeline craned to hear more, but the two men passed by the west wing without entering into it. She exited the closet and with one last glance around, she made her decision: to go after Hugh and this strange man rather than investigate what else was in the west wing.

Because she was now certain, there was something there.

The two men were out of sight by the time she silently exited the west wing and went in search of them. Finally, she came across them gathered outside the dining room.

"I think it won't be long before—" the other man was saying, and now she recognized him as the man who had been in Hugh's study the day he had ravished her in the library.

Mr. Sloane , she remembered.

Hugh held up a hand, and both men turned to her. She curtsied.

"I wasn't aware we were entertaining," she said, directing a polite smile toward Mr. Sloane. "Are you joining us for dinner, sir?"

The man grinned, revealing a charming smile despite his rougher appearance. As though he was one of Hugh's tenants, even though the duke treated him as one of his dearest companions.

"Well, aye," he said, "I might just, if you'll have me. What manners, Hugh."

Hugh rolled his eyes. "If I'd wanted you to stay, I'd have invited you to stay myself."

Mr. Sloane jerked his thumb at Hugh. "We've known each other long enough that we no longer stand on ceremony."

So, this was another longstanding friend—long enough that they very evidently cared for one another.

"Duncan," Hugh said, his tone changing very slightly. "What is the likelihood that he will capitulate?"

"Almost certain," Duncan said cheerfully. "Once he's had done with his temper tantrum, of course."

"About whom are we talking?" Evangeline asked.

Hugh blinked and returned his gaze to her. "Nothing that needs to concern you."

"Capitulate?" she repeated, reluctantly accepting his arm as he led her into dinner. "Are you putting pressure on someone?"

"You've got a muckle feisty one there," she heard Duncan say from behind her, and she resolved to ask Hugh later what ‘muckle' meant.

"Evangeline," Hugh said, looking down at her with eyes that seemed more gray than blue. "If I had intended to tell you, I would have done so by now."

"Not to worry," Duncan called from behind them. "He's always this grouchy before he's had dinner."

Evangeline smiled a little. "Can you tell me?" she asked over her shoulder. If only she'd kept hidden and allowed them to speak in perceived privacy a little longer. "I dislike secrets."

"Well, this ain't the place for that," Duncan said. "Secrets are packed into these walls. Isn't that right, Hugh?"

"If you are incapable of holding your tongue, I'll pack you into a wall." Hugh's voice was stern, the kind of implacable tone she associated with instant order.

But when she looked at Duncan again, she found he was grinning.

"If I'd paid attention to your threats, I'd be half dead by now," he said, taking a seat after they did. "What you need is a good drink to loosen you up."

Hugh glanced significantly at his wife. "Can you be a little less crude?"

"My apologies, Your Grace." He gave an exaggerated bow at the table, but although the gesture was done in jest, Evangeline didn't feel as though he was mocking her. "I had no intention of offending you."

Evangeline giggled behind her hand. "Not at all. I'm not offended so easily."

"No? I thought you were from London."

"So I was, but I hope that doesn't make me a prude," Evangeline said. "I can enjoy a joke as well as the next person."

"You've got a right one here," Duncan said, grinning across at Hugh.

"Yes," Hugh said. "Thank you for your astute observation."

Evangeline wrinkled her nose at them both. "What secrets are there in this place?"

"Every old house has secrets." Duncan took a sip of his soup and looked at her significantly. "And ghosts."

"For the love of all that's holy," Hugh muttered.

"I don't believe in ghosts," Evangeline said.

"Well, you should. This place is rampant with them. Bound to happen, given how many people have died here over the generations."

"Would you mind not discussing death at the dinner table?" Hugh asked, but there was a weariness to his tone, as though he knew he wouldn't be listened to.

Evangeline briefly forgot her questions as she leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. "Tell me."

Duncan grinned. "With pleasure."