Chapter 2

Chapter Two

L ord Bramwell's eyes bulged as he stared at Hugh. "Marry Evangeline ?"

"Yes, sir. If you would give your consent."

"My consent? My boy—but you must know that we…"

"I know of your financial situation," Hugh said smoothly.

It would be impossible for him not to be aware of the situation; the Bramwells were known across London for not having a feather to fly with. No doubt that had been the primary reason they had chosen Sandhurst to be their son-in-law.

"I have no need of a dowry—my fortune is substantial—and I would be perfectly happy to assist with any pressing debts."

"Your Grace." Bramwell cleared his throat. "This is unexpected indeed."

Hugh brushed an invisible speck of dirt from the sleeve of his jacket. "And yet, I trust, not unwelcome."

"No! No indeed, not at all, not unwelcome. Evangeline must marry, naturally."

As though she had been summoned, the girl herself appeared, still with that odd defiance about her.

"Papa," she said, not addressing Hugh although it was borderline rude of her not to do so. "Please may I speak with you?"

"Evangeline," Bramwell said, showing the most fatherly concern he had thus far bestowed upon her. "Excellent news. We are saved."

"If I may speak with you," she urged.

"The duke has offered to marry you."

"I can obtain a special license within the next few days," Hugh said. "The delay will not have to be long."

"A special license? Did you hear that, my dear?" Bramwell's earlier reticence had all but disappeared. "You will have a husband to boast of."

Evangeline turned her gaze on Hugh, and he was amused to see the irritation flare there, as though she had little enough interest in marrying him. And was that—could that be revulsion there, too?

How droll.

No matter: this was not designed as a love match for either of them.

"You do me great honor," she said flatly, "but I'm afraid I cannot accept." She turned back to her father. "Think, Papa. George has—he has deceived us all. Of course, we must be grateful to His Grace for bringing the deception to our attention, but how could you possibly imagine I would be ready to marry again so soon?"

"Don't worry, Your Grace," Bramwell said to her. "She'll come around. It's the shock, you know."

"It is not the shock." Evangeline raised her chin in a gesture Hugh was starting to believe would be a familiar sight. "I loved George, and I have no desire to marry another gentleman at present."

Bramwell lowered his voice. His wife, a faded lady dressed in the height of fashion, joined their group.

"Think a moment before you run off your tongue, girl," he hissed. "You would turn down an offer such as this? If you do not, you will be ruined. Word will spread that Sandhurst left you at the altar, and who will want to marry you then? His Grace has done us a great kindness by offering for you."

Her eyes flashed, and she looked as though she would argue, but at a glance around the church, she subsided. "I see you have given me no choice in the matter," she said tightly.

A younger girl ran up to them and wrapped her arms around Evangeline. "I am so sorry," she said, her voice catching on a sob.

Hugh decided this was his moment to leave, and he was not sorry for it.

"I should attend to my other appointments," he said, giving them a crisp bow. "Thank you for your consideration. I do hope any disappointment is of short duration."

As they fumbled for words, he strode away and went to reclaim his horse.

His duty was discharged: he had begun his revenge and ensured that Sandhurst could never marry the woman he loved.

Of course, the marriage itself was not a prospect he particularly relished, but he was of an age where a wife was desirable, and he may as well marry her as any other woman. Particularly as she came with the additional benefit of forwarding his revenge plan.

Soon he would be on his way north, a new wife in tow.

He could not wait to leave.

* * *

Evangeline kept silent as they returned home in the carriage they had hired for the wedding. Only her sister Clara seemed to have any inkling of the rage in her heart; her parents were utterly oblivious.

It was only when they walked into the drawing room and her father called for some champagne for a toast that Evangeline found her tongue.

"A celebration?" she demanded. "For successfully selling me to one of the most notorious men in England?"

Her father looked at her pitifully. "It's a far better match than Sandhurst, and what would you have preferred? That he didn't step up and offer for you?"

"You should have asked what Evangeline would have preferred before offering her to the duke," Clara said, pushing forward.

Evangeline wrapped a protective arm around her younger sister.

Usually, Clara was quiet and meek when it came to their parents. Like Evangeline, she knew what was expected of her—a good match—and she had the weight of her upcoming Season on her shoulders.

Her mother glared at Clara. "Hold your tongue if you know what's best for you, girl. This is the best scenario we could have hoped for. Our daughter married to a duke . Think of the invitations." She sank into a seat, fanning herself gently. "This may be what we need to turn our fortunes around."

"The best possible scenario," her father agreed, taking his place beside her. "And before you argue further, Evangeline, consider that if he had not proposed, the scandal would have the two of you as spinsters for the rest of your life. We would live in poverty."

And yet, she wanted to say, you have sold me to a duke without a second's thought .

Little was known about the stern, ruthless Duke of Eldermoor. He came from Northumberland, a county so far from London that she had never been there. In fact, she could not be certain he did not hark from the wilds of Scotland themselves; there had been a wildness to him that had made her think of heather-strewn moorlands, dark night skies and the scent of peat.

All things she had no knowledge of, of course, save from novels.

He did not strike her as a man who would give her the comfortable life she had always wanted.

"Has no one a thought for George?" she asked, her voice breaking.

George had been her friend when she was a girl, and although she had no romantic love for him, he had been an important part of her life.

She could hardly believe he would do something so wicked as leave his wife when she was with child to court her.

She had been resigned to marrying him and had thought they would deal tolerably. For Clara, whose debut would be on them next Season, she had thought she could cope with the marriage.

The Duke of Eldermoor was a different matter altogether. She knew nothing of his life in the north, but no doubt he lived in a horrid castle, and she would never be able to see Clara again.

"Sandhurst should never have lied to us," her father said, his tone final. "The fact that he did brought us to the brink of ruin."

No, your poor grasp of finances did that .

She bit her tongue, knowing she couldn't say it without being punished.

"We might be able to procure Almack's vouchers next year," her mother was saying, George—and Evangeline—forgotten. "And just think of the invitations. Our daughter a duchess—our names will mean something again. This is better than I ever could have hoped for."

Clara burst into tears and broke free from Evangeline's arms, running from the room.

"See to your sister," her father said indifferently. "We can't have outbursts of emotion—it borders on hysterical. Women should know better than to give into their baser instincts."

"And this celebration of the end of my life as I know it is far superior?" Evangeline wanted to demand. "You think that you are in a far greater position?"

But if she said that, she would only result in harming herself and her sister more. Her parents had never given much thought to their futures, save for the ways she and Clara could provide for their future and rescue their reputation.

Sometimes Evangeline wondered why her parents had bothered with children unless it was only to further their status by advantageous marriages.

Gritting her teeth, she left the room and followed Clara upstairs, finding her composure by the time she discovered her sister face-down on her bed, sobbing into a pillow.

"Now then," she said, shutting the door behind them both. "This is too much, you know, dearest."

Clara turned a tear-stained face up to hers. "How can you be so calm?"

Inside, Evangeline wasn't. She was howling at the sky, tearing at her hair, and wishing the world was not so unjust and cruel. George's betrayal still stung, and she had been sold like cattle to the man with the deepest pockets.

But Clara could never know any of this.

"Why, it's simple enough when you consider that Mama and Papa are right," she said, sitting on the edge of the bed and pushing all her tumultuous emotions aside. "We would have been ruined if the duke hadn't offered for me. The fact he has is a great relief."

"Truly?"

Evangeline smiled and brushed a damp curl back from her sister's face. Three years her junior at seventeen, Clara still had an idealized view of the world. Of course, she did—she'd never been exposed to the world's cruelties.

Her father's poor investment had come a mere few months before Evangeline's debut, and all the grand parties they had planned had been dismissed. Her Season had been a flop, everyone knowing of her family's financial difficulties, and if she didn't marry soon, she risked Clara's debut being equally disastrous.

Her chance to marry for love had passed, but Clara's hadn't. And with her blonde curls and cherubic blue eyes, she was just the type that was in favor. Gentlemen would flock to her.

So long as Evangeline married.

"I never loved George, you know," she said now. "I was fond of him, of course, and I'm deeply sad that he seems to have played this girl foul, but I'm not missing out on some great love by not marrying him."

"You shouldn't have to marry for anything other than love!"

Evangeline gave a rueful smile. "Perhaps not in an ideal world, but you know I would rather you had the chance to marry for love than me. The role of the older sister is always to provide for the younger ones. You know that as well as I, dearest."

"I wish I had been born the eldest," Clara said with a pout.

"And if you had, I know you would have done this for me too. So really, dearest, there's no point thinking of it. I will marry him whether the thought pleases you or not, and so we may as well make the best of it."

Clara sighed and flopped back on the bed. "Do you suppose it will happen soon?"

"I expect so," Evangeline said. "After all, he said he would get a special license. How long can that take?"