Chapter Fifteen

Alex woke from dreams filled with loss, though the details faded before he'd even opened his eyes. He rolled over in the dark and knew something was wrong.

Evie. Where was Evie? Her side of the bed was cold.

His first thought was that she had left him. That she didn't trust him to keep her safe and so she'd struck out on her own. He sat up, expecting an empty room. Someone was standing by the window. A dark figure in top hat and tails. In that moment, confronted with an unknown intruder and with no way of knowing where Evie was or if she was well, he was truly afraid.

Something about the figure struck him as odd. The coat hung far too low.

His racing heart began to slow as he understood what he was seeing; Evie stood in quarter-profile, gazing out into the night. A whimsical figure. What he'd taken for a gentleman's tailcoat was actually his own discarded evening coat. The top hat was his too, one of several he kept in the adjoining dressing room. She'd been restless while he slept. As always, he wondered what she was thinking. Still fascinated, even though he'd finally had her. Somehow he'd known it would be so.

Being with Evie had been different from all his other sexual encounters. He hadn't felt his usual constraint, had asked for things he hadn't even known he'd wanted, done things he couldn't quite believe. In his mind's eye, he could still see how they'd looked in the mirror. It had been the most exciting encounter of his life by far, yet he wanted more. Not simply to bed her again, though he wanted that too, but more . Somehow, the woman standing by the window was as distant as ever.

If Evangeline Jones had disappeared last night, Evie had still been playacting. That had been Sally Harper pinned beneath him and, much as he'd enjoyed the fulfillment of that particular fantasy, it was only a fantasy. People pretended in bed, he knew that. But last night, Alex hadn't, and he wanted to feel the bond between them in bed as well as out of it. He wanted to know her true name.

The air was cold on his naked skin as he rose. She must have heard him moving, but she didn't turn. He paused when he was about a foot from her, taking in the incongruous sight of her wearing his things. The top hat in particular he found adorable, but it was in his way. Without a word, he removed it and set it atop the mirror.

She stiffened as he placed his hands on her shoulders but all he did was ease her back against his chest. Rigid as she was, he half expected her to pull away, so it was an unforeseen pleasure when she relaxed against him.

"Cold?" he asked, his lips brushing her cheek as he spoke.

She nodded.

He'd always known what to say with previous lovers in the aftermath of lovemaking, not because he'd felt any affinity with them but because he hadn't cared. Like any type of social discourse, there was an etiquette that kept things civilized and prevented things from becoming sentimental. None of those polite nothings would suffice here when his feelings transcended sentiment. And when last night had broken all his rules.

He'd been crude with Evie, even rough at times, behavior she'd certainly enjoyed, but what if she was hurt by it now in retrospect? He wanted to ask her, but though he'd found the acts themselves occurred naturally at the time, he found them impossible to speak of now. Defeated by his own inconsistency, he rested his chin on top of her head and joined her in staring into the dark.

The horizon began to take on the grayish tint of earliest dawn. Other than that, there wasn't much to see. One didn't stargaze in London. The air wasn't clear enough for that. He was glad he was taking her to Yorkshire. He found the city suffocating if he stayed too long.

They remained that way, each lost in their separate thoughts, for nearly half an hour. They might have stayed there until morning if he hadn't grown cold and slid his arms around her waist for warmth. She turned in the circle of his arms and looked up at him with her fathomless brown eyes, and he realized he hadn't kissed her last night. Not since the Blue Room.

She had the most extraordinary mouth. Though her

lips were thin and showed displeasure more readily than anything, whenever she smiled, her entire being seemed transformed. He'd seen it only once or twice and each instance felt like a gift.

He wanted a kiss, nothing more, so he touched his lips to hers almost chastely. Her mouth was soft, feather-light on his. Such a sweet kiss would have been impossible last night with so much turmoil in the air. When she didn't pull away, he kissed her again, tasting her this time. Her arms slid around his shoulders, then up until her fingers tangled in his hair. Something sparked between them, then caught light.

He wasn't surprised when she broke the kiss and stepped back. He couldn't help his body's reaction and it hadn't occurred to him to conceal it. Her gaze shot unerringly to his erection and her eyes widened. Last night he'd stayed behind her and she had seen more of her own body than his, so now he stayed where he was and let her look. Even half an hour ago, he couldn't have imagined he would stand this way, allowing her response to fire his. She seemed almost shocked by the sight of his cockstand.

Her confidence last night, her insistence that he refrain from being gentle, had made him think his original assessment of her past experience accurate after all, but now he wondered. He might have asked her but he sensed she wouldn't appreciate the question. Perhaps, when all was said and done, it was none of his business. If she wished to confide in him, she would. The same was true of her real name.

More pertinent was the glazed look in her eyes. The rapid rise and fall of her bosom, its shadowy curves partially visible beneath the coat. His lips curled with satisfaction. "Again?"

"Yes," she said. No orders this morning. She seemed different. Tentative.

He gathered her into his arms and carried her back to the bed. The coat fell from her shoulders as they crossed the room, so she was entirely nude when he settled on the bed with her on his lap. When she straddled him, her wet cunt nudged his cock until he groaned. Unable to resist the pert breasts mere inches from his face, he leaned forward and tasted one nipple. She moaned and arched her back, thrusting her chest at him—an invitation he was eager to accept. He sucked, the little bud hard on his tongue, until she cried out. Her hands fluttered at his shoulders as he transferred his ministrations to the other nipple, biting and nibbling.

"Touch me," he urged. He lifted her slightly, until his cock sprang up between them. Slowly she reached for him. The timid glide of her hand was torture but then she squeezed. "Yes," he groaned. "Like that. Yes."

She bent her head, intent on her task, as she stroked him the way he liked, the way he'd shown her that day in the carriage. Firm but gentle, then tighter and faster until he almost spent in her hands.

He pulled away. "Tell me what you want."

She seemed surprised. "I don't…"

"You had no difficulty once. Tell me how to please you."

When she didn't speak, he tilted her head back and trailed kisses across her neck and shoulder. "Do you like that?"

"I… Yes."

"I want to be inside you. Do you want that?"

In answer, she rose on her knees and watched as he positioned himself at her entrance.

"Is this what you want?" he asked again.

Their eyes met and held as she sank down onto him.

"Slow," he said when she winced. "Let yourself adjust."

He caught a fleeting glimpse of her elusive smile before she buried her face in his chest. As she breathed slowly in and out, he stroked her back, soothing and cajoling. A moment of calm before the storm. He could have stayed there with her wrapped in his arms. This moment. This closeness. This was what he had missed last night.

He could have stayed like that forever but her hips rocked.

"Easy," he whispered. "Take your time, angel."

She raised her head and smiled again, the sweetest smile he'd ever seen, though the playful tilt at one corner boded ill for his restraint. She rocked again, drawing a groan from somewhere deep in his chest. Then again and again.

She reached past him, grasping the headboard with both hands. The slight change in position embedded him still deeper. Her small but perfect tits hung temptingly, just within reach. He palmed them both, kneading and pinching.

"Oh, please, Alex."

He couldn't hold still any longer. He bucked against her in clumsy counterpoint. "Evie, I can't…"

"Fuck me," she said. "Please, please, please fuck me."

He clutched a great handful of her hair, twisting and pulling it aside. She cried out but not in pain. "You like that," he said, half in wonder. He pulled harder, controlling her movements as if her hair were a chain, kissing her neck as she rose and fell above him. As he lost control completely, she stiffened against him. Their mutual climax left him stunned and laughing. The laughter was definitely another first.

He sobered quickly. Evie was drenched in sweat and shivering like someone in shock.

"All right?"

She nodded, her eyes swimming with tears. His heart was in his mouth when, thank God, she began to laugh. "I'm going to need some time to recover."

The sound of her laughter loosened something in him. "My God, Evie, I thought I'd broken you." He slid down into the bed with her still cradled against his chest. By the time he'd finished pulling the covers up, she was already asleep.

∞∞∞

Evie woke to a grayish dawn and feather-light kisses against her ribs.

She kept her eyes closed and luxuriated in the warmth of his mouth and the faint tickle of his beard. He could be so gentle, this forbidding man with the relentless mind. He'd bedded her with single-minded focus. The experience was exactly what the girls at Rose's had described, and at the same time, nothing like it.

Last night's passion had been sweaty, messy, obscene, and even rough at times. She hadn't minded, had enjoyed every moment. Then, in the early hours of the morning, he'd overturned everything when he'd come to her at the window, eased her back against his chest and simply held her. Consideration like that usually came before a man had a woman, not afterward, or so she'd been led to expect. A man courted a woman with kindness because how else was he to get what he wanted? Once he'd had her, what was the point? She'd been feeling rather maudlin that the seduction was now over when he'd taken her into his arms.

They'd stood there a long time before the second bedding and that had been as different from the first as day from night. Whether he'd been tired or whether he experienced the same languorous contentment she'd been feeling, he'd taken such care with her. She hadn't expected that of him and certainly hadn't known herself capable of reciprocating. He'd gazed into her eyes as he moved inside her. Why was that so devastating?

"We need to get up," he murmured now, his breath hot on her skin. He kissed her again and again, his tongue tracing little circles. She groaned and tried to sit up, but he pressed her hips into the mattress. "Don't take me so literally."

"I'll fall asleep," she warned.

"To think I took you for an early riser."

"Well, perhaps if I'd been permitted to sleep for more than a few hours…"

"You didn't complain at the time."

"That's funny." In fact, she couldn't hold back a smile. "You're a funny duke."

"It's what I'm known for."

She gave herself up to the sensation of his lips and hands. It would be so easy to stay here with him. Even this awful bed had taken on a friendly aspect now they'd spent the night curled up in it together.

You could stay. Be his mistress. No one need ever know .

Treacherous little voice.

Yes, she could stay, allow Alex to cage her up somewhere Captain couldn't hurt her. They didn't need the approval of church and state. If he tired of her, that was no worse than tearing herself away now would be.

But what about his heiress? He needed to marry if he wanted to keep the dukedom intact. What was she to do then? Share him? Steal his time and affection from his wife, and one day, his children? The thought made her ill.

Yet she didn't want anyone else to have him. He was hers. Or she was his. The latter was perhaps the problem. Giving yourself to someone, really truly letting yourself belong to another, was always a foolhardy act, no matter how well-intentioned both parties might be.

"Where did you go?" He watched her face with genuine concern.

She shrugged. "You're right. We need to rise." After all, she needed to say her goodbyes.

∞∞∞

Poor Mags looked much the same, if better cared for. The bedding had been changed and her hair was neat. She even managed a smile when she woke and saw Evie sitting by the bed, though the glad look quickly faded into one of concern.

"Are you all right?" was the first thing she said.

"I think I'm supposed to ask you that," Evie said, trying for a smile of her own.

She must have failed abysmally because Mags frowned. "Tell me."

"Talking wears Miss Carmichael out," Mrs. Radcliffe, the nurse, had cautioned before she'd left to fetch more water from the pump. Evie needed to come to the point and not make poor Mags fish for information.

She took her friend's hand and squeezed it gently. "I've had a bit of a falling out with Captain," she said with deliberate understatement. "I need to leave."

Mags seemed to understand instinctively that Evie didn't mean for a short while. Her eyes filled with tears but she didn't seem shocked or even surprised. "Where will you go?"

"France at first because it's close, but I won't linger long. After that, wherever I can find a home, I suppose. Captain is very angry. He'll say I owe him money on his investment, probably come here looking for me. I don't know when or if I'll be coming back or even if I'll be able to write."

"Is it…" Mags swallowed painfully. "Is it something to do with the duke?"

"It's complicated." In a way, everything came back to Alex. If it wasn't for Captain's obsession, he'd never have rescued Evie from Miss Rose's. She'd be a completely different person now. Their destinies had been entwined long before they'd ever met. "I'm worried about Jack. He worships Captain and sooner or later…" Sooner or later he would be hurt. Perhaps badly. "Watch out for him. If he comes to you, help him if you can."

"You don't need to ask. I'll find him something at the theater. He can carry scenery or run errands."

"You won't be there for long. Not if you marry Mr. Chase."

Mags smiled again, and for a moment, she looked almost like her old self. "I'm not going to marry him. His father paid me a visit. Offered to buy me off."

Evie experienced a moment's outrage on her friend's behalf before relief flooded in. This was good news. The best news she'd heard in a long time. "I hope you got a good price."

"I got the best price." Mags struggled into a sitting position. "Evie, he bought me a share of the Dovecote. I'm a partner now."

"Oh!" Evie threw her arms around Mags. "Oh, Mags, I'm so happy for you." This would mean financial security and her pick of roles.

"You must thank the duke for me."

Evie stilled. "Harcastle? What does he have to do with this?"

Mags shrugged. "You'll have to ask him that."

It was time to say goodbye but tears built in Evie's chest until she couldn't speak. She'd never had to leave someone she cared about before and it was harder than she'd imagined.

Mags seemed to understand. "Love you," she whispered.

Evie kissed her hand. "You too."

∞∞∞

By the time Evie descended the stairs, she'd managed to subdue any sign of threatening tears. She took several deep breaths before opening the door onto the street where Alex waited in his carriage.

"All right?" He said the words carelessly, without even looking at her, but she knew him well enough now to detect the compassion beneath the nonchalance. She loved that he wasn't always demonstrative in his sympathy. He never swamped her with unwanted sentiment, always allowing her to be herself even if that self was contained to the point of coldness.

"Of course," she said, equally careless.

They sat in silence for several minutes as the carriage rumbled through Soho. The traffic was dreadful as always and it would only get worse. Mist, damp and oppressive, hung in the air, the beginnings of what promised to be a truly dreadful fog.

"Harcastle?"

His brows rose and when he said, "Yes, Miss Jones," she knew he was amused by her sudden return to formality.

"It would seem Mr. Chase's father has bought Mags off with half a theat. Are you in any way responsible for her sudden good fortune?"

He sighed. "All I did was commiserate with him about his son's foolishness and suggest that Miss Carmichael, as a woman of sense, might be persuaded to accept an interest in the theater in lieu of a betrothal ring."

"Is that all? Well, then I will only thank you the little you deserve for saving a woman from an unwanted marriage and changing her life immeasurably for the better. "

He frowned, his irritation plain to see. "I do indeed deserve all the accolades for saving Miss Carmichael from a life of ease as a rich fool's wife." He looked directly at her for the first time since she'd entered the carriage. "I admit they'd have been social pariahs, but don't you think she might have grown fond of him?"

"Perhaps." It was an oddly romantic notion coming from Alex, and Evie felt a pang at the thought that he might grow fond of his heiress. She wanted that for him, or at least her better self did. "But Mags isn't… She doesn't actually like men. Not in a romantic way."

He took several moments to process this. "Do you mean that she prefers women?"

She didn't answer unless her amused stare counted.

"But didn't you and she…share a bed?"

"Yes." She couldn't decipher his expression. "I said she prefers women, Harcastle. That doesn't mean she's indiscriminate. I assure you, she behaved like a perfect lady the entire time. We both did. We're more like sisters, really."

His face didn't change but somehow she knew she'd shocked him.

"What does that look mean?" she asked, unable to keep the laughter out of her voice. "Are you relieved or disappointed to hear that I did not engage in a torrid affair with another woman?"

"I'm not sure," he said. "I'm striving not to have an emotion either way."

That sounded about right. "Is that something you do often? Strive not to have feelings, I mean." Although perhaps that was a bit rich coming from her.

Before he could answer, she caught sight of something through the window. A streak of red and gray. "Stop the carriage!" she shrieked.

The carriage shuddered to a halt and she slipped out before Alex could stop her. She hurried forward, pushing past pedestrians until she got to the corner where she'd seen that familiar flash. Yes, there he was, a little way down the street.

"Jack!"

He turned, caught sight of her, and glanced behind him as if he might run. Then he lifted his chin and waited for her approach.

"Jack, I'm sorry about last night," she said when she reached him.

He regarded her warily. "Why'd you do it, Evie? Why turn against Captain?"

The words affected her like a slap to the face. No, it was less violent than that. More permanent. His obvious hurt and disappointment settled on her shoulders like a heavy load, though she'd expected this from him. His devotion to Captain ran too deep.

"He turned against me first." That sounded petty but it also happened to be true.

He shook his head, a denial of her words and of her. "Stay away from me."

"I will, Jack. I don't have a choice in the matter. I'm leaving."

"What? When?" He couldn't hide his distress, despite the rigid set of his jaw. Being forced to choose like this must hurt him a great deal, and she tried to focus on that and not the pain she felt at losing him to Captain.

"Today. Now , really. I only wanted to say goodbye."

"Well, now you've said it."

His eyes sparkled with tears she knew he would never allow to fall. So like her. She wished she were the sort of woman who could throw her arms around him and overwhelm him with warmth. He might not like it but at least then he'd have the memory of her affection.

"Well." Straightening his spine, he turned away. "Bye then, Evie."

"If you ever need help," she called after him, "go to Mags at the Dovecote. She'll help you. Promise me, Jack!" But he didn't answer. He had nothing more to say to her.

She turned and saw Alex standing in the shadows. She didn't know how long he'd been there watching them, but it was too late to conceal her feelings. He didn't say anything. He didn't need to.

"Get me out of here," she said as she allowed him to pull her into the comfort of his arms.