Chapter Twenty-Two

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

The only thing that could fix a shattered heart was time. One simply had to prepare for weeks and months of agony while one's heart mended at its own interminable pace. Thank God their season was over. Evangeline had spent the last week in her bedchamber, listening to the sounds of the servants packing up the residence in preparation for their return to Chichester, unable to drag herself out of her melancholy. Heartbreak was why love wasn't worth the cost.

It left a person numb. Hollow. Wrecked.

Evangeline, please. Wait. I fell in love with you.

Her heart flinched at the memory. He didn't love her.

No man who loved a woman would hurt her so.

Only now did Evangeline understand why her father had broken to pieces after her mother had left. She'd always wondered how he could give up one of his daughters, and now she knew. It wasn't because he'd wanted to. It was because he'd had to. At sixteen, she had been old enough to take care of herself, but Viola had been on the cusp of womanhood and in need of an effective parent. Something her father could not be in his grief. In those early days, he hadn't even been able to care for himself. It was how she felt now.

Absent of care. Of feeling. Of anything.

It had taken immense willpower just to drag herself out of bed to the window seat, where for the first time in days, she stared out at an overcast sky. Even the weather reflected her mood of eternal doom and gloom. Evangeline had thought that she could survive anything after Huntington. Lady Ghastly? What a laugh in comparison.

Because this had been soul destroying. The gossip had flown faster than a murder of crows, and now the entire ton knew that someone had to be paid to want her. He'd lied to her from the start.

Oh, she hated him!

"Effie, are you awake?" a soft voice called, drawing her attention from where she sat curled up on the window bench in her bedchamber. Lucky gave a happy yelp, recognizing the owner of the voice. Evangeline hadn't left her room in days, not even to walk Lucky, who had remained at her side like the faithful friend she was. Thankfully, the servants made sure she was taken outside a few times during the day.

Evangeline debated not answering, but Viola was not the most patient of people, nor would she take the obvious hint that Evangeline wanted to be alone. "Yes, I'm up."

The door pushed open and her sister's head appeared. "Goodness, Effie, you look frightful."

A puff of laughter passed through her cracked lips. "Thank you."

"I'm not jesting. You look like you've been trampled by a runaway horse, left for dead on the side of the road, and then pecked within an inch of your life by vultures." Her sister wrinkled her nose. "And you smell like sweaty dog."

"That bad?" Her earlier laugh turned into a tragic snort.

Despite the stench—which, in her pathetic defense, was probably more a stinky Lucky who was in desperate need of a bath—Viola joined her where she sat and took hold of her hand. "You need to pull yourself together, Effie. No man is worth letting yourself fall to bits. You of all people should know that. You taught me that."

Hurt loomed. "He made a fool of me, Viola. In front of everyone. It was worse than a silly name invented by an even sillier fop. That didn't hurt me. Vale did."

Viola squeezed Evangeline's hand comfortingly. "If it makes you feel any better, he's been shunned by half the ton. Vesper, Briar, Nève, and Laila have made it clear that they will cut anyone who supports him."

It did make her feel better. Marginally. But then it was followed by a rush of guilt. "He won't find a wife, if he has no one to choose from."

"Who'd want to marry that overgrown cod's head?" Viola said loyally.

Evangeline felt her wounded heart quake in her chest. They'd never discussed marriage, but she'd trusted him with her body… with her heart. Until she'd learned she had been the butt of some stupid, inconsequential agreement, and that he'd meant none of it at all. It cheapened what they'd shared, made everything seem utterly meaningless.

"Let's get you cleaned up," her sister said brightly. "You have guests."

Evangeline blinked. "Who?"

"Your friends are downstairs. Even Nève rushed back from Paris. They have refused to leave, and Papa has sent me to retrieve you."

Realizing that she could not put them off, Evangeline allowed Viola to usher her into the bathing chamber, where she washed. Admittedly, afterward, she felt better. Her hair was still damp, so she left it loose, knowing her friends would not care, and made her way downstairs. In the foyer, she was stopped by her father, clearly in the middle of a frantic escape from her visitors. He pulled her into an unexpected embrace.

"How are you?" he asked.

"Wretched. Trusting someone who turned out to be a liar is the worst kind of shock." She let out a sigh. "But I suppose you know all about that, Papa. How did you survive after what Mama did, after she left? How did you…" Put together your smashed heart.

"One foot in front of the other and one day at a time. It will pass, dear girl," he said softly. "Love isn't always easy."

She swallowed a sob. "It wasn't love, Papa. Love shouldn't feel like this."

The earl patted her back, his eyes kindly and filled with so much compassion that her eyes stung. "If it wasn't, then it wouldn't hurt so much, but you will get through it, my resilient daughter, one day at a time. There are people who need you. I need you, Viola needs you. That gaggle of geese waiting down there, too." She let out a snicker at his harrowed expression. "And your animals need you." He released a breath. "I know this is probably not the right time, but I have decided you may use your dowry for whatever you want. Expand your shelter, do as you see fit."

Evangeline sniffed in a state of shock. "Truly?"

"Truly."

She flung her arms around him, tears forming anew. "Oh, Papa! You are one of a kind, I swear."

He smiled and wiped the wetness from her cheek. "Yes, well. Don't tell anyone, but I do believe that most women can do anything they put their minds to, even better, ahem, I daresay than the men. Down with the patriarchy!"

Evangeline giggled. "You are the patriarchy."

"We all play our parts, dear."

A screech from the nearest salon had his eyes widening as he retreated toward the safety of his study to avoid being trampled by a herd of women. Evangeline turned as her friends swarmed her, their arms holding her close. She'd never felt so treasured. They walked, arms interlinked, back into the morning salon, and sat.

"So, how shall we do it?" Laila asked with a hard look.

Evangeline blinked. "Do what?"

"Do away with a duke," Briar answered with vicious glee. "I've heard arsenic is quiet and deadly. That's how Madeleine Smith allegedly did it even though she wasn't found guilty. Remember that scandalous murder trial nearly a decade ago? He wouldn't feel a thing."

"No one is murdering anyone," Evangeline said. "And how do you even know of these obscure murders?"

"I like to be prepared," Briar said with an evil wiggle of her brows.

Vesper grinned, showing all her teeth. "Moreover, it would be so fun."

"Prison would not be."

Nève pounded her fist. "Worth it!"

"Hellfire Kitties for life!" Laila yelled.

Vesper let out a victorious shout. "Indeed! I knew you'd come around to the name." Grinning, she stuck her hand out to Nève. "Pay up, you owe me five quid."

Evangeline nearly laughed out loud at her friends' antics and their utter devotion.

"We could kidnap him," Briar offered gamely. "Rough him up a little. Some of those ladies in Seven Dials who can lift me with one finger would be up for the task."

It would take at least half a dozen women to handle a man of Vale's size, even if the idea held any appeal at all. The notion of making him suffer brought some gratification, but it wasn't wholly his fault. Evangeline was also to blame. She had approached him with her proposal, after all, and she had to be accountable for that. He might have lied by omission, which was dreadful and even unforgivable, but he hadn't forced her hand.

"I adore you all for being on my side, but no death or abduction or putting yourselves in danger for my sake."

"How are you feeling?" Laila asked softly.

Evangeline swallowed, looking at her friends in turn. "I've been better, I'll admit. It's not every day you find out that someone has been spending time with you because they've been paid by a scoundrel to do so."

Vesper bit her lip. "I feel awful for my part in what happened at the ball. I forced you to speak to him."

"It's not your fault. The truth would have come out sooner or later."

Her friend frowned. "What happened exactly between you and Vale? I wasn't wrong in assuming there was something between you two, was I? The way he looked at you, well, it's the way Greydon looks at me. Like you're everything in his whole universe."

"I'm sure you were mistaken," Evangeline whispered. "Any affection you may have thought he had for me, it was fake. We were simply acquaintances."

But even as she said the words, Evangeline knew it wasn't true. They'd been more than acquaintances. She had no reason—and no desire—to keep the secret of her arrangement with Vale from her friends any longer. She took a deep breath, then blurted out the story in its sordid entirety. When she was finished, the four of them wore equally fascinated expressions on their faces. There was not one hint of judgment, however, not from her friends.

"Wait." Briar broke the hushed silence. "How was the bed sport?" Nève thumped a cushion onto her head, and Briar threw up her hands with feigned innocence. "What? It's not as though we're all not thinking it. Effie doing the blanket hornpipe? Our Effie?"

Evangeline snorted. "Bloody hell, I'm hardly some sort of ice maiden prude."

"You loathe all gentlemen," Briar said and then wrinkled her nose. " Loathed , obviously past tense now, since you let the Dastardly Duke into your drawers. Didn't you tell Vesper you kicked him out of your animal shelter?" She brightened. "Oh, wait. Was it hot poking with your enemy? Like he let you ride the rantipole all night while trading insults?"

"Something is wrong with you, Briar," Laila pronounced though her cheeks were on fire at the crude mention of the sexual position.

"It was by mutual agreement, as I explained," Evangeline said, blushing hard at the recollection of said act, though she left out the part about Vale being a virgin, too. That was his private business. "And everything about it was perfect… until it ended because agreements of this nature have to end or someone gets hurt. And then I found out that Vale had been paid to get me to London for six weeks by Huntington of all people, so it was a windfall for him at my expense."

She lifted her shoulders, everything aching inside. "He found a way to have his cake and eat it. Screw the spinster, pay off his debts." Evangeline put her head in her hands and peered up at her friends. Their expressions were full of pity. "Don't look at me like that. I know what I'm responsible for here, but I trusted him, and he lied by omission. And, dear God, I almost believed he cared for me and agreed to let him court me properly. How stupid am I?"

"You're not stupid," Nève said loyally.

Briar nodded. "You have a soft heart, that's all."

Vesper frowned and cleared her throat. "Not that I want to pour oil on fire here, and I am on your side, but what did you think your arrangement was going to be? You both used each other for… er… carnal enjoyment, and you got what you wanted."

"He was paid to keep me in London, Vesper! By Huntington, the man I despise most in the world. There's no excuse for that. Vale lied to me! He let me believe…" She trailed off, gasping for breath.

"Believe what ?" Nève asked, a compassionate look on her face.

"That I was more than the awkward, opinionated, odd-looking, eccentric spinster everyone knew me to be. That I was worthy of being desired. That I wasn't unwanted." She pushed the heels of her palms into her eyes. "That I was more ."

"You are more!" Laila said.

"You're not awkward or odd-looking," Briar put in. "You're unique, and beautiful, and we love you as you are."

"I know you think that." She sniffed. "But no one else ever has, and it was all a despicable lie at my expense. Poor Lady Ghastly… can't even get the attention of a gentleman without his being compensated for his time. What a bloody joke!"

Evangeline covered her face with her hands.

Gently, Vesper drew Evangeline's palms down, away from her face. "What if it wasn't the joke you think it was?" When the others scoffed, Evangeline lifted her head in disbelief that her best friend would even consider defending him. "Lushing told me that Vale's brother owed Huntington two thousand pounds. Money Vale needed to repay."

"What does that have to do with Effie?" Briar demanded.

Vesper lifted a palm in Briar's direction, keeping her eyes on Evangeline. "When Vale inherited a rather destitute dukedom, he also inherited his brother's debt, which he has been paying off. But coupled with some misfortune at Vale Ridge Park, his finances worsened considerably. Lushing said that Huntington agreed to forgive the marker if Vale convinced you to come to town for the season." She expelled a breath. "I'm not excusing Vale. He did lie to you, and that was wrong, but perhaps you should give the duke a chance to explain before you decide that you are unworthy or undeserving of love and happiness, Effie."

"He does not love me," she blurted.

"But you love him, don't you?" her friend asked gently. "You don't owe him anything, but you owe it to yourself to know the whole truth, and that's something that you can only get from Vale." She smiled, a hand going to the barely there bump of her stomach. "Love is worth fighting for even when the odds are insurmountable."

"I don't know if I want to fight for it. I was happy alone. I could be happy again."

Vesper nodded. "That's true. But happiness isn't a stagnant target. It's always moving. Perhaps what you had before might not be enough, but only you will know."

Gage stared at the tumbler cradled between his palms in one of the private salons at Lethe. He hated the flavor of whisky—it tasted too much like failure—and yet it was the only thing that kept him from rushing off to Mayfair, his hat in his hand and begging Evangeline's forgiveness. Even though there was nothing he could say or do to change his actions.

Would he have changed his actions?

He was sorry he'd hurt her, but he could not regret taking Huntington's offer in order to square away Asher's debt and be able to support the tenants and staff. He had lied to Evangeline by withholding the truth, and he regretted that. Despite his oath, he had gambled… with the one precious thing that had meant anything to him.

Her esteem. Her affection. Her.

And he'd lost.

"Are you just going to sit here and mope?" Lushing demanded, taking the seat across from him. "I should cut you off."

Gage laughed humorlessly. "This is the same drink I started with hours ago."

"Cut you off from wasting my best whisky," the earl amended. "It's not meant to be nursed like a mother's teat, man."

"Oh dear God, I shall have to use the rest of this to scour my ears out and pretend I never heard that comparison from you," he replied. Lushing stared at him, face unusually somber as Gage regarded him over the rim. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

The earl let out a breath and crossed his booted ankle over his knee. "I know it's not important to you right at this moment, but we found the man."

"The man," he echoed in confusion.

"Huntington's man," Lushing said, making him sit up straighter in his seat. "The one you saw in the water during the regatta. He's confessed to foul play after some persuasion. Greydon is currently keeping an eye on him in my office, and he has agreed to be a witness. I haven't taken my seat in the Lords in years. If this requires proof from a peer, Greydon's a better backer than me."

Placing the glass down, Gage stood. "Take me to him."

Lushing nodded and led him up the stairs of Lethe to his office, where a man—a badly bruised man with one eye swollen shut—sat, his wrists restrained to the armrests of the chair. Greydon was propped against the desk. The duke sent them an apologetic look.

"He fought and injured two of my men. Refused to come quietly until we mentioned his association with one Lord Evan Huntington. Became as docile as a lamb then. Said he wasn't going down with a sinking ship."

Gage eyed the captive. Indeed, it was the same man with the sleek cap of blond hair he'd seen bobbing in the river that day, and in truth, the man seemed familiar to him… a face he'd seen somewhere in his memory. "Who are you?" he asked. "What is your name?"

"Horace Blunt, milord."

The pieces clicked. "You were Asher's groom." The man had the decency to flush, his cheeks reddening with shame even as he ducked his head. "He trusted you more than he ever trusted another, and he loved those horses, you know he did. He would have never ridden that pair in an intoxicated state." He took in a ragged breath. "What happened that night?"

"His Grace, your brother, was confident he would win," the man said. "His pair was unmatched, and they knew the track."

"But he didn't win," Gage said.

Horace shook his head. "Lord Huntington proposed a toast in good faith to the competitors right before the race. I did not know what had been agreed or discussed, only that the duke seemed enthused for the first time in months."

"Do you know what they drank for the toast?" Gage asked.

Horace nodded. "They called it Vin Mariani, a brain and nerve restorative tonic. I remember them talking about it because I wanted a dram of that coca wine myself."

Gage exchanged a heavy look with Lushing and Greydon. Worse than morphine and laudanum, cocaine deadened the nerves and one's ability to feel pain, or anything at all. His gut clenched. Asher would not have felt a thing when he was thrown from the curricle, that was a blessing at least. Gage's voice hardened. "And the loosened bolt on the wheel?"

The man blanched. "I don't know what you are talking about, I swear."

"I think you do," Gage continued. "If you don't tell me the truth, I will see that you face the same fate as your master. Life will not be kind in Newgate, I promise you."

"My wife and child," he stammered. "The lord threatened them. I had to."

Gage felt sick. "My brother died because of you."

"Please, Yer Grace," the man blubbered, tears coursing down his cheeks. "I had no choice. I didn't loosen the bolt all the way, I swear. Only enough for His Grace to realize something was wrong. He was too much of a good driver to not notice. You have to believe me."

Gage wanted to believe him, but even the most honest person could be coerced to lie with the right incentive. Horace could be lying about a wife and child to save his own skin. He needed to dig deeper.

"And the boats at the royal regatta?"

Horace's face fell. "He made me do that, too."

Lushing scowled and Greydon let out a noise of disdain. Gage was no fool. This man might have been coerced to betray a foolish duke who had treated him like kin, but he was in it for the money now. It was obvious from the man's tailored garments and well-soled boots that he was not lacking in coin. Working for an unscrupulous man like Huntington would undoubtedly be lucrative.

"Does Huntington owe any money?" he asked, remembering that Lushing had mentioned money troubles a while ago.

Horace blinked, relief crossing his features. "Aye. To the Covent Garden lads. The money from the boat race would have covered some of the sum owed, but he's supposed to be coming into a large dowry."

Gage exchanged looks with Greydon and Lushing. Viola's dowry. No wonder Huntington had been in his cups the night he'd revealed everything to Evangeline. The Covent Garden lads were some of the hardest, roughest men in London, and they took their lending very seriously.

"You swear this account is true?" Gage asked.

A fervent nod. "Aye, Yer Grace."

"Pray that it is, for your sake."