Chapter Twenty-Three

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

"Hullo, Jenkins," Evangeline said to the butler, who went a brilliant shade of red. She wasn't wearing a cloak to hide her features or going by a fictional name this time. No, she'd arrived in her father's coach with his coat of arms, and she was dressed in a new traveling costume and fashionable bonnet. Viola had accompanied her and waited in the carriage.

"Miss Philergood?" he stammered.

"Lady Evangeline, actually."

Philergood. The audacity. She felt her cheeks heat at the memory of the brazen moniker. She'd been driven by other pressing needs at the time, and the Duke of Vale had risen to the challenge remarkably well.

Breath fizzling, she bit her lip and brought her wandering mind back into focus. "Is the duke at home?"

"Er, he's not here, my lady."

Evangeline felt her face fall, her reply lost. It was much too early for Vale to be up and about. Perhaps he did not want to see her. She fought the regret that churned in her gut. Perhaps this was fate's way of saying let sleeping dogs lie. A blessing in disguise.

She gave a nod. "Will you tell him that Lady Evangeline Raine called?"

The young man fidgeted, and Evangeline suppressed a smile. He was not cut out to be a stoic London butler who let nothing show on his face. "He's been arrested, my lady."

Her smiled slipped. "Arrested?"

"This morning, the chief inspector came. Said the duke owed a man named Huntington money and refused to pay. They took him for questions."

Evangeline blinked in shock and surprise. She couldn't very well leave town now. The thought of Vale being held in police custody because of a scheming liar like Huntington didn't sit well with her. Redirecting her coachman, she gave her sister an apologetic look as she climbed back into the conveyance. Viola shot her an inquiring glance.

"We need to make a stop," she told her. "Number Four Whitehall Place."

"Scotland Yard?" her sister asked.

Evangeline nodded. "One and the same. Your former suitor has made up some cock-and-bull story about the duke. I intend to clear his name."

"He is a wretched man," Viola muttered. "I cannot believe I ever fell for his lies. He asked me for pin money once, did I tell you? To cover him for a bet one evening. The man is a scapegrace." She shuddered. "Not to mention a bully with a rotten temper."

Glowering, Evangeline stared at her younger sister. "Did he harm you after the regatta?"

"Oh, no. He was much too cowardly to do anything after his public outburst, and he became quite solicitous. If he hadn't shown his true colors, or if I were more of a fool, I would have fallen for his act. Then I overheard him crowing to his friends about how he planned to spend my dowry. I was a golden goose to him, you see. The answer to all his considerable money troubles." She swallowed and looked out the window. "I decided to be like my older sister and put my fortune to a more useful purpose. Since William doesn't need it, I'm going to use it to start a fashion line. Lady Marsden was impressed with my ideas."

Evangeline choked up. "That's amazing. But you do know that William loves you. He always has."

"I know," her sister replied softly. "And in time, I will love him, too. Love isn't always about fireworks or parties and diversions. It can be quiet and unhurried. And sometimes, it takes patience and work to nurture the smallest seed into germination."

"How did you get so wise?"

Tears glimmered in her sister's eyes, but she tossed her golden-brown curls. "I was always wise, Effie, considering I had such an excellent role model. You were simply too busy with your menagerie to notice."

"Shelter animals," she corrected with her own watery smile.

When they arrived at Scotland Yard, Evangeline was surprised at the commotion outside the building. She recognized three of the flashy coaches, one belonging to the Duke of Vale, and the other two with Greydon's and Montcroix's coats of arms. Three dukes at the Metropolitan Police had to be some kind of record.

"Wait here," she told Viola. "I won't be long."

She descended the coach and was crossing the yard when Vale came strolling into view, flanked by Vesper's and Nève's husbands. She faltered, seeing that he was obviously unharmed and not interned. Upon seeing her, he came to a halt, russet brows pulling together in a frown. The men at his sides grinned and made themselves scarce as he closed the distance between them.

"Evangeline? What are you doing here?"

The knot in her throat doubled. "Your butler said that men came and you had been arrested. I came… to save you, I suppose."

"You thought I was in trouble?" Those clover-green eyes of his sparkled, making her desperately want to smile.

Embarrassment was swift, but she quickly regained her equilibrium. "Yes, well, you seem to require constant supervision at all times, like a wayward child. Rescue from kittens, burning buildings, and nefarious forces. You are a walking calamity, Your Grace."

His crooked half grin made a slew of butterflies erupt in her chest. "You thought I was in trouble."

"Repeating it does not make it hold more relevance, sir."

Evangeline drank him in as he stood there, watching her, letting her hungry gaze wander over his features. There were dark circles beneath his eyes and lines of strain at the corners of his mouth, but otherwise, he looked as compellingly beautiful as always. It wasn't a word that others would use to describe him—he was much too big and rugged—but beauty was ever held in the eyes of the beholder.

"I've missed you, Evangeline," he said at the same time that she asked, "What happened then?"

He cleared his throat. "I wasn't arrested. Huntington owed money to some very bad people and coerced my brother's groom to damage his curricle, causing his death during that dreadful race, and then tried to have him sink our vessel at Henley to throw the race. The groom was giving his account to the police. I came at the request of the chief inspector to bear witness."

"Oh." She put her hand on his arm and squeezed. He stared down at it, her palm tiny on his wide forearm, but Evangeline had no desire to remove it. "I am so sorry about your brother."

"At least the truth is out."

They both turned as a scowling Huntington emerged from the building with his very livid father. He looked like a sullen little boy who had been caught red-handed. Sometimes too much power and influence corrupted people, making them feel they could do anything without consequence. That had obviously been the case with Huntington for years. He'd been a spoiled rotten young man who had grown into an even worse adult.

"What will happen to him?" she asked.

"Nothing formal, I suspect," Vale said. "There's no real proof, other than the groom's account. He's a peer and his father is a respected man, despite his son's dishonest nature. We'll let his father handle him."

"That's it?" Viola asked from behind them. Rage suffused her pretty face as she stalked across the courtyard toward her former paramour. "That's not enough for me."

"Viola, what are you doing?" Evangeline muttered, hurrying after her.

Viola stopped in front of Huntington, who, despite his predicament, still had the ballocks to sneer down at her. "You are a sorry excuse for a man. What kind of gentleman maligns a woman for having a voice or puts their hands on them with intent to harm?" She got right in his face, making him back up a step. "You are a pathetic coward with an insecure disposition who couldn't handle that a woman was more than you could ever be."

"Lady Ghastly and Lady Featherhead, what a pair," he drawled, though his face was pinched at her insults. "Enjoy your life of insignificance."

"Better than a life of pettifoggery. I know a few big words too, you prickless weasel."

Huntington snatched her left wrist in a pincerlike grip, and Viola froze. Then she did what no one expected. She pulled back her free arm and walloped him right in the face, making him drop his hold instantly. "That's for my sister!"

Evangeline's mouth fell open, because her valiant sibling didn't stop there. With a roar, Viola lifted her hem, pulled her foot back, and kneed him right in the groin. "And that's for me! Don't ever touch me again!"

"Viola!" Evangeline burst out, eyes rounding in utter shock.

"What?" her sister asked when Huntington let out a high-pitched scream and fell to the dusty ground, clutching his spurting nose and cupping his crotch.

There was dead silence, and then Greydon and Montcroix burst into laughter from across the yard. Huntington's father shot his son a disgusted look and climbed into the coach, but Evangeline swore she saw a smile pulling at the older man's lips. It looked like Huntington would get his just deserts, after all.

"Where did you learn that?" she asked Viola.

Her sister eyed her with a grin. "William showed me." Her grin widened. "He doesn't condone violence, but he said that if Huntington or any man ever put his hands on me, I was to defend myself thus. No one tells you how much a punch bloody hurts though," her sister complained, wiggling her bruised fist. "Ow!"

"Next time, go for the fleshy part of the throat," the Duke of Vale suggested.

Evangeline was still staring at her baby sister in wonder. "Remind me to thank William. I must admit seeing Huntington go down like a sack of rocks was more entertaining than expected." She winked at Viola. "Don't make a habit of it, will you? Papa will not approve."

"I'm not the one keeping habits that will shock our father, sister." Face going hot, Evangeline sputtered, her eyes darting to the duke in mortification. Had Viola been eavesdropping during her confession to her friends? She suppressed a groan. Of course she had. Her sister was a master of artifice. She opened her mouth and closed it. Viola winked and clasped her hands behind her back as she strolled to the carriage.

"I never noticed that she's quite terrifying," Vale murmured.

"Me either."

They stood there, the awkwardness between them unspooling. There was too much left unsaid, too much betrayal and injury. Too much heartache. She understood why he'd done what he did—she also would have done whatever she had to in order to protect Viola. That didn't mean the trickery didn't hurt, even if his intentions had changed. Even if he'd fallen as hard as she had.

"You never did tell me why you went to my residence," he said softly.

She bit her lip, the lump in her throat enormous. "To say goodbye."

"You're leaving?"

"It is customary if the season is finished to head back to one's country homes, Your Grace." She blew out a breath. "My animals need me. Papa has agreed to give me my dowry for expansions. That's my purpose. It's what I always wanted."

Until you.

She shoved that away. That chapter of her life was now closed.

"That is wonderful, Evangeline. You deserve to be happy." He watched her, so many emotions swirling in his green gaze that she could hardly separate them all. One hand rose to rub at his nape. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry I hurt you. I know now that I was wrong to take Huntington's offer, even if I hoped to dig myself out of debt, but then things went from bad to worse at the manse, and I felt as though I had no other choice." He exhaled, swallowing hard. "It's no excuse, but I'm sorry I lied to you. You must know that everything else was real."

Oh God, her rib cage felt like it was cracking down the middle. "Nothing good can come of a million truths built on a lie."

His expression crumpled. "I know and I'm sorry."

"But I forgive you, Your Grace," she went on softly, knowing letting go was the only real way she could start to heal.

"Thank you." He nodded, his handsome face so somber she could hardly bear it. "Goodbye then."

Evangeline wanted nothing more than to run into his arms, wrap them about her, and demand a different end. But how could she ever trust him again? Her lungs seized, tears pricking the backs of her eyes. That was the thing about truth. It was hard, swift, and relentless, and in the end, it was the only thing that mattered.

She paused and let him see every emotion in her eyes—her regret, her love, her hopeless yearnings. "Goodbye, Gage. I hope you can be happy, too."

Was this how things were supposed to end?

How could he be happy without her ?

Gage, too, had returned to Chichester shortly after the Raines left, though he hadn't ventured far from his estate. Without the weight of Asher's vowel looming over his head, he'd been able to hire workers to begin repairing the manse. He was also able to put Evangeline's drainage plans in place for his fields. In a year, the crops would be as abundant as Oberton's and his tenants would have farms that actually flourished.

In a year, you won't be here to see it.

Gage rubbed a fist against his chest. Now that his business was concluded, it was time to return to Scotland, just as he'd planned. Boone had agreed to stay on and manage the estate, and fortunately, Gage finally had the funds to make sure the man was well compensated.

To his surprise, he'd received a letter from Huntington's father, who had sent him a considerable fortune from his son's trust. The note had simply said— No amount of money can be enough to make up for the loss of your brother . Thank you for not prosecuting my son. The sum had been too generous, but Gage had never been one to look a gift horse in the mouth. He'd paid off his few remaining creditors, hired Boone, and earmarked the rest into a special trust.

Scotland Yard had exonerated Huntington, which was expected, but Gage had let go of any lingering anger surrounding the man. He had no wish to condemn Huntington to a life in prison or his family to the pain of watching their son wither away behind bars. Sometimes, compassion took more courage than punishment.

Gage stood and surveyed the entrance. Everything at Vale Ridge Park was nearly in place.

"Your Grace," Pierre chided. "You need to get ready posthaste. I heard that even Prince Bertie will make an appearance."

"What's wrong with this?" Grinning at his valet's fastidious nature, Gage glanced down at his worn, paint-stained trousers, the threadbare shirt that was threatening to unravel at any moment, and his scuffed boots. He rubbed the three days' growth of beard on his chin and grinned. "I could be a swashbuckling pirate duke."

"Absolutely not, or I'll quit," Pierre threatened.

Gage laughed at the man's theatrics. "I pay you too much for you to quit, and besides, no one else will put up with you, and you well know it." He blew out a hard breath, doing one last check that everything was in place. "Very well, good sir. I leave myself in your excellent hands."

His valet sniffed. "That's what I'm here for, Your Grace."

And he was worth every penny. Gage shook away the nerves as he followed a much-too-agitated Pierre to his dressing room inside the manse. He supposed the presence of the regent would do that, though his mind was on other things. Another person , in fact. Tonight could go any which way. He'd planned for weeks, but anything could happen.

Evangeline could refuse to come, for one.

Gage could not unravel the knot in his belly even as his diligent valet groomed, shaved, and trimmed him to a man of more ducal persuasion. He preferred the workman, truth be told, but tonight Evangeline deserved the best version of him.

Once he had dressed, he moved to the balustrade of the grand ballroom, now restored to its former glory and elegance. A beautiful woman with dark red hair who was garbed in a stunning emerald gown smiled at him from where she stood a half step away. "It looks exactly as I imagined it could be," she said in a low voice, coming forward to embrace him. "Whatever happens this evening, I'm proud of you, and I'm happy to be here with you."

Gage nodded at his mother, the resemblance between them strong. Lady Catriona Croft dazzled, whether she was in a ball gown holding a fan or in a tartan brandishing a broadsword. "I am glad you could come. I trust your journey was not too tiring."

"It was not," she said. She had gained a few more laugh lines at the corners of her eyes and bracketing her lips, but the dowager looked good. She peered up at him, eyes seeing through him as they always had. "So this woman? She's the reason for all of this?"

He folded his arms. "The party, yes. The restoration, no."

"You know that's not what I mean," she chided and waved a hand at his person, eyes perusing the immaculate clan tartan. "I must admit I've never seen you quite so… debonair. It suits you."

"Mostly thanks to my valet, who insists it was time to embrace my full heritage." Gage stifled his grin. Pierre was now obsessed with kilts.

"Well, you look the part." She narrowed her eyes. "Is she worth it?"

The smile bloomed from the depths of his heart. "She is worth it all."

With a soft smile, his mother nodded and patted him on the shoulder before moving back to the balustrade. Gage glanced down at the guests already filling the room. Relief filled him that people had accepted his invitation, but his guest of honor wasn't there yet. He would know. He would feel it.

His eyes caught on the Duke of Greydon and his extremely pregnant duchess as well as the Marquess and Marchioness of Marsden as they were announced. They made their way over to where the Earl of Lushing was in conversation with the Duke and Duchess of Montcroix and Lady Briar. They had been apprised of his plans. Lushing had laughed and remarked that it was the epic grovel and that Evangeline was smart enough to see right through it.

Still, gratitude filled him that his friend and the others had all come.

"The Earl of Oberton, Lady Evangeline, Lady Viola, and Mr. William Dawson," the majordomo intoned. His heart stuttered in his chest, eyes flying to the woman who occupied his every thought. His breath caught. Dressed in a deep amethyst gown, those moonlight tresses wound through with sapphires, she had never looked more majestic. She was so incandescent, she glowed.

"Oh my," he heard his mother murmur.

Oh my, indeed.

Everything faded as he descended the staircase, stopping himself from running like a lummox. He ignored everyone else but her. He might be dressed to the nines, the epitome of ducal elegance, but propriety had never been his strong suit. He nodded mutely to her father as words deserted him completely. Viola gave a knowing chuckle and dragged her fiancé away.

"You're spectacular," he blurted on a ragged rasp.

Silvery-blue eyes widening, she took him in. "You're wearing a kilt."

He glanced down. "Yes, well, I am a Scot."

Mischief brightened those crystalline eyes as she leaned in, her voice a whisper of a caress against his cheek. "Is it true what they say about Scotsmen and their kilts?"

God, he wanted to laugh, grab her in his arms, and kiss that sassy mouth right there in front of the entire room. But there would be time for that later. He hoped. For now, everything about the evening was for her. "Ask me later," he whispered back, and then bowed, adding more loudly, "Thank you for coming, Lady Evangeline."

She stared down the length of her pert nose, though her eyes twinkled. "Well, I couldn't very well refuse, considering you were calling in the favor I owed you for your coat."

Said coat and the mud pit she'd been stuck in seemed like an eternity away. The handwritten note he'd added to the invitation had been a last-minute indulgence on his part. "I knew you were much too honorable to say no." He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles, permitting himself that small act. "Though I was still afraid you would not come."

Uncertainty shone in her eyes for a moment before her usual cool mask eclipsed it. "Viola insisted, and you know how she gets. And besides, I did not want to miss the unveiling of Vale Ridge Park." She looked up at the gleaming columns and the polished floors, taking in the floral boughs hanging from the ceiling and the gilded accents of understated opulence. "You've outdone yourself, Your Grace."

"Thank you," he said. "I want to introduce you to someone very important to me."

Her gaze flicked curiously to his, and he smiled. Evangeline might not know it yet, but he'd never introduced a woman to his mother. No one had ever measured up before, and if he was going to go all out to win the love of his life back, no stone would be left unturned, no grand gesture uncompleted.

"Oh?"

Her pretty eyes went wide when he beckoned his mother to his side. "Lady Evangeline, may I present Her Grace, Lady Catriona Croft, the Dowager Duchess of Vale and my mother."

Evangeline sank into a curtsy. "A pleasure, Your Grace."

"And you as well, Lady Evangeline," the duchess replied.

"Effie, please," she said with a laugh. "Vale is the only one who insists on my given name."

"It suits you," he said.

"Both are lovely," his mother said and then took Evangeline's hands in hers. "I would love to get to know you later, if you find it in your heart to indulge me."

"It would be my pleasure, Your Grace."

Evangeline seemed quite perplexed as to why his mother would single her out, but then she blinked, her attention falling on some of the guests who had traveled from London as well as other parts of England, and her brows pleated with more confusion.

"What on earth are Sarah Major and Reverend Bates doing here? Are you acquainted?" Her voice fell to a whisper. "Is that the writer Mr. Dickens with them?"

Gage inhaled a deep breath. He supposed it was time to tell her the full truth and explain why her latest mentor and two of the trustees of the Temporary Home for Lost and Starving Dogs were here in Chichester at his home, and in the company of the celebrated writer to boot. He signaled the orchestra, and the music faded away.

Gage cleared his throat, eyes spanning the packed ballroom. "Thank you, everyone, for coming. As you know, the Raine Animal Foundling Shelter is a near and dear project, independently manned by one of our own, Lady Evangeline Raine, right here in Chichester."

He didn't dare look at her, but he heard her soft intake of breath. "Many of these poor creatures have been abandoned and left for dead, and Lady Evangeline has cared for them out of her own pocket and charitable nature. I have a particular affinity to this shelter because if it wasn't for a litter of mischievous kittens assaulting my person, I would never have encountered the most selfless, the strongest, and the most erudite person I've ever met. So please, eat, drink, and dance, and be sure to peruse the animals available for adoption in the next room. We also won't say no to your contributions either."

A laugh filled the ballroom, followed by clapping as he held up a water goblet and lifted it in toast. "To Lady Evangeline!"

"Lady Evangeline!" everyone chorused.

"Gage," she stammered. "What is this?"

Eyes filled with secret pleasure that she'd used his given name in her bewilderment, he peered down at her. "A fundraiser." He handed her a promissory note. "And your first donation."

She stared dumbly at the tremendous sum, eyes goggling at the number. "I can't accept this."

"You can and you will." Gage glanced at the group heading in their direction. "By my guess, you will be receiving a lot more after tonight."

She shook her head as though she could not make sense of what was happening. "I cannot believe this. How did you do all of this? When did you? Wait, did you say there were animals in the next room?"

"Most, except Beasty. He's already been adopted."

"Hannah said," she murmured, still dazed. "I wish I knew who."

"I thought Lucky would like a friend when she comes to visit us."

She was utterly adorable in her confusion, eyes so wide and blue, they were nearly translucent. "I thought you wanted to go back to Scotland."

"How could I?" he whispered. "You're here."

"Gage." Her expression was full of uncertainty… and so much hope his heart squeezed.

His smile was soft. "A categorically foolish fop paid me to convince a rather extraordinary woman to go to London for six weeks, and I didn't count on falling irrevocably and wildly in love with her. I belong wherever you are, Evangeline, and I'll wait, for as long as you need me to. Forever, if that's what it takes."

Her eyes filled with tears, but then she and Gage were thronged by her friends and neighbors who wanted to congratulate and wish her well. There was no more to say, no more Gage could say.

His future was tied to hers, whatever she decided.