Wonderful (32 page)

“I received your message. He’s in jail?”

“Yes, and the club is closed. I’m investigating to learn the identities of the investors, and when I do, they’ll be persuaded not to start it up again. I intend to have Rafferty transported. He shouldn’t be allowed to hang around London and commit further mischief.”

“My feeling exactly.”

Aaron moved as if to come inside, but Bryce blocked him as he had Florella.

Aaron frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“I think you should go away.”

“Go…away? No! I have to see Evangeline.”

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Aaron huffed. “Let me in.”

“No.”

They engaged in a staring match that was odd for them, and typically Bryce would have backed down. He hated to quarrel as much as Aaron but—even before he’d discovered Evangeline was his sister—he’d thought Aaron had behaved very badly toward her. With their kinship revealed, he was even more incensed.

“You can’t talk to her,” Bryce said.

“Don’t be an asshole.”

“What were you planning to say? Were you planning to explain again how you’d like to buy her a house and set her up as your mistress?”

“No, you idiot. If you must know, I’m here to propose.”

Bryce scowled. “Marriage?”

“Yes, marriage. What other kind of proposal is there?”

“Well, there are plenty of illicit ones—as you’ve so deftly indicated.”

“Get out of the way,” Aaron snapped.

“No.”

Aaron blew out an exaggerated breath. “Bryce, what is your problem? I demand to speak with her.”

“No.”

“Ask her if she’ll see me. Let
her
decide if we chat or not.”

“No.
She
doesn’t get to decide. She has a brother now, so she has me to look out for her interests.”

“Really?” Aaron scoffed. “How will you?”

“By keeping her away from libertines and cads such as yourself. Go home to your fiancée, Aaron.”

“I don’t have a fiancée. I cried off.”

“Bully for you.” No emotion showed in Bryce’s expression.

He was delighted that Aaron had come to his senses, but he didn’t suppose for a second the betrothal was off permanently. There was too much money at stake, and Lord Sidwell was a master at coercing Aaron.

“I’m not marrying Priscilla,” Aaron insisted. “I’m marrying Evangeline.”

“So you’ve said. Are you claiming that—in twenty-four short hours—you dumped one fiancée and are ready to glom on to a different one?”

“Don’t be smart. I love Evangeline. I have from the moment I met her.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“You don’t…
believe
me?”

“No.”

Aaron leaned in and shouted, “Evangeline! Would you come down here please?”

They both waited, and Bryce was relieved that Evangeline didn’t appear.

“There’s your answer, Aaron. She doesn’t wish to speak to you.”

“Well,
I
wish to speak with her.”

“You’ll have to convince me that I should permit it.”

“Permit it?” Aaron grabbed Bryce by his shirt and shook him. “Listen to me, you stupid prick, I intend to wed her, and you can’t stop me.”

“Is that right?” Bryce coolly replied.

“Yes. She’ll be mine and no one else’s.”

“I’m fully aware of every low, conniving deceit you perpetrated against her.”

“And I’m sorry for it!”

“Are you?” The question hung in the air between them, and Bryce pushed Aaron away and stepped back. “I might allow you to propose someday. I
might
. But you’ll have to prove you’re worthy of her.”

“You ass!”

“Prove you’re worthy, Aaron. Then you can sniff around her. If you dare.”

Bryce slammed and locked the door, then he sprinted upstairs so he wouldn’t have to hear Aaron sputtering and fuming out on the stoop.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

“Home sweet home.”

Evangeline gazed outside her carriage window at Miss Peabody’s old school.

Though her mother had given her the name of Anne, she didn’t remember being anyone but Evangeline and didn’t think of herself as Anne.

From Bryce’s stories, it was clear she had once lived with her mother and brothers in a house in London, but she didn’t recollect any of it. She recalled only the school—and stern Miss Peabody who’d run it.

In light of all the horrid things that could have happened to her, she supposed she’d been lucky. She’d been safe, had been fed and clothed and educated. She’d had Rose and Amelia as her friends.

But she was curious as to who had arranged for her to be brought to the school, who had paid her tuition year after year. And someone had paid it, or Evangeline wouldn’t have been allowed to remain. Miss Peabody had been a strict businesswoman. There had always been girls who were expelled because their parents were in arrears.

Evangeline’s biggest question was why Miss Peabody had kept her as a teacher. Miss Peabody hadn’t really liked Evangeline—Evangeline had never been able to act as Miss Peabody demanded—so they’d constantly butted heads. Their personalities had been too dissimilar, and with Evangeline having been engaged to Vicar Bosworth, she wondered if Miss Peabody’s dislike hadn’t actually risen to the level of hatred.

So it made no sense that Miss Peabody had offered employment to Evangeline, and Evangeline assumed Miss Peabody had been forced or bribed—probably by the mysterious Mr. Etherton—to retain Evangeline. Why?

She was desperate for answers and had been trying to schedule an appointment with Attorney Thumberton, but he was away from his office on a trip to Scotland and wouldn’t return for several weeks. When he did, she and Bryce intended to sit down with him and have a long talk.

The carriage door was opened, the step lowered, and a footman helped her climb out. Once she was standing on the ground, she suffered an attack of vertigo that was so virulent she visibly swayed, and the footman grabbed her arm to steady her.

She’d been so dizzy lately, the feeling sweeping over her at the oddest moments. Occasionally, she was nauseous too—especially in the mornings—and her burgeoning malady was alarming. Her body seemed to have been altered, her internal anatomy different in ways she couldn’t describe. What could be causing it?

Though she pretended to be hale and healthy, her symptoms were so severe that Bryce had noticed she was ailing. She couldn’t hide her condition.

“Are you all right, Miss Etherton?” the footman asked.

“Yes, I’m fine. I’m just overwhelmed by the trip. I grew up here, and I’m glad to have this chance to visit.”

A foolish rush of tears flooded her eyes. It was so comforting to be back.

Since she’d left, nothing good had transpired. Well, that wasn’t precisely true. She’d met Bryce, so details of her past had been revealed. But those two events couldn’t dispel the overarching impression of calamity.

Her teaching career had ended. Her engagement had been a disaster. She’d fallen in with bad company. She’d leapt into an affair with a scoundrel. She’d ruined herself and nearly been enslaved by a kidnapper. If Bryce and Lord Run hadn’t found her, there was no telling where she’d be. Certainly not at Miss Peabody’s school and eager to be hired as a teacher again by the new owner.

The interview had come as a huge surprise. Rose and Amelia had corresponded with her about it. They’d previously been told that the new owner wouldn’t use the property as a school, that he planned another enterprise entirely. Now, apparently, he’d changed his mind. He was picking teachers and staff, getting ready to advertise for students.

Evangeline had been loafing in London, writing letters of introduction, searching for a post as a governess, which was about as boring a job as she could imagine.

Bryce insisted she could stay with him, but she wasn’t a child and didn’t need her brother watching over her like a nanny. And while she hadn’t asked Bryce about his finances, she suspected he earned his living by gambling and sporadic work in the theater. He wasn’t Lord Run, wasn’t rich and prosperous, so he couldn’t afford to have a lazy, indolent relative move in.

“Shall we wait for you, Miss Etherton?” the footman inquired.

“Would you please? This should take an hour or so. If it looks like it might be longer than that, I’ll send someone out to apprise you.”

He and the driver nodded, and she went inside, reflecting on how grand it was to be thinking about the future—instead of lamenting the past.

During her sojourn in London, she’d deliberately avoided hearing any news. Was Lord Run married to his precious Priscilla? Evangeline hoped he was and that he was miserably unhappy. It was a petty sentiment, but she couldn’t set it aside.

He’d stopped by once, had made that one paltry attempt to see her, but Bryce had chased him off, and he hadn’t bothered to return. His lack of interest disconcerted her. She thought his vanity would have spurred him to try again. Had their liaison been that meaningless to him? Had she been so inconsequential?

Yes. Obviously, it had been incredibly easy for him to let her go, and she had to accept that fact, galling though it was.

Well, she’d definitely learned her lesson. If she had any opinion about Lord Run, it was that he’d opened her eyes to the wickedness of the world. As any preacher could explain—Vicar Bosworth could probably write a book on the subject—the cost of sinning was very high, and she’d never be able to fully repay what she owed.

She had vowed to herself that she would spend the rest of her life doing good deeds and helping others. Maybe by the time she was a very elderly matron, she’d have squared her accounts.

In the main foyer, she smiled to see extensive remodeling was occurring. Walls had been painted. Wallpaper had been torn down and replaced. The colors were brighter, the ambiance livelier.

A maid hustled up. She was wearing a pristine black dress, a crisply-starched white apron. She appeared professional and well trained, which was encouraging. Evidently, competent people were being hired. Would Evangeline ultimately be one of them?

“Miss Etherton?” the girl asked.

“Yes, I’m here for an interview.”

“We’ve been expecting you. If you’ll come this way?”

Evangeline wanted to say,
You don’t need to escort me. I know where the office is
.

Yet she simply tagged along, peeking into each room as they passed. Clearly, the new proprietor was very wealthy. There would be no lectures about scrimping and saving, no nagging to conserve and use less. Why, there would likely be plenty of coal for fires in the winter, and no one would have to wrap up in blankets and shawls to ward off the cold.

She was delivered to the headmistress’s office and told to wait. As she sat in the chair by the desk, it seemed as if she’d never left, and any second Miss Peabody might stroll in.

The door opened behind her, and before she could turn around to see who’d entered, a familiar male voice said, “Hello, Miss Etherton.”

Scowling, she froze. She recognized that voice. It sounded like…Aaron Drake. But Aaron Drake was on his honeymoon. Or perhaps by now, he was at Fox Run with his bride. The very last place he would be was at Miss Peabody’s school.

Alarmed, she glanced over her shoulder and blanched with shock.

“Lord Run?”

“Yes, hello.”

He was more handsome than she recalled. His hair was longer, as if he’d been too busy to visit his barber. It was pulled into a short ponytail, tied with a black ribbon, which gave him an air of a bandit or highwayman. He was casually attired, tan breeches, knee-high black boots, and a flowing white shirt that was partially unbuttoned at the front to reveal a bit of his chest.

A memory assailed her, of her palms running across that smooth flesh, and she pushed it away and leapt to her feet. She was suffering from an absurd yearning to throw herself into his arms but from an even more pressing need to race out of the room.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded.

“I’m preparing to interview you. Isn’t that why you’ve come? To see if I’ll hire you?”

“No, that can’t be right.”

“Why can’t it be?” He gestured to her chair. “Sit, sit.”

“I don’t think I should.”

He passed by very close, and she lurched back so her skirt wouldn’t brush his legs. He’d always had a potent effect on her. She’d never been able to dawdle in his presence and behave like a normal, prudent person. She could smell him and feel his bodily heat. There was an aura around him, an essence of some sort that drew her like a magnet.

She was terribly afraid that—should he snap his fingers and suggest they start in again—she’d jump at the chance.

Was she mad? Had she no sense? No shame?

Her knees were quaking so hard, she truly thought she might collapse. She slid down onto her chair, reeling, perplexed, stunned beyond measure.

He seated himself at the desk, flashing a grin that was a tad smug. “It’s marvelous to see you again, Miss Etherton.” “I can’t say the same.”

“Can’t you?”

“No.”

“Where is your sunny smile?”

“I left it in London.”

“That’s too bad. I was hoping you’d brought it with you.”

Though the notion was ridiculous, it appeared he was flirting with her. Why would he? Was he about to proposition her? Would he play such a cruel jest? She wouldn’t put anything past him. She’d assumed she was seeking an offer of genuine employment. Was she about to be offered another situation entirely?

“I asked you what you were doing here,” she tentatively began. “I haven’t received an answer.”

“I bought the school.”

“
You
bought it?”

“Not originally from Miss Peabody. Some other fellow did, but there was a death in the family and a bankruptcy. Nasty business. He suddenly had no money, so I swooped in and grabbed it. You wouldn’t believe the low price I managed to negotiate.”

“I didn’t realize you were interested in education, Lord Run.”

“I wasn’t, but I spent the summer crossing paths with schoolteachers. You. Rose Ralston. Amelia Hubbard. It seemed like a sign.”

“A sign of what?”

“That perhaps I should branch out.”

“By purchasing a school?”