Oh.
It could be that. I could explain away that night. That night everything had been accidental. Brookhouse’s woman in white was a beacon of hope on this strange morning.
“Miss Blackwell,” I started, because her father was right. Everything could be spoken of later, when privacy was guaranteed, not while the four of us stood around the breakfast sideboard. “I think ... ”
But she took her plate from where her father had dropped it and forcefully added several more slices of meat. “I’m the woman Brookhouse was speaking of. Captain Calder was in the throes of the ague and I cared for him. Would you have preferred I let him die, wet and alone?”
He took the plate back. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Evelyn snagged it back and a roll toppled off of it and onto the ground. “Captain Calder was trying to protect my reputation.”
General Blackwell reached over her, grabbed another roll and dropped it onto her plate. “Nothing could damage your reputation with me.”
Tempers lowered and the soft morning light came out from behind a cloud and brightened the room. “I know that, Papa, and I said as much to Captain Calder that morning.” She gave him a smile and a shrug. “And I was planning to tell you and Mama, but then he arrived here hoping to court Hattie and I thought it would be awkward for everyone if I made the story known.”
“He what?” General Blackwell stiffened in a way that those who didn’t know him might not find imposing, but I’d seen that stance and it was a dangerous one.
Miss Pryor's eyes flashed to mine and she stepped away from me. “You did?”
I pursed my lips together and gave Evelyn a very pointed look. No secrets from her family, she’d said.
“I did.” I glanced back and forth between Miss Pryor and General Blackwell. Mrs. Blackwell must have realized something quite interesting was occurring at the sideboard, for she stood from the table and walked toward us. It seemed my private conversation with the general was not going to be private at all. Thankfully, I knew Evelyn would rather not keep secrets from her family anyway.
“Because of the glove,” Evelyn said with a sigh.
I nodded.
“The glove I lost?” Miss Pryor asked with confusion. “Why is there suddenly so much concern over a glove I misplaced six years ago?”
I grimaced. I really had been a poor, lonely fool. “I thought you left it for me on purpose.”
Miss Pryor’s hand went to her throat. “But we barely knew each other.”
I nodded. “I see that now. But at the time?—”
“I don’t care about a blasted glove.” General Blackwell rubbed a hand down his face. “I want to know if you treated my daughter with respect that night. I want to know if I need to run you through.”
“Papa,” Evelyn said with a laugh, “don’t be dramatic. And if you are going to make a threat, at least make it sound plausible. You are much more likely to use pistols than swords.”
It was my turn to take a step back from the sideboard. “I’m certain your father is willing to carry out such a threat,” I said pointedly. She trusted in the love her father had for her, but I wasn’t so fortunate, and the truth was I had acted improperly that night, and even more so last night. General Blackwell’s jaw was clenched and his cheeks uncommonly ruddy. He was posed and ready to spring into action. If Evelyn had ever learned to be biddable, now would be an excellent time for her to polish up that rusty skill. “If it were warranted.”
“Do you think so?” She smiled at me and then at her father. I’d seen hundreds of men cower before General Blackwell, and I’d commanded respect as well, but apparently Evelyn Blackwell outranked us both, for despite my caution and her father’s barely contained outrage, there wasn’t an ounce of fear in her eyes. She had both of us wrapped around her finger. “John kissed me that night in the croft, and I’m afraid it wasquitedisrespectful. I barely knew him.”
I groaned and stepped back again. It seemed biddability was off the table. Of course it was. What had I gotten myself into?
Evelyn lifted her shoulder and grinned as if I should have known what I signed myself up for when I linked my life withhers. I shook my head softly in her direction and then turned to her father.
“I have since apologized,” I said, clear enough for my words to be heard, but without the force of a man who was trying to defend himself. I had no defense, and just as I had suspected, my words meant nothing.
With a growl, General Blackwell took two broad steps to my side and then grabbed the back of my collar, dragging me away from Evelyn. I fell backward, held up only by General Blackwell’s substantial hand and by the heels of my boots which slid along the floor.
I grabbed my collar at the base of my throat and pulled it forward to protect my airway. I didn’t blame the general. I would do the same if someone insulted my daughter. And even though his hands were rough and my feet knocked about the furniture, I couldn’t help the grin that rose to my face.
Evelyn was going to marry me. She would never have told this story—not in that salacious manner—if she didn’t also plan on softening the blow by informing her parents we wanted to marry. Not unless she actually wanted General Blackwell to shoot me. Based on the way her eyes shimmered with endearing pleasure at the sight of both me and her father, I had to assume she did not.
This was a rather inauspicious welcome to the Blackwell family, but it was a welcome nonetheless.
My besotted musings were interrupted when my knee rammed into a dining chair and toppled it to the ground. Mrs. Blackwell gasped and called out her husband’s name.
