Page 70 of Evie and Louis: The Story so Far

Louis stirred and pushed Barnaby’s hand away. “Non.”

Sighing, Barnaby got up and opened the curtains and went to the washstand, picking up the jug of cold water and a towel, and returning to stand over Louis. “I’m sorry, Louis, but it’s for your own good.”

He upended the jug over Louis’ head. What had appeared at first glance to be an inanimate corpse exploded into life and Louis gasped, sitting bolt upright and glaring at Barnaby, his eyes an unholy shade of blue against his pallid countenance.

“Fils de pute!” he said, clearly furious.

“I don’t reckon that’s terribly polite,” Barnaby said ruefully. “Not that I blame you. Rotten of me, I know, but I think you need to sober up and explain what’s going on. Where’ve you been? I’ve worried myself silly fretting over you disappearing like that.”

Louis pushed his sodden hair from his eyes with a shaking hand, and regarded Barnaby with a stark expression that did not ease Barnaby’s concern. “If I had wanted to be sober, I would not have worked so hard on getting blind drunk,” he growled.

Barnaby handed him the towel and sat down, cross-legged, on the floor beside him. “It’s Evie, isn’t it?” he asked quietly. “I knew she’d gone away, of course, but you’ve heard something, I reckon.”

Louis rubbed the cloth over his face and hair and made a bitter sound. Leaning his elbows on his knees, he pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. “Yes. She is gone. Gone far from me, and there’s damn all I can do about it.”

“Well, they can’t keep her away forever,” Barnaby said, not liking the defeated posture of the man before him.

“No,” Louis said, his voice dull. “Just until she’s fallen in love with someone else.”

“Eh? What do you mean? Where is she?”

“Scotland. Staying with her mother’s friend, the Countess of Morven. Both families hope she will make a match with one of their three sons.”

“Oh.” Barnaby frowned, wishing he knew what to say. “Well, they can’t force her to fall in love with one of them.”

“Non,” Louis said, but his expression was one of utter misery. “No more than I can, but they are being given permission and opportunity. From what I hear, they are handsome, eligible young men. Evie will know it is what her parents want, that it will make them happy. More than that, they’ve made it so she cannot correspond with me. They must have done, for I’ve had no word and… and even if she has fallen head over ears in love with some damned Scot, she would not forget me, not leave me without a word… would she?”

There was a world of pain and doubt behind the question that made Barnaby’s chest hurt.

“Of course not!” he said at once. “She’s written to you regularly this many years, has she not? She wouldn’t stop if she didn’t have to.”

Louis nodded, though doubt lingered in his eyes. “If that’s true, then I am certain her father has discovered our correspondence, or perhaps he found one of the gifts I gave her. I am uncertain whether her maid approved of me. She might have said something to him, might have tattled on Evie behind her back. Someone in Paris has been asking questions, trying to dig up my past. I don’t doubt Knight would do such a thing if he knew of my interest in her.”

“But why not confront you, then?” Barnaby asked, frowning. “If he thought you were up to no good with his daughter, I would think a man like Knight would call you out? Confront you, at least.”

Louis shook his head. “He’s not a fool, by any means. Perhaps he might do such a thing if he believed I had compromised her, but if he only suspected we were closer than he would like, he’d never act so rashly. To do so would risk Evie throwing herself into my arms expressly because she’d been forbidden to do so.”

“Oh. Yes, I see. Forbidden fruit and all that.”

“Taking her out of my reach was his best option, and he knew it. Her father is banking on the fact she’s young enough not to be constant in her affections. He’s giving her time to forget about me, to find another, more suitable man to take up her time.”

Barnaby watched his friend with regret, wishing there was something he could do.

“Morven’s son’s, you said? Isn’t he in the north, up around Wick?”

Louis shrugged, such a defeated gesture Barnaby determined he must do something. “He may as well be on the moon. I’ve no friends there, no one on whom I could presume, and I fear causing Evie trouble, for I would not do so for the world. I could beg Knight for an audience, for a chance to court her, but even if I assured him my intentions were honourable, I do not believe he will grant me the opportunity. Worse than that, if I declare myself, Evie herself might turn her back on me. On the few occasions I have tried to make my feelings known, I have felt her uncertainty, her desire not to hear what I want to tell her. I think it might frighten her away and straight into the arms of one of those handsome Scotsmen.”

“She’s very young,” Barnaby observed.

“Oui, as are her suitors in the north,” he said, stripping off his sodden shirt and casting it aside. “They have no skeletons rattling the bones of their past. Knight knows too much of me to view me with any favour. I can hardly blame him. I’m not good enough for her and I don’t deserve her. I know that better than anyone, but I’m a selfish devil and I need her, Barnaby. I cannot bear to consider the future, if….”

Louis’ voice cracked, and he choked out a laugh, staring at Barnaby. “Well, are you not glad you made my acquaintance, mon ami? Merde, but I am a pitiful wretch. Perhaps Evie has had a lucky escape.”

“Now, now. None of that,” Barnaby said briskly. “I am glad to be your friend. Proud too, so stop wallowing. First things first. We need to get you sober and tidy you up. When was the last time you shaved? Or bathed, come to that? You smell like the bottom of a brandy barrel.”

“That good?” Louis replied with a snort, allowing Barnaby to haul him to his feet. “You astonish me.”

“I know. You can’t even be disgusting when you’re drunk. It’s really not fair on the rest of us, Louis.