AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I shall not require you for long. As you are so busy of late—" she emphasized the word "—I should very much appreciate your speaking with me immediately."
Inwardly gnashing his teeth, he gave her the only reply possible. "Very well. I'm at your disposal, madam."
"Are you?" Her face grave, she surveyed him up and down. "We shall shortly see."
With those unencouraging words, she beckoned him up to the sitting room.
He strode in and hesitated before the Louis XV sofa.
"Sit, please." She walked to a side table where tea had been set out. "Should you like a cup?"
"No, thank you, Mama."
She halted, her hands in the process of pouring a cup, then set down the pot. "Very well." In a swish of skirts, she came to sit beside him. “I had hoped never to see the day when you were too busy to take tea with me."
'"Tis hardly that," he protested, irritated. "I've just supped, you will remember. And I am busy, so if you could tell me what you wished to say?"
She sighed. "I expect it's not a good time, but of late there hasn't been a better one. I shall just state it baldly, then, without roundaboutation. Do you intend to keep your promise to Richard regarding Andrea?"
The question caught him off guard. "W-what?"
"Your vow to marry her. I was present when you promised Richard, you will remember.".
He hadn't remembered. Not sure yet himself how he would reconcile that pledge with his need for Emily, he had no ready answer; exhausted both physically and emotionally, he was ill-equipped to reason it out on the spot. Irritation deepened to anger.
"I shall arrange something. I've always told her if she found no other man to her liking, I would marry her."
“If she is set upon leaving London, she's unlikely to meet anyone else. You know how she avoids society—"
"She'll be taken care of," he snapped. "I should see to it even if I'd not promised Richard. Sorry, Mama, to be so abrupt, but I'm fatigued and I have pressing business. If you'll excuse me?"
"Another moment, please!" She held out a hand to stop him as he rose from the sofa. Fuming, almost out of his skin with impatience to be off, with great reluctance he sat.
"I know you're tired—we're all tired. And I hate forcing you to a matter you obviously don't wish to discuss, but 'tis important. Indeed, 'tis crucial."
She paused, as if gathering her thoughts. Too weary to attempt anticipating them, he gritted his teeth and waited.
"This 'pressing business' that's been so occupying you these past months...it's a woman, isn't it? A woman unworthy of you."
Totally unprepared for the attack, he found the words leaving his lips before his overwrought mind could judge their wisdom. "She is the equal of me or anyone!"
Damn and blast, he swore under his breath. He should have ignored the statement, pleaded ignorance. Emily was the last topic he wished to discuss with his mother, even when in full possession of his wits, which he was definitely not at this moment.
"Unworthy of you," his mama repeated. "If she were not, you'd have brought her to me long ago."
He stared at her, fiercely resenting her prying, resisting her words, but unable to counter them. How could he explain to her his Emily—her courage, her endurance, her charm and fire?
"This is none of your concern."
"Oh, don't bristle up! I realize you are a man grown, with a life that does not wait upon my approval. Nor, must you admit, have I ever before questioned your.. .little affairs. But this is different, I can feel it. This is...serious."
She paused, as if waiting for him to speak. Having nothing he wished to say, he remained silent.
Lady Cheverley sighed. "You will not make this easier, will you? I am sorry to meddle in a matter you obviously consider none of my business, but I must ask. Just what are your intentions in regard to this...lady?"
Having no clear answer to that question himself, he held on to his rapidly fraying control with an effort. "No disrespect, Mama, but I repeat, this is not your concern."
"You can hardly argue that the welfare of our family and your sister's future are no concern of mine."
He stiffened. "And you, madam, can hardly believe I do not keep a watchful eye over both."
“Do you, Evan? Have you, these last three months? Tell me, this lady whom you so admire—would she be deemed your equal in the eyes of the world?"
"The world is a shallow and cynical place, Mama. In any arena that judges true merit she would."
His mother sighed deeply. "Oh my son, I wish we lived in such a place. But we must deal with the world as we find it. Can you be considering—marriage?"
When he made no immediate denial, she drew in her breath sharply, her eyes widening in alarm. "Then it is more serious even than I feared. Oh, my dear son!" She leaned over and imprisoned his hands between her own. “Can you not see what effect such a dreadful misalliance would have on your family? On Andrea? On your innocent sister?"
"Mother, I think this has gone far enough—"
"You must listen! You will listen!" She hung on to his hands as he attempted to pull away, waiting until, anger raging so fiercely he could barely prevent himself from jerking free and stomping out, he at last reluctantly met her gaze.
"Speak your piece, then, and have done with it."
"Andrea would make you an unexceptional wife, though I am not set on her, should you prefer another of your own rank and station. Despite her limp and lack of fortune, I feel sure we could fulfill your pledge to Richard by contriving another suitable match. But if you were to disgrace the family with a misalliance such as you seem to be contemplating? Oh, Evan! For myself, I care nothing. But what of Andrea and Clare—what would happen to their prospects were you to make us outcasts from polite society?"
He tugged at the hand she still held, struggling to contain his fury. "I believe I know enough what is due my name not to make a misalliance. Nor do I see at present any need to marry at all. I'm hardly in my dotage, Madame."
"Let's suppose, then, that you maintain an informal but long-term...alliance with this lady. What if there should be a child?"
He felt a flush hotter than anger stain his cheeks. “How irresponsible do you think me?''
“Oh, Evan, no protective measures are completely effective! Just consider—should your...precautions fail, could you stand aside and see your babe by a woman for whom you obviously care deeply born out of wedlock? Can you swear to uphold your duty to the family even then?''
For the first time he thought of Emily bearing a child. A child to displace her fixation on the soldier, his child of her body, the body he worshipped every night they lay together. His son.
And realized with unshakable certainty he could never give up such a child, never allow him to be born a bastard.
The conviction must have been written on his face, for his mother shook her head silently. “You see how it would be. Oh, my darling, I am sorry it will cause you pain, but you must break with her. You must! Now, Evan, before something... irreversible happens.''
That she was correct, that she was forcing him to face the full implications of an undeniable, unpalatable truth he'd never before considered, made his guts churn with impotent fury. Break with Emily? The very notion sent a lance of agony to the core of him.
First Richard, now Emily? One could lose only so much of one's self and go on. Writhing inwardly, he tried to twist out of the dilemma.
"Have I not always done what is necessary?"
“Then you must break with her and form an attachment elsewhere—with Andrea or another, it matters not as long as she's suitable. Only a formal betrothal will prevent your resuming...inappropriate bonds. My darling, I know this is the worst possible time, with us all still in agony over Richard, but later you'll be grateful you took the proper course." Her eyes pleading, she squeezed his hands.
Hardly able to bear her touch for the rage churning in him, he jerked away. Speaking softly, lest the howling beast within break free to rant at her, he said, "Dare you presume to instruct me in my duty?"
She flinched at the harshness of his tone, tears starting at the corners of her eyes, lips trembling. But she held his gaze, implacable.
"If you know your duty, then do it."
With a growl he flung himself to his feet. "Very well. If I must marry someone suitable,'" he snapped, giving the word savage emphasis, "then it might as well be Andrea. I'll propose as soon as she's recovered enough to hear me. You shall have your socially approved wedding. But ask me nothing more."
She grabbed at his arm. "Dearest, I didn't mean—"
"Unhand me!" he barked, ripping his sleeve free.
Weeping openly now, fingers to her mouth, his mother nodded. Without a backward glance he stalked out.
Chapter 10
Despite his bone-deep weariness, instead of riding or summoning a hackney Evan set out for Emily's town house on foot. He needed time to sort out his ragged emotions and decide what to do.
A few blocks of pacing were enough to convince him, much as he frantically tried to devise some rational alternative, that his mother was indeed right.
He couldn't marry Emily. Doing so would irreparably damage his sister, for no family of stature would wish to align itself with one so lost to what was due its name and lineage. Andrea would likely not marry, either, unless he wed her. There was no other way to preserve honor, to honor his vow. Ah, Richard, he thought, bleeding inwardly, how could you ask this of me?
