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“But what about your uncle? Surely he would intercede on your behalf?”
“I can’t be certain that he does not support his wife. Ever since she arrived, he’s been different.” She bit on her lower lip.
“What do you want me to do?”
“I want you to talk to Julie and Lord Ashbury,” Evie said resolutely. “I want you to help arrange my elopement. As soon as we can.”
Sam’s eyes widened. “You want to elope. With Lord Ashbury.”
Evie nodded. “Is it too much to ask? You know there’s no one else who would do this for me, and it’s not like I can do it myself under the watchful eye of Lady Montbrook. But if you are uncomfortable with this—”
“Me? Uncomfortable?” Sam tried to sound cheerful. “Don’t be ridiculous. This is going to be an adventure.”
Evie chuckled and shook her head. “I am glad my life is providing you with entertainment.”
“I shall have it done. Do not fret about anything.” Sam stood. “Now, I better leave before your relatives realize I am here.”
* * *
John woke up covered in a cold sweat, groaning and twisting his bedsheets in his hands. He opened his eyes and squinted against the bright morning sun. He sat up, looking around. He was in his bed, on the covers, and not at his usual sleeping place on the floor.Interesting.
More interesting, however, was the fact that he’d slept through the night without waking. He must have been exhausted.
He looked down and saw that he was still wearing his evening clothes. And that’s when he remembered. He’d had one of his nasty headache spells in the garden at Lady Royston’s ball. He hadn’t had one that bad in a while. When he was in the country, he rode to his heart’s content, working in the fields with his farmers. Physical labor always tired him out enough that he rarely woke during the night. Sometimes it kept the nightmares at bay.
But he couldn’t go back to the country yet. The things were dire at his countryseat; the house was drafty and in need of repairs, and the villagers did not have enough provisions for the winter. He needed to get the money, and he needed it fast. That was why it was pertinent he enticed the Duchess of Somerset into a betrothal. Once he did that, he could go back to country life and perhaps his nightmares would subside too.
But those plans had been developed before he found out that the duchess’s dearest friend, Miss Samantha, was in fact his Angel. The lady whose letters had kept him sane for the last years of the war. The one who got him through the most troublesome months in the hospital bed.
When John received the correspondence he had been dosed with laudanum and he’d been out of it for several days, but he was certain there was no one left in the world to write to him. Still, he opened the letters and read their contents. And for a while, the world righted itself. A sweet young lady was writing the letters, and it was as if she was addressing him in her correspondence.
Dear Soldier,she’d written.The spring is beautiful in England this year. I wish I could share it with you.
He would become engrossed in her world of frivolities, her first season, and smile to himself. He’d read them over and over again for weeks as he lay in that hospital. Still hurt, still injured and tired, but not hopeless. But then, the last letter came. John reached instinctively for the breast pocket of his coat and patted it with his hand.It’s still there.
It seemed impossible. It seemed like a dream. Had he truly found her? And then that blasted headache had hit him, and he’d had to retreat to his home before he disgraced himself in front of theton, and more importantly, in front of her. He’d spent so long dreaming about finding her, about holding her, and telling her how much she meant to him. And there she was, standing in front of him, and all he could do was gape at her and then run away.
He got up and stretched. His muscles protested at the movement, his joints cracked, his body ached. The years of sleeping on cold, hard ground, of breaking his bones, and collecting injuries made themselves known. He ordered a warm bath and soaked for a while before finally venturing downstairs.
It was past noon. A lot later than he usually came down from his rooms. However, he had no wish to exit the house that day. He needed to come up with some sort of plan. How would he approach Miss Samantha? What would he say to her?
He entered his dining room and saw his breakfast, cold on the dining room table. Luncheon wouldn’t be ready for hours yet, and he had to eat. He sat and poked at the cold eggs and bacon. After years in the army, cold eggs and bacon still seemed like a heavenly feast.
The butler entered the room and bowed. “A letter arrived for you, sir.”
John wordlessly stretched his arm out and the butler put the missive in his hand. John opened the envelope as he chewed and read.
Lord Ashbury,
Please meet me on the morrow at dawn near the Serpentine. You know the spot. It is of extreme importance. I shall explain everything there.
Regards,
Miss Samantha.
His heart raced, and his breathing accelerated. John stared at the piece of paper for a long mute minute, wide-eyed. What did she want to talk to him about? Was she curious about the letters? Should he admit his pathetic feelings toward her and stop this charade with the duchess? Was it possible she was interested in him as well? Millions of thoughts rushed through his head. He’d waited years to finally find her; But it seemed impossible to wait one more day.
