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“You look well this evening, Evelina,” he said, in his usual patronising tone. “I hope you are ready for the big announcement. We have bottles of the best champagne chilling in anticipation of it.”
Evelina glowered at him. “Do not fear, Richard. I will do my duty.”
“That’s the spirit,” he said, patting her on the arm. “You will do well as Mrs. Edward Beaumont, Sister. To be sure, it is a bit of a comedown in status, but youwillbe Lady Beaumont one day.” He paused. “And beggars cannot be choosers, after what happened, can they?”
Evelina’s hands tightened into fists. She wanted to reach out and slug him right in the middle of his patronising face. But what would be the point? It wouldn’t change anything. She was destined to marry that detestable man, and it would only upset Papa.
She glanced anxiously at the clock again. She just wanted this evening to be over with. If only the hands of time would move quicker.
***
Jude sat back in the carriage as it hurtled along the road out of Shrewsbury. He only had time to wash quickly and change into the fine evening jacket the duke gave him as soon as he stepped into the carriage.
“You will do,” said the duke, his eyes roaming over him. “There is simply no time to stop and dress properly. We are running late as it is.”
Jude grinned. He was on top of the world, unable to believe that this was happening. He was hurtling through the night in a grand carriage, travelling back to Bosworth Manor, to attend the Christmas Eve ball. He was returning toher, the woman he loved, the woman who he would always love, but thought he would never have.
Soon, I will see Evelina again, he thought, his heart surging.It is truly a miracle.
“Thank you, your Grace,” he said, bringing his mind back to the present. He gazed at his long lost father, sitting opposite him, who was nodding approvingly. “You promised to tell me how you discovered I was the son of the Marquess of Winston.”
“Call me Father,” said the marquess, his eyes misting. “I insist, my dear boy.”
Jude smiled at him shyly. He just couldn’t do it. Not yet, at any rate. It was still too new and overwhelming.
The duke frowned. “Well, it was by sheer chance,” he said, shaking his head incredulously. “It was something that Sir Henry Beaumont said at the dinner table last evening.” His frown deepened. “He was in his cups and declared he knew who you were; the spitting image of your father. But how could he have known who your father was? You are not even from the district.”
Jude nodded. The marquess was listening intently as well.
“I insisted on a private talk with him later,” continued the duke. “I asked him straight out what the comment was all about. He had been drinking quite a lot by this stage and just blurted that he thought you were the long-lost son of the Marquess of Winston.
He had vanished years ago while still a small child in leading straps, after a carriage robbery had gone awry. He said the resemblance was striking, mentioning that you said you grew up in an orphanage and abandoned the same year as the shocking incident occurred.”
Jude’s jaw dropped. Now he knew why the gentleman had acted so oddly that day he had approached him and why he had questioned him about his background.
The duke took a deep breath. “Now, I had heard of the incident myself, but I was not well acquainted with the marquess,” he continued. “However, I knew His Lordship had become a virtual recluse after the death of his wife and the shocking events of that year.” He paused, smiling. “I knew he lived on the other side of Shrewsbury. And I was determined to find out if it was true or not, so I set out the very next morning.”
“Why?” asked Jude, shaking his head, unable to believe it.
The duke looked surprised. “For a few reasons, my boy. The first being that if youwerethe lost son of the marquess and should be reunited with your father. It was a terrible thing that occurred. You lost your entire family. The marquess lost his, as well.” He hesitated. “I wanted to do the right thing for both of you.”
Jude shook his head again. Evelina had always said her father was a kind man, and now he knew it was true. How many men would have gone out of their way to do such a thing on a hunch?
“But that was not the only reason,” continued the duke, his smile widening. “My daughter loves you, Jude. She truly does. And it was breaking my heart to see her suffering so much.” He frowned.
“And I was getting averybad feeling about Edward Beaumont, her betrothed. The man talked to her appallingly last night. Evelina fled from him in tears. I followed the man through the garden at Bosworth and saw him in a compromising position with a kitchen maid.”
Jude gasped. “What did the maid look like?”
The duke glowered. “The only thing I saw was her red hair,” he said, his face dark. “But it was the final straw. He was treating my Evelina terribly. I couldn’t let her marry that man. I knew he would punish her for the rest of her life for her transgression with you, and she would be utterly miserable.”
Jude’s heart shifted. He was fairly certain that the maid the duke had discovered cavorting with Edward Beaumont was Sally Potter. He wasn’t surprised in the least. She had always been ambitious. But this time, Sally might have bitten off more than she could chew. He wondered if he should inform the duke of her name. He could get her dismissed in an instant. It would be justice after what she had done to him and Evelina.
But then he changed his mind. Revenge wasn’t his style. And he simply didn’t care enough about the maid, or what she had done, any longer. Not now, with everything turning out so wonderfully well.
He gazed at the duke steadily.
“You have broken the betrothal, then?”
