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“We are. I wish you good night.” She bobbed a curtsey, then hurried from the room and ran up the stairs.
She didn’t take so much as a single breath until she was safely inside the bedchamber and the door was locked behind her. Then she gave a loud sob as she leaned back against it, and the hot tears began to fall once again. This time, they were tears of heartbreak.
CHAPTERFIFTEEN
“I must say, it is strange to be back living in London after all these years, rather than just visiting as I did a few weeks ago,” Lady Margaret murmured. “Of course, I was too worried about what had become of you the last time I was here to even think of my surroundings. Now that I can, I am not sure if I am pleased to be in London or otherwise,” she added ruefully.
Evie, having removed her slippers, sat with her stockinged feet up on the cushioned window seat looking out on the square below. It was busier here than in Yorkshire, of course, with tradespeople calling and fashionable people strolling in the small park opposite, but so far, Evie had not bothered to venture outside herself. For the moment, she was happy to let the world continue on without her participation in it.
They had all arrived at Lincoln House the previous day, thankfully on Evie’s part, and no doubt with relief on Hunter’s. He had made it clear the night before that the sooner he rid himself of her guardianship, the better he would like it.
Whatever his feelings toward her once they arrived here, he had instructed that the housekeeper take Evie and Lady Margaret to the two best guest bedchambers, which he’d sent word be readied for their stay. After which he had disappeared into the bowels of the enormous house with the offhand comment he had business to attend to in his study. He had sent his excuses via his butler in regard to dining with them yesterday evening, and again at breakfast this morning.
It was extremely rude behavior considering the two women were his guests, but no doubt Hunter had had quite enough of their company for some time. He had certainly gone out the evening before, no doubt to dine with friends, possibly the other Ruthless Dukes. Breakfast was another matter, and even Lady Margaret had commented on the absence of their host.
“I have not liked to pry, my darling,” Lady Margaret spoke softly now. “But I know you have been sad since you came back from talking with the duke yesterday evening. I have not wanted to intrude, knowing that if you wished to share the reason for your melancholy with me, you would have done so by now.”
“Thank you,” she choked.
The older woman nodded. “I have also seen the way in which the duke has avoided so much as sitting down to eat a meal with us since we arrived here. All did not go well between the two of you at the inn when you went down to check on him?”
It had been nothing less than a disaster. Even if remembering their intimacies still made Evie tingle and her cheeks blush.
“The duke made it very clear that he no longer wishes to continue with the onerous duty of being my guardian, and that he intends to rid himself of the task as soon as he is able. I can only assume he intends to marry me off to the first man that offers— Good grief.” She sat forward, her forehead pressing against the window as she looked out into the street. “Have you ever seen such a sight as that?”
Evie had certainly never seen such a display of so many different colors on a lady, let alone a young gentleman: the young man wore a purple top hat, magenta superfine, a green waistcoat, and the palest of green pantaloons above brown-topped boots. His linen, at least, was the snowy white preferred by the duke and the other gentlemen Evie had seen walking about the square this morning.
Lady Margaret leaned forward to look at the young gentlemen. “Some might say he is dressed in the height of fashion.”
“Some might also say he looks ridiculous,” Evie snorted. “Isay he looks like a clown I once saw at a fair that came to the village green.” She frowned. “His appearance is rendered even more garish when he is standing beside the gentleman who has just joined him.” The second, slightly older man was elegance personified, dressed totally in black, with pristine white linen.
Lady Margaret looked out into the street again. “I believe that is the Duke of Oxford.”
Evie glanced at her. “Another of the Ruthless Dukes?”
“Just so,” the older woman confirmed dryly.
“I wonder what— No,” Evie gasped as the two men now fell into step together as they walked in the direction of Lincoln House.
Having ascended the steps, the tall, darkly dressed one banged on the front door with his cane. Seconds later, the butler had opened it and admitted the two men into the house.
“No, no, no,no!” Evie swung her legs sideways and rose quickly to her feet. “I shall not marry such a fool as that. And Hunter shall not make me.” She marched determinedly toward the door.
“Evie, you cannot possibly think that the duke would—”
“I do not think, I know!” She threw open the door.
“Remember what happened the last time you made assumptions,” Lady Margaret warned.
Evie’s cheeks burned as she remembered all too well. “I shall not stand for being married to such a popinjay. I shall not!” she repeated fiercely as she marched out of the bedchamber and down the hallway to the wide staircase.
* * *
“I was not expecting to see you here this morning, Granger.” Hunter raised inquiring brows at the foppishly dressed young man who had accompanied Oxford into his study.
He had known of Oxford’s intention to call, Hunter having invited him here when the two men dined together the previous evening. But he had not expected Robert Granger to arrive with Oxford.
“I think we both know that you should address me as Plymouth since I inherited the title of duke from my cuz last year,” the younger man challenged.
