Page 66 of The Last Duke She'd Marry
Puzzled, Evesham studied her through the gloom, while light rain pattered on the roof. “I’m not complaining. Conversation is easier if we’re on our own.”
Conversation and other things. But Juliet had rejected him over and over. He couldn’t imagine that she joined him with a view to consummating their chaotic relationship.
To his great regret.
You’re here to give her your support and aid, man. Nothing else. Don’t start building castles in the air. Or bedrooms at the next inn. Helpful, gallant, and respectful. Those are your watchwords for today.
As she untied her gray bonnet, she sent him another assessing look that he couldn’t interpret. She brushed the raindrops off the high crown and set it on the seat beside her. “Thank you for picking me up on the drive. That obnoxious Celia Edgecombe is still hanging around like a bad smell. I didn’t want her to see me go off with you. She’s got the nastiest tongue in Mayfair.”
After Evesham’s knock on the roof, the carriage rolled forward. “What did Portia say about your father throwing you out?”
He supposed that this was none of his business. He and Juliet weren’t friends. To be honest, he wasn’t sure what they were. Not lovers, to his sorrow. In his opinion, they suffered the unpleasant aftermath of sin without any of the preceding delights. The best description that he could muster for his relationship with Juliet Frain was companions in adversity.
Evesham waited for Juliet to put him in his place, but she sighed and answered readily enough. “I didn’t see Portia. Papa has forbidden her any contact with me. He ordered her to her room and placed a footman at the door to keep her there.”
“That’s rotten,” he bit out.
He still had difficulty equating the tyrannical father with the exuberant fellow he’d come to know during rehearsals. Although he supposed the man had always had a taste for histrionics.
He’d come to like Lord Portdown – until the man turned on his eldest daughter. Evesham was no expert on love, but he had an inkling that unless it was unconditional, it wasn’t worth a farthing.
“He’s making a point.”
“Portia won’t stand for that.” Over the last week, Evesham had developed a great respect for Lady Portia’s determination to be her own woman.
“She won’t, but just now, discretion is the better part of valor. I’ve left a letter for her, telling her that I’m traveling with you. Once I’ve found lodgings, I’ll set up some way for us to communicate.”
Despite his stern lecture to himself, he couldn’t help being far too aware that he merely needed to lean across the well between the seats to touch Juliet. By Jericho, if he sat beside her, it would be a snip to take her into his arms.
He forced himself to concentrate on practicalities as a distraction from what he really wanted to do. “I’ve asked Mulray to make for London, but we can go somewhere else if you’d rather.”
“London might be best. I can get lost in the crowd there, and it will be easier to sort out the details of how I mean to go on.”
“I’ve been thinking about where I can take you. If I put you up at Hebden House, we’ll just stir up more talk. Although you’d be safe and comfortable there, and I’d enjoy your company.”
Another of those bleak smiles lengthened her lips. He’d always admired her spirit, but never as much as now, when her life lay in utter ruin. She had such courage. Most women would bewail their fate, but Juliet faced adversity with her head up. “You speak as if I have a chance of coming back from this.”
“One lives in hope. You obviously have hopes, too, or you wouldn’t give a rat’s arse about Celia Edgecombe.”
“I’m also thinking about Portia. Papa was right about one thing – two scandalous sisters have spoiled her prospects.”
“Two scandalous sisters, and a menagerie of animals.”
It wasn’t the greatest joke in the world, but he felt like a king when she responded with a brief laugh. “The irony is that I always thought Porsh was the sister most likely to get into trouble. Now she’s the only daughter Papa’s in charity with.”
Evesham rolled his eyes with theatrical exaggeration. “Give her time.”
Another huff of amusement. “You’re trying to make me feel better.”
“Is it so obvious?”
“Yes. And appreciated.”
He leaned back against the leather upholstery and stretched his long legs out between the benches. Did he say he felt like a king? No, by gum, he felt like an emperor.
The carriage turned out of the gates. He doubted that he’d be back, despite these few days at Afton Park changing his life. To think, his fate had hinged on losing a hand of piquet.
“I thought you’d hate my guts,” Evesham said, as the carriage gathered speed on the road north.
