Chapter 6
EVELYN BLACKWELL
We arrived safely at Blackwell Manor only a day later than planned. I’d walked back to the carriage soon after my sick stranger left and Mama had still been so concerned over Papa’s leg I hadn’t even had to lie about my night. Everyone assumed it was uneventful, and I allowed them to.
It made my stomach twist to once again keep a secret of major proportions from them.
The last time I’d done such a thing, it had ended with disaster—Matilda running off with a groomsman and everyone questioning how she’d been able to keep such a thing hidden.
But this was different. I would never see that man again, and telling them about it would only worry them.
When Papa’s leg was completely healed and Hattie safely engaged to an upstanding young man, I might mention it to them, but for now, there was no reason to add any more scandals to our family affairs.
Now, almost a week later, Papa’s leg only bothered him while he was going up and down the stairs, and he claimed himself not only well enough to greet our guests, but well enough to hide it from them altogether. What was wrong with men? Always playing as if they were well when they were not.
That soldier had been the same. Not even accepting my help buttoning his coat when he’d been in the throes of a raging fever only hours before. He’d managed, but he’d looked as if he might fall over at least twice while doing so.
Where was he now? Had he finally met with his May? What would he tell her of that night? Or would he keep it from her like I was keeping it from my family?
I shook my head. I needed to stop worrying about him. I didn’t even know his name.
He was simply a man taken care of and then kissed when I’d thought he was dying…and married.
In truth, he’d been the one to kiss me. There had been almost nothing I could have done to stop it.
I’d been ambushed. And the truth was, in the days since, the fact that he wasn’t married had softened my guilt of that kiss into a fairytale-like memory.
I’d shared a kiss with a stranger in the middle of a terrible storm.
It was like a scene out of an Anne Radcliff novel—one I’d relived perhaps a few too many times since it had happened.
Even now it was distracting me, and our first guest had just walked in through the door.
Papa shook the hand of Sir Philip, while Mama embraced his wife, Lady Howard.
I hadn’t seen their son, Mr. Vincent Howard, since I was thirteen, nearly ten years ago.
He raised his eyebrows and then gave me a devil-may-care smirk over the heads of our embracing parents.
What was he about? He’d been a grown man, albeit a very young one, last I saw him.
He was kind enough then, but never gave me a look like that.
His light brown hair curled in a becoming manner I most definitely hadn’t noticed back then.
But other than that, he seemed much the same.
He found him handsome and vibrant enough to intrigue me as a girl, and apparently he still was.
He was the highest ranked of the four men Mama had invited, and the only one not affiliated with the army.
He would be a tremendous catch for Hattie, if she liked him.
I returned his smirk with a smile just as he turned to shake Papa’s hand. I shifted to greet his parents.
Mrs. Howard embraced me much as she had Mama—a surprise, but not an unpleasant one. She was round and warm and laughed in my ear about how much I’d grown.
When Vincent reached me, he gave me a low bow and renewed his smirk. “You cannot be that wild thing that bested me with pistols the last time we were here.”
“I assure you, I am that same thing.”
“And are you still a crack shot?”
“She’s much better now,” Papa answered for me.
“And just as wild,” Mama felt it necessary to add.
“I’m hardly wild.” I pulled my shoulders back, highlighting my well-earned posture. “But yes, unless you have greatly improved your shooting skills, I’m afraid I would still trounce you.”
Sir Howard laughed. “He will definitely want a rematch. Being bested by a wee thing like you prompted him to take pistols more seriously.”
Vincent’s handsome features pulled into a pout. “The wounds to my young pride ran deep.”
I traded my smile for a grimace. “I used to be Papa’s favorite party trick.”
“And now?” he asked, his eyes sparking with a gleam of interest.
I tipped my head to the side. “Are you asking for another blow to your pride?”
“Perhaps,” he said. “Or perhaps I am looking to avenge it.”
There was a commotion at the front door, and Aunt and Uncle Pryor were announced.
Hattie looked stunning with her dark hair and her color heightened after her long journey.
Vincent’s gaze rightfully shifted from me to her, his interest unmistakable as he took in her wide open smile and sparking eyes.
The sparks in her eyes were for me, though, and I rushed past him and pulled Hattie into a hug.
It hadn’t been more than a fortnight since we’d seen each other, but we both knew the importance of this house party, and the weight of that heightened my love for her.
After a quick greeting to her parents, and a longer introduction to Vincent Howard and his parents, I snagged her arm and pulled her into the green drawing room, out of earshot from the group.
“Mr. Howard is absolutely delicious to look at.”
“Evelyn.” Color rose to Hattie’s cheeks. “What are you talking about?”
I gave her a soft punch on the shoulder. “You must admit the first of Mama’s men is a good one. I don’t think entangling yourself with him should be any trouble at all.”
Her blush deepened. “Entangling? Please, that doesn’t sound proper at all.”
“Oh, it will all be very proper.” We would make certain of it.
Even if Hattie didn’t finish the house party with a beau, or better yet, a fiance, at a minimum, she and her family would end up with some good friends to ease their way back into society.
And it would defeat the purpose of the whole event if anything improper were to happen while we were hosting it.
Hattie glanced demurely at the doorway. “Perhaps you should have him for yourself.”
“Oh, no. He is much too good-looking for my liking. I wouldn’t trust him, or rather I wouldn’t trust other women around him.”
“But you think I would?”
I gave her a sidelong look. Her dark hair was sleek and pulled back in a proper knot with short, well-behaved curls framing her heart-shaped face.
Her emerald eyes were the kind poets would claim held hidden depths and they wouldn’t be wrong.
Hattie was everything that was good and kind, and her beauty matched her spirit.
“Hattie, you possess the type of beauty that would discourage any young woman from trying to steal your gentleman. It would be futile. You can marry a man as handsome as you like.”
“And you will marry someone whose looks you don’t like.” She nodded as if everything was decided.
I shook my head. “No, of course I shall like my husband’s looks—they will simply have to be of the more rugged variety. The kind that grows on a person but doesn’t immediately draw a crowd.”
Hattie laughed. “I don’t think either of us need to worry too much about future husbands for now. We are still young.”
“True, but if you want to get your clutches in Mr. Howard, I would do it sooner rather than later. Who knows how quickly he will be snatched up when we return to London?”
“My clutches?” Hattie laughed. “Evelyn, the country air has done something to you.”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“It has. You’ve never been quite this enthusiastic about men.”
“Perhaps I’ve never been at a house party especially designed to entrap them before.”
“I won’t be entrapping anyone, and you have most certainly been at house parties like that. You simply weren’t the one planning them.”
“Touché.” Was there any other reason mothers planned house parties?
We were quiet for a moment, the topic I most dreaded hanging on the tip of my tongue. But I couldn’t ignore it indefinitely.
“Have you heard from Matilda lately?” I asked, my voice steady even though the subject of Hattie’s sister was a sore one.
I was one of the few people who dared ask such a question, and I knew Hattie appreciated that I didn’t act as if her sister was dead rather than living in America with a man who ranked far below her.
“I had a letter yesterday.” Hattie smiled and leaned forward. “She seems very happy. And the way she describes the land and the people is fascinating—untamed forests and rivers, people of all ages and ranks treating each other as equals. It all sounds like a grand adventure when she writes of it.”
“I’m glad that at least she is happy.”
Hattie put a hand on my arm. “And so am I. We aren’t such important people that this won’t blow over. Even if I don’t find a suitor here, there have been plenty of other scandals involving many more exciting people than the Pryor family since then.”
I hoped she was right. But I also knew her letters from Matilda always left Hattie with a longing for a home and family of her own.
I don’t know if it was the loneliness of only having her parents now, or if it was indeed the positive slant Matilda had put on even the most ruinous of marriages, but while we both used to approach marriage with an air of indifference, Hattie had shifted since her position in society had changed.
It was almost as if by having the possibility of marriage taken away, she’d discovered the appeal of it, and Matilda’s joy was a reminder of what she was missing.
“But it won’t hurt if you do find a suitor in the next few weeks, right?”
Hattie laughed. “True, it wouldn’t hurt. Especially when I know you and your mother put so much effort into inviting some very lovely men. Speaking of which . . . ” Hattie glanced toward the door. “Don’t you need to greet more guests?”
I shook my head. “Mama plans to introduce all of us at dinner. Let’s get ready. We should look our best for Mr. Howard and all the other men Mama has planned for us.”
“Planned for me, you mean,” she said with a frown. “I’m the one with the disastrous reputation.”
I pushed down the turmoil that sentence caused me and raised an eyebrow. This house party would remedy everything. “You won’t begrudge me toying with at least one of them, will you? I promise not to get too attached.”
“I won’t begrudge you marrying one this week, if that perfectly mediocre man you described ends up here.
But we both know it’s unlikely. I have never seen a man who was more interesting to you than a pistol or a horse.
You are at Blackwell. Men are nothing compared to the freedom your father allows you here. ”
“Are you certain?” I asked, leaning forward. “Because I have quite the tale to tell you, and it has nothing to do with pistols and horses.” I paused. “Well, it has a little to do with pistols and horses . . . ”
Hattie’s laugh echoed throughout the green room, and I relished the sound of it. I’d been nervous about this party, but she was right. We were in Derbyshire at our home estate. What better location to find her the perfect man?