Chapter Sixteen
All Hallow’s Eve Rout
Farmingworth House
Hanover Square
Mayfair, London
When Evan walked into Foxcroft’s drawing room with Hannah on his arm, pride welled in his chest, for she was gorgeous.
Last night, they’d stayed on his ship for hours, doing nothing more than talking about everything and nothing, truly.
They’d told stories from their pasts, revealed the things that made each of them feel unworthy, then theorized on how he should win back his title, but he hadn’t admitted that he had a duel scheduled for tonight at midnight.
When he’d escorted her home, it had been late, and was raining once more, so she’d invited him to stay over, which he accepted with enthusiasm, but instead of sleeping in one of the small rooms, he shared her bed.
It had been one of the most satisfying experiences he’d had, which was odd, for it had nothing to do with carnal play.
Had he kissed the hell out of her at some point?
Of course, he was only a man, after all, but that slower pace had caught him by surprise and made him want things he had no business—or freedom—to desire.
Yet here he was, leading her into the drawing room of a friend, and she was stunning in a gown of red stamped silk shot through with delicate golden thread.
Somehow, her maid had threaded gold satin ribbon into her upswept auburn hair.
In the candlelight and illumination from the cheerful fire dancing behind an ornate metal frame, her tresses were burnished copper, and her gray eyes sparkled like the finest gems.
“Unless I miss my guess, you adore being out in society for all you protest it,” he whispered against the shell of her ear.
The hint of a blush went through her cheeks. She turned her head and peered up at him. “I rather think it’s the company I’ve been keeping. Perhaps I can endure anything—even society—if you are with me.”
Despite his resolve not to become too attached to her, the feelings he’d become aware of having for her a couple of days ago only strengthened.
A piece of his heart flew into her keeping, but it was folly to think they could have a future together.
Hell, there was even the thought in his head of perhaps having another child with her if that was possible.
Of course, he would enjoy the trying.
“You are far too kind, Miss Ulrich.” Too damned bad that they were in a public setting.
Otherwise, he kiss her senseless then claim her body against the nearest wall.
“But I appreciate the sentiment.” When he glanced across the room, Foxcroft was gesturing to him.
He nodded and raised a hand in acknowledgement.
“Do you wish to be introduced to Foxcroft and some of my other friends?”
“Not immediately, though I have spoken to him in passing before.” She squeezed her fingers on his sleeve.
“I’m being frantically waved at by his sister, Lady Catherine, so she probably has some juicy gossip that needs conveyed immediately.
” A surprising laugh escaped her, and he would do many horrible things in order to hear that sound again. “Shall we meet again in an hour?”
“Wild horses couldn’t keep me away.” Evan nodded.
“I shall come collect you, and then you can introduce me to your friend, and I’ll do the same for you.
” That would give him the time he needed to seek his friends’ counsel on what the hell he should do with his suddenly complicated life. “Dance a waltz with me later?”
Amusement flitted through her expression. “I suppose if one is offered, but I’m hardly the woman to lead out in front of society. I am only your mistress.”
He snorted. “As if I care for that.” In fact, he felt far too authentic in her company, as if he could be the man he always was meant to be without hesitation or regret.
Sadness had returned to the depths of her eyes. “You should, for you’ll need to present a decent reputation if you can’t do sterling. When you’re a duke, you’ll want to marry a darling of the ton and have your heir.”
“Bah.” Knots of dread pulled in his gut. “Tonight, I’m here with you. That’s all I need in the moment.” It was the truth.
“Oh, Evan.” Though tears welled in her eyes, there was no mistaking the heat in those gray depths. “We are already flirting with disaster.”
He raised her hand to his lips. “Doesn’t all flirting end in disaster of some sort?”
The smile she graced him with could have rivaled the candlelight. “Rogue.”
“Perhaps, but tonight’s rout is hosted by a disreputable duke. None of us here have sterling reputations, and perhaps that is the point.” Then he winked. “Save me a dance, Anna.”
“I will.” For the space of a few heartbeats, she searched his face with her gaze. Finally, she nodded. “In the interim, behave yourself, especially if you see James. You are better than whatever you wish to do.”
Was he, though? Being in London for over a week didn’t immediately make him a good or decent man. His past was long and trailing. No doubt he was more like that than a duke. “I’m truly not, but thank you for the confidence.”
Then they parted, she for her friend, and he moved to far side of the room where Foxcroft stood with Thornton and Ravenhurst.
With a grin, he swept the other two with his gaze. “Where are your wives?”
Ravenhurst shrugged. “Mingling?”
Thornton readjusted his grip on the can. “Gossiping?” The blond man focused on Evan’s face. “Who is the lovely woman you’ve brought tonight?”
Heat crept up the back of his neck. “Miss Hannah Ulrich.” He didn’t divulge the name she usually went under or her position
Of course they already knew, for one of Ravenhurst’s black eyebrows rose in surprise. “Your mistress?”
As the other two dukes stared intently at him, Evan nodded. What else could he do? “Yes. Over the past week or so, we have reconnected on many levels.”
“I’ll wager you have,” Foxcroft said with a cheeky grin as the others laughed. “She is quite easy on the eyes. A man could easily lose himself fucking her.”
While the two other dukes chuckled, Evan curled his hands into fists. “Watch your words, Foxcroft. She is not an object to be leered at.” A quick glance about the room reassured him that Hannah wasn’t looking in his direction.
Identical expressions of surprise lay stamped on his friends’ faces.
Thornton narrowed his gaze. “The possession and jealousy are not warranted in this situation, Buckthorne. Unless you have reason to be such?”
“What are you trying to say, Thornton?” He didn’t have time to deeply analyze his emotions or order his thoughts, except for the last couple of days, he’d spent copious amounts of time doing just that.
The other man lowered his voice even though the sounds of conversation and laughter in the room were quite loud. “Do you, perhaps, have feelings for this woman that go beyond a mere mistress?”
“What does it matter? I can’t marry her. I can’t have a proper life with her once I become a duke.” Cold despair pooled in the pit of his stomach. “The whole thing is impossible.”
Foxcroft glanced among them before focusing on Evan. “Let me ask you this, then. Are you quite certain you wish to claim the title of the new Duke of Bettington?”
All three of his friends peered intently at him.
The heat on Evan’s neck renewed itself. “I don’t know,” he finally admitted in a choked whisper.
Then, feeling particularly maudlin, he told them about the babe he hadn’t known he’d had, how she’d lived, how she’d died, the letters he’d found, the confrontation of Hannah with the news, how they’d grieved together, how he suddenly wanted more from life than what fate was currently giving him.
“God, Buckthorne, that is quite a lot to take in merely a week’s time,” Ravenhurst said, but there was compassion in his gaze. “I’m dreadfully sorry about your daughter’s death. No one should outlive their children.”
“Thank you.” It took a moment to gather himself and control his emotions.
“As you can see, I desperately need advice.” Then he admitted to challenging his half-brother to a duel at midnight.
“It was done in a moment of madness and anger. I can’t call off without losing face, and my credibility in gaining the duke’s title will be in jeopardy. ”
Thornton nodded. “All this is true, but you’ll need to search your own soul to discover what it is you truly want. Unless you are killed in the duel, of course.”
“That is a possibility. I’ve heard the earl is a crack shot.” Foxcroft nodded. “You are standing at a crossroads. It’s someplace I hope to God I never find myself at, because I’m certain I would choose duty and responsibility over the fickleness of love.”
“Love?” Evan frowned. Was this what he struggled with and why it made everything else twelve times more difficult? And surely, he could best James in a duel. He hadn’t been in the Navy and a privateer for nothing. “I’m not…”
Ravenhurst chuckled. “Perhaps we should go down to the study for a few moments and discuss these matters in private.”
“Perhaps that is best, and God knows I need a shot of whiskey.” What the hell was he going to do?
Everything he’d ever wanted, everything he’d known about his life, was waiting for him once he removed James from the equitation.
So why did he feel it all paled when he looked at the rest of what his future might give if he had the chance?
Sometime later
By the time the conversation and planning ended in Foxcroft’s study, Evan had a clearer picture of what he wanted to do with his immediate future. Had he made a definitive decision? Not yet, but he looked forward to seeing where the next few days might lead.
When he popped into the drawing room, it was to find that the dancing portion of the evening had been underway for an hour, and he anxiously wanted to find Hannah. Since their modified waltz from last night, he’d hungered for more, and he couldn’t wait another moment to have her in his arms.