Chapter Twenty-Four
Oh no, oh no, oh no. Father and Mama had arrived, along with Aunt Lou. She needed to get Aunt Lou alone to find out why.
She paced the kitchen, wringing her hands, a new habit she’d formed in the last day since her second cousin had given her an ultimatum. His presence could escalate matters about the marriage contract.
Closing her eyes, she inhaled a huge breath and let it out slowly.
She wanted Xander. He seemed to like her as a person, title aside.
If they could get past her minor deception, they could marry quite soon.
If he refused, she was not sure what she would do.
One thing was certain. She would not allow her family to hold him to the contract against his wishes.
They were far enough from London that any compromising circumstances never need come to light, and she was still chaste, much to her chagrin and not for lack of trying.
An upstairs maid stepped into the kitchen. “Where are the guests?”
The girl looked askance at being questioned by a peer but answered in a mild tone. “His Grace offered them rooms, they accepted, and they are upstairs settling in before reconvening for tea when the marquess and duke return.”
“Please, which rooms?” Evie asked.
“The front ones, so they are around the corner of the hall from the male guests.”
“Aun—Mrs. Mullen, also?”
“Yes. Apparently she is family to the Countess of Craven, so although she is local she wanted to stay.”
“Good.” Evie started out of the kitchen but turned back. “Ah, ta.”
She raced up the back stairs to Aunt Lou’s room. Even before placing knuckles to wood, her aunt wrenched the door open and yanked her inside.
Evie threw herself into her aunt’s arms. “Aunt Lou, ’tis so good to see you.”
“And you as well. Hard work has not gotten the better of you, I see. How has your time here been? Your note was fractured…” her aunt’s voice trailed off and pink rose in her cheeks.
“And interrupted. Don’t think we won’t speak of that,” Evie said through laughter. “Later, though. I thought I asked for more time?”
“No. You ended with ‘I need,’ rather abruptly, I’m afraid. Whilst I won’t apologize for what I do in the privacy of my home in my free time, I will say that the timing was rather unfortunate. I had to guess at what you needed, and the safer guess was bringing your parents here as soon as possible.”
“Oh.” Evie sagged. “I hadn’t quite told him yet. And the Marquess of Hollibrook is here and recognized me as well. Auntie, I want Xander desperately. But I worry he shall be angry.”
Louisa nodded. “He likely will. We talked about all of this when we decided on the plan. Anger will happen in a marriage from time to time. ’Tis how he resolves it that is important.”
“I suppose.”
“I cannot wait to hear about your time here. But for now, tell me. Do you love him?”
Evie sighed, smiling. “I thought I needed to speak to you about it, as I’ve never been in love.
Honestly, though, I am quite sure. I am absolutely in love with him.
More than London, more than influence in Parliament, more than caring that he is rough around the edges and may never wear a cravat for more than an hour. More than marriage.”
“I’m so happy for you, my dear. That makes the stakes even higher, though. I hope he does not turn you out for lying,” her aunt replied, tugging Evie toward the seating area by the fire.
“Well, yes, there is that.” Evie stopped her aunt, who turned around to face her. Squeezing her hand, Evie begged, “Please, help me. What do I do?”
Louisa sighed. “I think we need your mother for this.”
“She’ll be furious.” Evie grimaced.
“Yes. But she’ll be on your side. She wants what is best for you. So she may berate you in private, but she’ll champion you in public,” Louisa said, patting her hand.
“First, though, I must find a way to tell Xander myself. I don’t want him to hear it from an irate father or cousin or something.”
“You’d best find him quickly then. Your mother will turn this house upside down looking for you if you don’t show yourself soon—as Lady Evelyn.”
“You have a few of my things with you?” At Lou’s nod, Evie sighed. “Right. I’ll go find my duke. Wish me luck.”
* * * *
His lordship was in the library as always.
Perhaps they should have some of their conversations around House of Lords decisions elsewhere.
Otherwise, he might always associate this room with work.
And it was a lovely room. Evie eyed the settee where he’d first introduced her to pleasure. A lovely room.
Focus, Evie. Stop procrastinating.
Xander looked up and saw her hovering in the doorway. At his welcoming smile, she sighed. Heavens, he was handsome. Still searching for words, she inched closer.
Forestalling anything she might say, he asked, “Is one of my latest guests a relation of yours, perhaps? You share a surname.”
“Yes, actually.” Evie answered honestly, although she knew he likely referred to Louisa Mullen, whose name she’d borrowed, rather than her mother.
“Oh? She’s the sister of the Countess of Craven. Do they have another sister, and does she live near here? Should I invite her to visit?”
Her heart melted. He wanted her family to have a chance to visit with each other and her—a servant as far as he knew. Her Xander was truly a good man. Hands twisting and heart breaking, she slid her chin side to side, forming a negative response. “No other sister.”
He frowned. “Then how can she be your aunt?”
“Xander.” His brows shot up at her use of his given name, something she’d only done a handful of times and only in bed when she forgot herself. “Please. I did all this with the best of intentions. For both of us—well, mostly for me, but anyway. I lied to you about my last name.”
He was frowning now. “Why?”
Evie opened her mouth to respond, but her mother’s voice echoed in the hall. “Evie? You, there. My sister told me that Evie was staying here, but no one knows of a guest named Evelyn.”
Rogers murmured something Evie couldn’t hear. Her breaking heart threatened to beat out of her chest, yet she was frozen, unable to form the words she needed to warn Xander.
“Well, then, where is the duke, please? I need to understand what is going on here.”
Evie heaved a sigh, resigned. She’d done this to herself, waiting too long before confessing. She stood and faced the doorway, waiting for the inevitable.
Rogers appeared, likely to tell the duke that the countess wished for an audience, but Evie’s mother pushed past him. “Evie! There you—whatever are you wearing?”
Flashing a side glance at Xander, Evie stepped forward to hug her mother. “Mama. I’ve missed you. And I have a lot to tell you and the duke. Might we get tea please, Rogers?”
He nodded as though she’d been a visiting lady all along and reversed his direction to inform the kitchen.
Xander stood behind his desk, eyes flicking between her and her mother.
“My lord, would you join us by the fireplace?” She gestured to the seating area.
He raised his brows already having learned that even an earl’s daughter shouldn’t be directing a duke, much less in his own home.
But he acquiesced, coming around the desk and choosing a chair. His expression was unreadable, as though he had erected a wall between them. Her heart ached at the idea.
The ladies perched on the settee. Evie’s backbone snapped extra-straight, not touching the back of the sofa, just as a lady would in any drawing room she visited. It was as though she’d always been here as herself in an alternate reality. Or else this was a dream.
A footman brought in the tea tray. As if it was the most natural thing in the world, Evie said, “Thank you. I’ll pour.”
Her mother snatched the annoying cap off Evie’s head and breathed a sigh of relief. “Lud, your hair is too tight, you’ll give yourself a headache. But I was afraid you’d cut it all off or something. Now, please, someone tell me what is going on here.”
“Yes, I’d like to know as well.” Xander spoke for the first time since her mother’s appearance, his voice a rumble through tight lips.
Evie handed them their cups and saucers and left hers down. Fisting her hands in her servant’s garb, she took a deep breath and started. “My lord, as you may have guessed by now, my name is Evelyn Allen. This is my mother, and Louisa, who lives in the village, is my aunt.”
Her mother narrowed her eyes and muttered, “I’d wager LouLou had something to do with this, too.”
Evie hastened to add, “Mother, this was my idea. Please don’t blame Aunt Louisa or the duke. He hired me as a servant and has treated me—and all his staff—very well.”
“You’re here without a chaperone! That is not treating you with the respect you deserve.”
“He didn’t know.”
Xander opened his mouth to say something, but she sent him a pleading glance. Glaring at her, he subsided.
“He had no idea. I did this because I was young and stupid when I asked for the betrothal to the previous duke but regretted it when I discovered his Tory leanings. And yes, I know Papa has a few, but he listens to you and is fair, at least most of the time. That is what I want in a marriage, and Xand—his lordship was a complete unknown. I needed to see where his politics lay.”
“So you came here as a maid?” Her mother screeched the question at a near-shout.
Evie saw Xander grimace at her mother’s tone, but she’d expected it. Ignoring the escalating volume, she answered in what she hoped were calming tones. “Yes. It’s honest work. I’ve learned a lot that I’ll share with you for your household.”
“And?” Her mother cast a look at Xander, her voice closer to normal again.
Xander was done waiting at that point. He bit out, “So you’re telling me you lied to me about your identity and were spying on me in my own house?”
“Yes.” Evie bowed her head for a moment.
“I apologize, my lord. Women have very little say in their decisions which affect their world, and I hoped to at least influence who I was to spend the rest of my life with. You must understand a little, no? You’ve voiced how appalled you are at some of the bills that Parliament passes that burden the working class, without giving them a choice. ”
He glared again. “They are open about it. They don’t sneak around and spy on people in their own homes.
And anyway, they’re nobs. I expect it of them.
Which I suppose fits this situation as well.
” The last sentence was said through a sneer.
He turned to her mother. “’Tis good you are here, Madam.
I don’t know if you received my invitation, but I wanted to tell you that I am unable to honor the marriage contract with your daughter.
I shall work out the particulars with your husband later. Now, if you’ll excuse me—”
Without finishing his excuse or waiting for an answer, he stood and walked out of the room.
Evie wanted to run after him, to beg and cry, but she knew Xander often needed time to process conundrums. And she’d created an enormous tangle.
Guilt wilted her stiff posture, and she sniffed, reaching for a handkerchief she didn’t carry in her maid’s uniform.
Grabbing her mobcap, she swiped at her tears with it and avoided her mother’s angry gaze.
She had counted on Xander being angry but forgiving her, certain he felt as she did. She’d seen a future of her helping him with correspondence, him teaching her even more in the bedroom. He hadn’t even taken an hour to consider her reasons for the deception, refusing the marriage outright.
Now what?