Chapter 34
Evangeline felt every one of her fifty-two years in the days following The Debacle.
She waited, sleepless with anxiety, for news.
She heard nothing from George, let alone from Marion or Joan.
Every morning she sent her groom into London with orders to buy every newspaper and gossip rag he could locate, and she read every one of them from front to back.
For a few days there was ominous silence, then a small announcement of the wedding of Miss Joan Bennet to Viscount Burke.
That eased her most crippling fear, that she’d been entirely wrong about the viscount, but as the days dragged on and still no letter came from her brother, or his wife, or Joan herself, she realized her other fear had been well-founded.
Joan had been rushed into marriage because of the scandal, and they blamed Evangeline. It was a hard blow, even though she knew it was deserved.
That week, Wyndham House might as well have been a mausoleum.
She couldn’t summon the energy or will to go outside, not into the garden where she and Richard had sat so many times together, nor to the bathhouse where he’d made love to her in the steam and heat.
It was all she could do to walk from her bed to the table, to the sofa in the drawing room, and back to bed.
Deprived of his usual walks, Louis added to the misery by being anxious and troublesome.
Evangeline walked in on Solly scolding the little dog, who was replying with sharp, angry barks of his own.
“What’s he done?”
Solly held up the shredded remains of a straw bonnet. “He has destroyed it. I left it out to replace the ribbon, and I return to find it so.”
Louis darted up to Evangeline’s feet and licked her ankle, whimpering.
She sighed, stooping to pet the dog. “My poor pup,” she murmured. “I’m making you miserable, too.”
Louis licked her hand frantically, dancing back and forth.
“Why don’t you take him out?” urged Solly. “Fresh air would do you both good.”
Evangeline stood and glanced listlessly at the window. It was a fair day, but she had no desire to feel the sun on her face. “Perhaps.”
Solly nodded. “I will bring tea to the garden. And a biscuit for you, Your Majesty,” she added to Louis, who had perked up at the word garden. He barked and ran from the room. “Do it for him,” she said gently to Evangeline. “If you will not go out for yourself.”
She sighed. “Very well.”
She chose a bench facing the house, not her favorite set by the French doors, where Richard had once walked her home in the rain and agreed to her terms for their affair.
She had all but told him then that one day she would end it and send him away.
She had forced him to promise that he would accept it, and now he had kept his word and gone.
Her throat felt tight and she determinedly faced the other way, trying not to think of those giddy days when they couldn’t get enough of each other, when she had suspected, deep in her heart, that she’d found something rare and precious at last.
Solly came out with a tea tray and set it down. “You have a caller. Shall I show her out here?”
“No,” said Evangeline. She had avoided Fanny since returning to Chelsea, and wasn’t about to stop now. Three times Fanny had sent a note, and three times Evangeline had sent it back unopened.
“It is Lady Burke,” said Solly quietly.
Evangeline froze, then lurched to her feet. “Is she—?”
“She looks perfectly well, and she is alone.” Solly waited, brows arched.
Heart in her throat, Evangeline stepped past her and started toward the house, her steps growing faster until she was almost running, Louis at her heels.
Joan was standing in the drawing room when Evangeline burst in. “Joan,” she said, and then could say no more.
“Aunt Evangeline!” Her face glowing, Joan turned toward her. She looked very elegant, in a rose pelisse that flattered her complexion. “What a lovely home you have! I’ve always wanted to see it.” She bit her lip. “I hope it’s not too presumptuous of me to call without asking?”
Evangeline shook her head. “No,” she managed to get out. “Of course not.” She hesitated. “Won’t you sit down?”
Joan took Richard’s usual chair. Evangeline’s nerves twinged as she perched gingerly on the sofa. “Are you well?” she asked cautiously.
Her niece blushed. “Yes. Very well. Exceedingly well, if I’m to be honest. I—I hoped to see you at my wedding.”
She hadn’t been invited, and had known better than to ask. “It didn’t seem proper,” she said with an attempt at a smile.
Joan looked dismayed. “I feared as much,” she said to herself, then moved to the edge of her chair.
“Now that I am married, I can go where I want and visit whom I like, and tell you anything I please, no matter what my parents think. And I want to tell you, Aunt, that I am very grateful for all your help. I know I behaved badly and caused you grief, and for that I am terribly sorry.”
She held up one hand. “I was supposed to keep you safe, and instead you were caught up in a scandal. I should never have allowed that to happen. I am at fault.”
Joan shook her head impatiently. “No, Aunt. It was my choice that night to go off with Tristan. I—I knew it was wrong, and could cause trouble, and I did it anyway.”
“No, dear,” said Evangeline with a despairing laugh. “You couldn’t have known what he meant to—to entice you into doing—”
Joan’s face went blank, then fiery red. “Oh,” she said in a higher-pitched voice.
“Oh, you—you mean—? Oh, but, Aunt Evangeline, I did know—” She stopped suddenly, with a guilty glance at the door.
“There’s a marvelous little book called 50 Ways to Sin, have you heard of it?
” she whispered in a rush, her eyes shining with excitement.
“It’s all the rage with ladies of the ton, and it is far more educational than anything in Ackermann’s!
Oh my goodness, and I didn’t think it could all be true, but now I rather think it might be! ”
Evangeline’s brows shot up. She’d heard of that naughty little book, but how had Joan, an innocent, proper young lady—?
“Well! The important point is that I love Tristan, and I wanted him, and I am not sorry for anything we did,” Joan went on in a brisker tone, though her color was still high. “But I took advantage of your trust, and I must apologize to you for that. It was thoughtless and deceitful.”
“Joan,” she whispered, guilt-stricken once more, but her niece held up a hand.
“You gave me a great gift.” Joan’s smile trembled. “You taught me to believe in myself and to know my own heart. You helped me to feel almost beautiful—”
“You are beautiful!”
“—and you weren’t disapproving of Tristan.
You were kind to him, and welcoming. He told me that he wished his own aunt had been half so kindly disposed toward him.
” She paused, chewing her lower lip. “He grew up so unloved and unwanted. He’s not a scoundrel at heart, he just had no one he loved and trusted to inspire him.
He appreciates your kindness to him and wishes me to express to you his deep regret that he also disappointed you, at the Brentwood ball. ”
She shook her head. “None of it would have happened if I had not—”
When she stopped, unable to say Richard’s name, Joan gave a tentative smile. “Well, I am not sorry that I’m married to Tristan. And that is largely due to the confidence and encouragement you gave me. I will be forever grateful to you for that.”
Evangeline let out her breath. “It delights me beyond words to hear it. I wish you and Burke every happiness, my dear.”
Glowing again, Joan nodded. “I think we shall be happy. He does love me. You were right about that. He had the most difficult time admitting it, but once I told him that I love him, he told me—he said he hadn’t much experience at being loved, but that he’s absolutely mad for me.
Which suits me perfectly, because”—her face was bright pink now as she lowered her voice—“I really am out of my head for him. He showed me things I didn’t think a man could—” She stopped abruptly.
“Well, we’re both very, very happy things have turned out this way. ”
Evangeline’s heart gave a hard throb. “That brings me more joy than you can imagine, my dear.”
Joan beamed. “Might I ask a favor of you?”
“Of course!” Her lips trembled in a shaky smile. “Anything.”
Joan blushed again. “Would you convey our apologies to Sir Richard as well? I don’t have the nerve to call upon him myself, and Tristan said he won’t go near . . .” She paused. “I believe Sir Richard threatened to shoot him, and he’s not inclined to risk it.”
And again she could barely breathe. “Alas,” she said with a strained smile. “Sir Richard and I are . . . Well, I don’t expect to see him again.”
Joan’s face blanked. “Oh no! Why? Not—not because of us?”
Evangeline flipped one hand and tried to speak lightly. “No, no, don’t concern yourself with it.”
Dismay filled her niece’s expression. “Oh, Aunt. No! You mustn’t blame him for my actions!”
“Don’t be silly,” she tried to reply, but her voice cracked.
Joan jumped up. “It was my fault. It’s because of the dance, isn’t it?
I didn’t know what Tristan would propose, when I encouraged you to dance with Sir Richard, but I did want you to be happy.
And Sir Richard had no idea I would be so impulsive and foolish!
He is desperately in love with you, and I .
. .” She bit her lip, looking as if she might cry.
“I only thought you deserved a man who loves you. I still think it—even more so!—after hearing how dreadful Cunningham and Courtenay were. Oh, please don’t say that I’ve ruined your happiness, when you have helped me to find mine! ”
She stood and took Joan’s hands in hers. “Nonsense. Nothing of the sort.” She hesitated. “I know you meant no harm. I truly do. Things are . . . complicated, between Sir Richard and me. Don’t blame yourself for my little frets.”
Joan’s eyes were wet, but she gripped Evangeline’s hands fiercely. “It is not a little fret. I shall never forget how certain I was that I would never find someone who loved me, someone I could love with my entire heart and soul.”
“But you have.” She squeezed Joan’s hands and forced a smile. “To my immense joy.”
“And so have you,” replied Joan, her chin set stubbornly. “I know you have. I saw you with him, and I saw his face when he spoke of you. He adores you, Aunt Evangeline.”
Evangeline raised her eyes to the ceiling to stop the moisture in her own eyes from becoming tears. She disengaged her hands and turned away, touching her hair to hide her face. “As romantic as it sounds, that isn’t always enough to sweep aside every obstacle.”
Joan came around to face her again. “But it is significant enough that you shouldn’t be so quick to discard it.”
“My dear, please don’t trouble yourself—”
“Don’t say I am too young to understand.
” Joan hesitated. “I stood for years at the side of every ballroom and drawing room, knowing that no man there cared to speak to me or dance with me, let alone marry me. When you asked if we were trying to bring Tristan up to scratch, I denied it because I didn’t think it was possible, for me .
. . with him. But I wanted it to be true, even then.
In fact, I—I think that alone made me so rash.
It seemed like a dream, when Tristan said he wanted to—” She blushed scarlet.
“And he was reckless, too, but he’s a man and mistakes don’t hurt men as much, even though he also didn’t mean to cause trouble.
He told me that he meant to ask Papa for my hand in marriage even before we— Well.
He didn’t know how it would go wrong.” She searched Evangeline’s face.
“Is it possible,” she asked hesitantly, “that Sir Richard was the same? You and Mama told me things are different for a woman . . .”
Evangeline held up one hand to stop her. “Yes. It always is.”
Her niece’s face cleared, misunderstanding. “Then you can forgive him,” she said. “If you can forgive me, who did far worse, you must see that he deserves forgiveness, too.”
Evangeline couldn’t speak, but she made herself smile.
It felt stiff and unnatural, but it seemed to reassure Joan.
She walked with Evangeline to the door. Outside a handsome carriage waited, gleaming black with red wheels.
It would be Burke’s, of course, not George’s.
Burke, who had not objected to Joan coming to see the wicked Lady Courtenay.
Who made her niece radiant with happiness. Who sent his own apologies.
Joan paused to embrace her one last time. “Give Sir Richard another chance,” she whispered. “To make me feel better, if not for yourself, even though I think it will be tremendously good for you, too. Will you?”
Evangeline made herself smile, without nodding. That seemed to be enough for Joan. She gave Evangeline a smile, then hurried to her carriage and was helped in by the waiting footman.
Evangeline lifted her hand in good-bye as the carriage drove off, Joan leaning out the window and waving back, still beaming.
Her heart gave a little sigh. She’d thought, several weeks ago, that young Burke had all the hallmarks of a promising husband.
It was reassuring that she hadn’t been completely wrong about that.
But Richard . . . Oh, Richard. She could hardly bear to think of what she had said to him.
Once again, she had ruined everything.