Chapter Thirteen
All that night and the next day as Eve had slept in the carriage, her dreams had been filled with Duke, a warm, quiet kitchen, and a gentle embrace. And that kiss.
She’d worried that things would be awkward between her and Duke. Perhaps he now regretted the impulse, or maybe she’d been rubbish at kissing, and Duke was embarrassed for her. But he’d been busy with the preparations for departure and being the recipient of his grandmother’s complaints when they’d first departed, which had been ongoing when Eve had drifted off. Then Duke had been asleep when she’d been awake during the morning bit of their journey. And while she’d slept quite a lot after their lunchtime stop, he’d spent that bit of the journey reading a newspaper.
They weren’t interacting enough for her to even know if things were now uncomfortable. And she was a little too tired to try to sort it out.
When their supper arrived at the inn where they were breaking their journey that night, she hadn’t the energy to do more than push the food around her plate and focus on keeping her eyes open. She had worked hard in the kitchen the last two days, and that labor had exhausted her.
“I cannot blame Miss O’Doyle for merely picking at her meal,” Mrs. Seymour said. “The fare here is not as well prepared as what we had at that dilapidated inn we were holed up in.”
“How fortunate we were to have found such a skilled cook.” Duke spoke very solemnly, but when he looked at Eve, there was a laugh lurking in his eyes.
Her answering smile was more than just amusement. She was relieved. Their unforgettable kiss, the surprising impulse of a moment, hadn’t become a barrier. He could still joke with her, still turned to her with a light and happy demeanor.
“One thing I can blame Miss O’Doyle for, though,” Mrs. Seymour said, “is how little she helped at that inn. Miss Niamh worked tirelessly to set bedchambers to rights, often looking entirely done in by the effort. Dubhán carried trays of food and saw to the public room. They could have rested if they’d had more help.”
Eve quickly reminded herself that Mrs. Seymour hadn’t been told about the arrangement in the kitchen. Knowing how to expertly run a kitchen and prepare meals required years of having done so. A lady could sort out how to make a bed or stoke a fire without having repeatedly done the work of a chambermaid. Eve’s work would have revealed their situation to Mrs. Seymour. Nia’s didn’t. Eve’s work had to be kept secret. Nia’s didn’t. The lady didn’t have to be so judgmental, but she was coming at the topic from a place of ignorance.
“I assure you, Mrs. Seymour,” Eve said, “I worked quite hard as well. I didn’t see you because my duties were all on the ground floor.”
“What could possibly have kept you down there?” Mrs. Seymour scoffed. “Dubhán, I am certain, had everything well in hand.”
“There was a great deal to do, Grandmother,” Duke said. “And Miss O’Doyle worked every bit as hard as Miss Niamh and I did.”
“Then, you should have been able to spend more time with me,” Mrs. Seymour said. “It was nearly unbearable to pass endless hours all alone.”
“You could have joined us in the public room,” Duke said. “The Marlows were very good company.”
Mrs. Seymour sniffed, which Eve had come to know meant the older woman disagreed but didn’t want to continue discussing a topic. And in the next moment, she took up a new topic entirely. “I expect your father has abandoned me because I didn’t arrive at Epsom today as I was meant to.”
“He is likely confused, and I suspect he is concerned,” Duke said, “but I do not believe he will have simply tossed his hands up and returned home.”
“And if we reach the inn and he isn’t there?” Mrs. Seymour demanded. “What do you mean to do then, Dubhán?”
He means to attempt to escape all the burdens you and his parents place on him all the time.
Duke pushed his own half-eaten meal away. “If my father is not at the Wren and Badger, then we will continue on to Fairfield.”
Another sniff. Eve wouldn’t miss that sound when their paths diverged. She suspected Duke wouldn’t either, though his was too good a heart not to miss his grandmother. If only his grandmother appreciated him as she ought.
“Penelope certainly wouldn’t be happy about that.” Mrs. Seymour appeared already offended at a slight she had not yet received. “She, I am certain, would rather not see me again.”
“She has happily welcomed you to Fairfield in the past, Grandmother.”
“She has not been happy nor was I truly welcomed,” Mrs. Seymour said. “But she didn’t lock me out, so I suppose there is a bit of truth to your recounting of the past.”
Duke’s lips pressed into an almost indiscernible grimace even as his shoulders slumped a bit. He needed a rescue, and Eve knew just how to accomplish it.
“I must say, I am shocked to hear that Mr. Colm Greenberry, who seemed such an exemplary gentleman when we interacted with him in London, has such horrible parents.”
That immediately raised Mrs. Seymour’s hackles. In absolutely haughty tones, she said, “Colm is an exemplary gentleman, and his parents are not horrible.”
Eve pretended to be confused. “All I know of the Greenberrys is what you have said of them, Mrs. Seymour. And you have said nothing favorable.” She stood, necessitating that Duke stand as well. “If you wish people to think well of your family, you might consider speaking well of them, as most people will assume you are not an unreliable source of information on the subject.” She then addressed everyone as a whole. “I am still quite tired. I believe I will retire for the evening. Good night, all.”
And on that parting note, she made her way from the private dining room and up the stairs to the room set aside for her and Nia. As they hadn’t a lady’s maid to prepare the space for them, no candles were lit. Eve snatched one from a sconce in the corridor and brought it in with her. She lit the candles on the two bedside tables and atop the tallboy before returning the borrowed flame.
Inside the now dimly lit room once more, she closed the door. Only then did she realize she had been very nearly holding her breath. She released it all at once.
She likely shouldn’t have scolded Mrs. Seymour. Duke’s momentary reprieve from addressing his grandmother’s grumblings might very well now turn into an extended effort. But it had been so frustrating hearing him have to keep assuaging her every complaint, undertaking the verbal contortions needed to defend others in his family without offending her. The lengths he anticipated having to soon go in order to secure himself an escape were heartbreaking. She’d wanted to offer him a momentary respite now.
While she undertook the contortions necessary to undress herself—a feat only possible because her and Nia’s dresses and stays were specifically designed to be removed by the wearer—her thoughts returned yet again to the kitchen in the abandoned inn. How magical it had proven.
Duke had told her to be proud of her baking. He’d promised to defend her against the unkindness of the ton . He’d heard her worries and shown he could be trusted. He’d held her while she’d cried and promised her she wouldn’t be alone in her difficulties.
And then he’d kissed her. The same heart-stopping exhilaration she’d felt with the kiss washed over her now at the memory. He’d stood so close. He’d watched her so intently, with a warmth that had been more tense than soothing.
His deep, rich voice had pitched ever lower. And he’d whispered her Irish name as if it were a bit of poetry.
She closed her eyes and breathed. The sound of her name on his lips... She would never forget that. Not ever. And being kissed by Duke Seymour was equally unforgettable.
She tucked her feet under the blanket on the bed, sitting up with her book open on her lap. The candle on her bedside table offered just enough light to read, and the thoughts on her mind offered just enough distraction to require that she reread the same page over and over again.
She was still undertaking the futile effort when Nia arrived.
“You did the impossible, Eve,” Nia said.
Eve laid her ribbon in her book and closed it. “What impossible feat did I manage?”
“You left Mrs. Seymour speechless.”
Eve didn’t know if she ought to wince or applaud herself. “For how long?”
“Almost five minutes.”
Oh dear. “She was truly upset, then?”
“I think she was stunned more than upset. And once the five minutes of silence ended, she launched back into her litany of complaints. Duke insisted I save myself and run.”
“She ought to be more considerate of him,” Eve said.
Nia began the task of undressing. “Are you going to tell me what happened between the two of you?”
“What do you mean?”
“You and Duke look at each other as though the moon and stars hang in each other’s eyes.”
Eve hadn’t the first doubt she looked at him that way. She’d never been adept at tucking away her thoughts or feelings. But Duke was an expert at it. She didn’t know if she ought to feel flattered that he might be allowing some tenderness toward her to show or if this was an instance of Nia seeing more than was being revealed only because she knew Eve so well.
“I’m needing help with this.” Nia motioned to her gown. “I don’t know if I’m overly tired or if my mind has decided to live in a state of frustrating stupor, but I cannot seem to unfasten it tonight.”
Eve climbed out of bed, wrapped her knit shawl around her shoulders as a guard against the cold air, and crossed to her sister.
“The carriage rides have left me a bit stiff at the end of the day,” Nia said. “I ought to borrow Mrs. Seymour’s approach and be very vocally upset about it.”
“You should,” Eve said, making quick work of helping her sister slip free of her traveling dress. “Wait until you feel the sheets. They aren’t truly scratchy but neither are they as celestially soft as clouds; thus, you will have every right to be upset about them.”
“Perhaps Mrs. Seymour won’t grumble about the linens to her abigail tonight,” Nia said.
Nia and Eve soon had themselves tucked comfortably in for the night.
Nia, however, did not fall quickly to sleep. Lying on her pillow, looking quite tired, she took up the topic Eve thought she had managed to avoid. “What has you on such close terms with Duke?”
“I came to know him better while we were at the inn.”
“So did I,” Nia countered, adjusting her position with slow movements, apparently searching for a more comfortable position. “But there’s something different between the two of you.”
In an uncharacteristic bit of closed-lippedness, Eve didn’t offer to her sister all that had happened in the kitchen. She wasn’t ashamed of it, neither did she think Nia would run about spreading the tale in every willing ear. Eve wasn’t worried about a scandal or Nia laughing at her.
Explaining how she and Duke had grown close likely required revealing at least a little of what they’d talked about. Duke hadn’t given her leave to share his plans and worries. Her parents had required that she not share hers with Nia.
Ambiguity was likely her best approach. “I am not confirming anything you are hinting at, neither will I deny that I’ve grown very fond of Duke, very attached to him. But I am refusing to get my hopes up, both for the sake of not wishing to endanger the friendship I have with him and out of a desire not to break my own heart.”
“Allow yourself to hope, Eve. We may be poor, but even poor ladies are entitled to a few dreams.”
But so many of hers had very recently been whisked away. “I don’t mean to abandon the possibility entirely, but I think it would be wisest if I tiptoed toward this dream rather than leaping.”
Nia pulled the blanket more closely around herself. “Though you are holding your breath, worried that this tenderness growing between you and Duke will prove as insubstantial as dandelion fluff, I am entirely convinced that it won’t.”
With a grin, Eve said, “My dear sister, I sincerely hope your optimism proves more accurate than my caution.”
“So do I, Eve. So do I.”