Chapter 28
After a week, Evelina emerged from the nest of bedlinens and was finally able to see what her staff had done to make the house brighter and lighter.
She smiled, satisfied. It was not a moment too soon either, for a brief glimpse out the window in the drawing room confirmed that the Corset Chronicles Club had arrived.
Evelina settled on her favorite sofa and waited. Her sister Theodora entered first, and Evelina stood to greet her, enveloping her sister in a warm embrace. “How are you?” Evelina asked.
Theodora’s eyes shined in amusement. “I should be asking you that,” she said. “My newly married sister.”
Rosalind and Maria entered next. Evelina craned her neck to see past them, searching for Anne; however, it seemed that their last member was absent.
“How is Anne?” Evelina asked as she hugged Maria.
“Fine,” Maria said. “She wanted to come, but she is feeling a little ill this morning.”
Evelina furrowed her brow. “Is it bad?”
“Oh no!” Maria exclaimed. “It is the usual symptoms which accompany her condition. It is nothing serious.”
The women all settled around the room. Theodora and Evelina sat together on the sofa, while Maria and Rosalind occupied the room’s two chairs. “So,” Theodora said, grinning slyly. “How is married life?”
Evelina sighed, warmth flooding her face. She had anticipated that her friends would want to know how her plan was working, and a rush of embarrassment swept over her when she thought about telling her friends and sister that her plan had not yet even come to fruition.
She had been ill for the past week, of course, but if she had managed to consummate the marriage on the first night, she might already have a baby growing inside her.
A lump lodged in Evelina’s throat. What if she couldn’t bring herself to have congress with him?
Stephan had been kind thus far, but the man’s situation was desperate.
He must have some eventual end to his patience.
“Well,” Evelina said. “Regrettably, Stephan and I have not yet been able to produce an heir.”
Theodora and Maria exchanged puzzled looks. Rosalind looked away, color rising to her cheeks. At least, Evelina was not the only one who was embarrassed by this conversation.
“Do you mean that you have not yet consummated the marriage?” Maria asked, sounding as if she was choosing her words quite delicately.
“We have not,” said Evelina, sighing.
Theodora inhaled sharply. “Oh!”
Maria placed a hand over her mouth. “I—I see.”
Rosalind’s eyes widened. “But…” the young woman trailed off, her flush deepening to scarlet. “Is an heir no longer important to you? I thought that was your entire reason for choosing to marry His Grace.”
Evelina folded her hands together in her lap. “No,” she said. “It is still important to me. I have been ill for the past week, so we have been unable to consummate. But we will soon.”
“You have very little time, though,” Maria said. “A year, wasn’t it?”
“Ten months.” Evelina paused, mentally calculating the days. “Nine months and two weeks, I suppose.”
Rosalind furrowed her brow. “Is that sufficient time?”
“Yes,” Evelina said.
Theodora opened her mouth, likely to protest, but she seemed to decide against it. Instead, she leaned against the arm of the sofa and pursed her lips together.
“I am unconcerned with having to wait a couple of weeks to have an heir,” Evelina said. “Stephan is fine with us needing a little more time as well.”
At least, he said that he was. Evelina could not deny that a tiny spark of doubt burned inside her chest. Was her husband at that moment growing impatient with her? Was he regretting their choice to marry?
If she could not produce his heir, she wondered what his recourse would be.
Would he choose to have their marriage annulled, as if it had never happened?
That would not be the end of Evelina’s plans.
If her husband decided that he no longer desired her, she could try her initial plan again, of finding a man of no rank or wealth and of using him to produce a child.
The thought that he might abandon her stung, though.
Her Grace’s cruel words rang in Evelina’s mind, mocking her with the possibility.
Evelina was uncertain that her pride would survive such an injury if Stephan truly did choose to leave her.
Worse, she would not even be able to blame him for it.
He desperately needed an heir, and she had promised to give him one.
“It is an unusual situation,” Maria said suddenly. “That clause about needing an heir so quickly is so strange!”
Evelina frowned, remembering how Mrs. Newbury had described the late Duke of Rothbury and everything she had heard about him. The picture she painted was of a generous and flawed man, one who lost himself to grief but who genuinely loved his son.
“It is strange,” Evelina mused. “Given how fond the late duke was of Stephan, I find it difficult to understand why he would place such a strict stipulation on Stephan inheriting the dukedom. Even if an heir is necessary, why only afford Stephan a year?”
“Perhaps, the late duke’s solicitor can offer some insight?” Rosalind suggested.
“Perhaps,” Evelina said, sighing. “Last week, Stephan visited his solicitor to ensure that everything was properly settled.”
“And is it?” Theodora asked. “If not, perhaps Alexander can be of assistance.”
Evelina shook her head. “I sent word to my own solicitor. He will arrive in an hour to discuss the matter with me, and I will ask him about it. Perhaps, I am being overly cautious, but I think it is best to proceed with caution.”
Doubtlessly, the Dowager Duchess of Rothbury would be exceedingly careful. Evelina would not let herself be bested by a little clever wording in a contract.
“Good,” Theodora said, smiling. “I am relieved to hear that. Of course, I know that you are clever, but I still worry about you.”
Evelina’s heart swelled with love for her sister. “I know, but I promise everything will be fine. Now, I have been sick for this past week and starved for companionship. Let’s speak about something happier.”
* * *
The Corset Chronicles Club concluded their meeting precisely fifteen minutes before Evelina’s solicitor arrived.
While Evelina had used the services of several solicitors over the years, she most often called upon Christopher Black.
He was a young man, but he was reliable and clever.
Most pertinently, he did not condescend to her for being a woman.
He respected her intelligence and took her quite seriously.
At present, he was seated across from her, listening intently while she detailed Her Grace’s visit.
When she was finished, Mr. Black looked thoughtful and leafed through the stack of papers he had brought with him.
“There is something to what the Dowager Duchess of Rothbury has said,” Mr. Black said.
“Because she has been made a trustee of the dukedom, she could—indeed—refuse to give you an allowance and the house if you fail to produce an heir.”
Evelina furrowed her brow. “But I would have my own money, wouldn’t I? From my marriage to the Earl of Thornwall?”
“You would,” he said. “I have made certain of that, and I am confident that the agreement is iron-clad in that regard.”
Evelina hummed. “That is a relief,” she said.
Mr. Black smiled wryly. “I would not leave you unable to live comfortably; I assure you of that, Your Grace.”
“I know you would not,” Evelina said, “but Her Grace presents a clever and determined foe. I cannot keep from worrying about what she might try.”
“That is understandable,” Mr. Black said. “Given what I have heard of the Dowager Duchess of Rothbury, you are right to be wary, Your Grace.”
Evelina furrowed her brow. “Something occurred to me today. I do not suppose you knew the late duke?”
Mr. Black smiled ruefully. “I never had the pleasure, Your Grace.”
“Nor did I,” Evelina said. “However, I have heard that he was a kind, but fragile man. After his wife died, it seems as though he lost himself to grief. But I have heard that he loved his son, my husband, very much.”
Mr. Black nodded, his brow furrowed with thought. “What are you thinking, Your Grace?”
“I find it strange that a man like that would place such an absurd clause in the contract,” Evelina said.
Mr. Black shrugged. “I am uncertain what to say, Your Grace. It is a strange clause; I will grant you that. However, it is in the contract. Your husband only has a year to produce an heir.”
“Right,” Evelina said. “Is there no way to escape that clause? If my husband and I cannot produce this heir, will we have any recourse?”
“None that I can see,” Mr. Black said. “The contract is frustratingly clear in that regard.”
Evelina frowned and glanced out the window, her gaze sweeping over the gardens.
Her husband would be home in a few hours.
Tonight, they had to consummate the marriage.
If there was no chance for a reprieve or recourse, they must try to produce an heir and soon.
And often. Evelina bit the inside of her cheek.
Her body warmed when she thought of being in bed with her husband.
She was half anticipation and half panic, uncertain if she would manage to do what must be done.
Mr. Black made an odd sound, as though he was stifling a laugh. Evelina raised a brow. “Is something amusing to you?”
“No. I apologize, Your Grace,” he said. “It is only that—well—it occurred to me that—if the signatures were forged, you could challenge it. I am sorry. It was a jest, which I found mildly amusing.”
Evelina frowned. “A jest,” she mused.
Evelina did not know much about the late Duke of Rothbury, but if Mrs. Newbury was correct, he was a decent man who loved his son.
He was a man who had no motivation that she could see for adding such a strict stipulation to the contract.
However, Evelina could think of someone who would benefit greatly from watching Stephan fail in his efforts to become a proper Duke of Rothbury.
“I apologize,” Mr. Black said. “Again, I—”
Evelina waved a dismissive hand. “No, do not apologize. On the contrary, I wonder…if it is possible that…”
Mr. Black tilted his head, looking rather like a cat that had discovered something interesting. “That the signatures really might be forged?” he asked.
“Her Grace is a cunning woman,” Evelina offered. “She also seems convinced that the dukedom ought to be hers. When faced with the threat of a new duke, I find it likely that such a woman would do anything to maintain her position.”
Mr. Black mulled the idea over for a moment. “I do not wish to mislead you,” he said, “so I will speak frankly.”
“Please do.”
“You are right to be suspicious. Her Grace has not maintained her position and power by being a fool. However, you are speculating about something which cannot be proven. Even if Her Grace forged the signatures, it would be enormously difficult to prove.”
“So you mean to say that the truth matters little,” Evelina said. “Because even if the signatures are forged, we likely cannot prove it.”
“Regrettably, no.”
Evelina hummed. She resisted the impulse to fidget with her hands.
Did she truly believe that the Dowager Duchess of Rothbury might have forged those signatures, or was she making too much of a solicitor’s jest?
She shook her head. “I suppose that this situation is making me a little…” Evelina trailed off. “A little overly suspicious.”
“Given what I have heard of Her Grace, I do not think one can be too suspicious,” Mr. Black said. “Should any legal matter arise which might benefit from my consideration, I am at your service, Your Grace.”
“Thank you,” Evelina said.
She bid the solicitor farewell, and after he departed, she returned to the drawing room.
For a while, Evelina simply thought. Mr. Black had spoken in jest. Most likely, Evelina was imagining something that had never happened.
She had seized on the possibility that the signatures were forged and the contract invalid because she did not wish to accept that a father could be so needlessly unkind to his son.
Evelina sighed and tossed her head back, gazing at the ceiling. Even if Her Grace had done something deceptive, Mr. Black was right. It would be nearly impossible to prove that the signatures on that contract were forged, and there was no need to give time considering something that was impossible.
She needed a distraction. Evelina’s lips curled into a small smile as she realized exactly what that distraction would be. Something small and scandalous and startling.
When Stephan returned for the evening, he would be in for a surprise.