Chapter 20
“Are you sure this is wise, Maria?” Evelina asked as they were escorted through one of the main tea rooms at the White Conduit House.
The room bustled with the London elite who were the tea room’s patrons.
Black-and-white-liveried servants moved among the tables with trays of tea sets, cakes, cheese or sandwiches.
Chandeliers provided a glittering, liquid gold light over the proceedings.
Maria and Evelina were escorted by a servant through the room to a staircase.
“I have nothing to lose,” Maria whispered, conscious of being overheard.
Evelina made eye contact with anyone and everyone, smiling here and there. Some smiled back. Others tutted and looked away from the infamous Dowager Countess of Thornwall. An unsuitable companion for a young lady, clearly. Evelina smiled all the more.
“As long as you are sure,” she replied.
They reached the staircase and ascended to the second main tea room, located directly above the first, skirting it and stepping through a door into a private room.
It had been set up for three. A fire burned merrily, and a window overlooked the pleasure gardens below, in which top-hatted men and bonneted ladies were as ever present as daisies and dandelions.
“Of course, I am not sure,” Maria confessed when they were alone. “But I could not risk this man, who claims to be Damien’s brother, vanishing if I did not reply.”
She took a seat while Evelina admired the view.
“There is the Earl of Rochester,” she commented, “with a woman who is certainly not Lady Rochester. The man is shameless.”
“And are we open to gossip, Evelina?” Maria asked.
“Usually no, but when one is thrust into the midst of it, ignoring it becomes difficult.”
“Please try. I want to be ready when this gentleman arrives. We are here early for that reason.”
Evelina took a seat, looking at Maria with a raised eyebrow. “I feel as though I am taking part in some cloak-and-dagger enterprise. Very well, I will be serious. So, you wrote to this gentleman who first wrote to you claiming to be the duke’s brother.”
Maria nodded, taking the two letters she had received from the man claiming to be Ezekiel Alaric and laying them on the table.
“I wrote to him saying that I believe Damien would benefit from a brother, from knowing he is not the only member of his line, but that he should be approached with caution as he is suspicious of strangers.”
“So, you offered to be an intermediary,” Evelina said.
Maria nodded. “If Ezekiel had written to Damien out of the blue, he would have received short shrift. I dread the thought of Damien burning this particular bridge before either of them gets to even set foot on it. Losing the chance to get to know his brother.”
Evelina put out a hand, and Maria handed her the second letter.
“He is very earnest in his gratitude and receptive to your plan. But says little else apart from this place and time.”
“Yes,” Maria said. “Nothing at all. I had hoped to be able to broach the subject with Damien, but there has been no right time in the last few days.”
“Is he still avoiding you?” Evelina asked, putting the letter down and pouring tea for them both.
“No. We had breakfast together yesterday, and he asked me to arrange a visit for Gilbert. I did so that day, and though Damien made himself scarce, he did not object or block it. Which is progress.”
“How you clutch at straws!” Evelina suddenly laughed. “Your husband shares one breakfast with you and consents to your adoptive child visiting, while he hides away. And that is progress?”
She sounded disbelieving. Maria sipped her tea glumly, hearing how it sounded when she spoke it aloud. But… she could not speak to her friends about curses.
“I know! I know!” she said. “But you do not understand Damien, or Winterleigh. You really don’t.”
“I do not. I would like to shake the man, I really would,” Evelina said, hotly. “His behavior is childish to say the least.”
Maria laughed at the idea of Evelina shaking Damien by his lapels. Damien was a mountain compared to Evelina. She wondered how he would react to being scolded for his behavior.
He would eject her from his house and forbid her from ever returning. Would I be next?
That diluted her amusement. She stared into the tea, wondering if it would ever come to a choice between Damien and Evelina. Damien would not make her choose. She realized that she would rather dismiss the notion than contemplate what her choice would be.
Of course, I would choose my closest and oldest friend. Of course, I would choose the Corset Chronicles Club. Of course I would…
But the idea of Damien turning his back on her, shrugging his shoulders helplessly and informing her that if he was not her foremost priority, then they didn’t have a marriage, was unbearable.
Maria was falling ever deeper under his spell, her heart wrapped around his like ivy climbing the trunk of a thrusting beech.
“Come to think of it. If it comes to it, I would like you to say that you took matters into your own hands. That you wrote to his brother and invited him here,” Evelina said seriously.
Maria smiled, reaching across the table to squeeze her friend’s hand in gratitude.
“I would not let you face his ire alone, but thank you for the offer,” Maria said.
Evelina waved it aside. “It is no skin off my nose to deal with some of his bluster. What could he do to me?”
There was a respectful tap at the door, which opened to admit a member of the serving staff.
“Master Ezekiel Alaric,” he announced, stepping aside.
Maria found herself looking at a tall, slender man with curling fair hair and bright blue eyes. His cheeks were high and his jaw strong, lips slightly pouting. He was beautiful, rather than handsome, with a hint of femininity about him. His beauty seemed too perfect.
This man could not look less like his brother, and Maria found herself staring, tracing every line of him with her eyes in a vain effort to find some resemblance between them.
“Your Grace, the Duchess of Winterleigh, I presume?” Ezekiel said in a cultured, precise voice that was smooth and gentle.
“I am,” Maria said after a moment’s hesitation.
She was still not fully used to being addressed by her title and responding to it. That she was a duchess didn’t seem quite real somehow.
“It is my honor, Your Grace,” Ezekiel said, sweeping a graceful, courtly bow as he stepped into the room, “and your charming companion?”
“The Dowager Countess of Thornwall,” Maria introduced.
He gave another bow, which Evelina acknowledged with a graceful incline of her head.
“May I?” he asked, indicating the empty place at the table.
“Please do,” Maria said. “That is why we are here, after all.”
Ezekiel sat, moving with the care of a dancer.
It seemed that he was graceful in everything he did.
Maria studied him. She could see some small hints of Damien in his features, but while Damien was dark, his brother—if Ezekiel was, in fact, who he claimed to be—was fair.
While Damien’s exotic features were heavy with contained power and latent strength, Ezekiel’s were finely made, even fragile.
They cannot possibly be from the same mother and father! Two brothers could not be so different!
“Allow me to thank you for this opportunity to plead my case. I fear, from what I have gleaned from my brother, that to approach him directly would be a fool’s errand. And your letter to me confirmed that.”
Maria nodded. “He has been on his own for most of his life. It is difficult to trust in such circumstances.”
Evelina shifted in her seat but only smiled beatifically when Maria looked at her. She said nothing, but doubtless had things to say. Maria was more interested in what Ezekiel had to say at the moment.
“I understand. I was fortunate to be raised by the mother I share with Damien and not the father. She was a compassionate and kind woman and ensured that I was raised to see the good in everyone.”
“Forgive me, Master Alaric…” Maria began.
“Ezekiel, please, Your Grace,” Ezekiel said smoothly.
“Ezekiel, you are so very different from your brother. How is it possible?” Maria asked.
Evelina laughed. “I think my friend is trying to say delicately what I would say outright. You cannot be full siblings, surely?”
Ezekiel colored and looked away for a moment. “I can assure you, Lady Thornwall, that we are full brothers. I take after my mother’s side of the family, where fair hair is commonplace.”
Maria thought that Ezekiel seemed embarrassed by the question. But why would he be if his lineage was pure? There was nothing scandalous about two brothers taking after different parents in looks. No rule said that all brothers must look alike.
“He is very saturnine. A veritable oriental pirate.”
Ezekiel frowned prettily for a moment.
“An interesting description. Evocative,” Ezekiel said. “You have quite the way with words, Lady Thornwall. Are you in print?”
Evelina laughed, flattered. Ezekiel grinned, sharing the humor.
“Perhaps one day, Ezekiel,” Evelina said warmly.
Ezekiel inclined his head, acknowledging her words. “I have heard rumors of my brother. That he wears a mask to cover a deformity. It was quite a shock to hear. But I did not realize he was… an oriental savage in appearance. Interesting.”
“An oriental pirate was how Lady Thornwall described him,” Maria corrected, although she found herself a little uncomfortable by the description. It was not unfair per se, but her attachment to Damien made her wish for something a little…different. “Interesting how?”
Ezekiel seemed to have become momentarily lost in thought. He returned his attention to the room with a lazy blink, then wide, sky-blue eyes and an even brighter smile.
“No reason in particular. Only that our mother was very fair and our father not that dark. But, perhaps an ancestor somewhere is possessed of black hair and beard. It doesn’t matter,” he said, waving a dismissive hand.
“I would like to ask you how you think it would be best for me to approach my brother. In order to be accepted.”
Maria exchanged looks with Evelina. There was something odd in Ezekiel’s response, especially after he had just defended himself for looking so different to Damien. As though he wished to insinuate something.
It could not be that Damien was an illegitimate child; there was no evidence of that at all. Still, she felt uncomfortable and tried to assuage herself of the feeling. Maria had agreed to this meeting, but a cold sense of foreboding curled in her chest.
She had assumed that Ezekiel’s intentions were pure and honest. Were they, though? Or did the young man have some more nefarious designs? It was impossible to know if the comment was a cruel insinuation or merely an innocent musing.
“I think the best approach would be for me to speak to Damien alone, perhaps this evening. Prepare the ground as it were,” Maria said.
Evelina nodded her approval. “That man definitely needs some softening up before the delivery of news like this.”
Ezekiel listened earnestly. “I must confess that I am keen to meet him. I have waited so long for this moment. To be reunited with my brother. It is hard to contemplate the notion of extending that period any longer. When do you think that I might be permitted to come to Winterleigh?”
Maria took a deep breath. It was all moving very quickly, and she was nervous about Damien’s reaction. She felt that her own relationship with him hung on a knife’s edge, liable to explode into flames at the slightest deviation from the norm.
How can I introduce the idea of a long-lost brother without Damien believing that I am conspiring against him?
“I appreciate that, Ezekiel, but you must be patient. Your brother must be handled carefully, or all will be lost. Let me speak to him and then write to you tomorrow. I will know better where we stand then.”
Ezekiel reluctantly accepted. He remained with the two women, drinking tea and talking of his home in Northumberland for an hour before taking his leave.
“Well, what do you make of him?” Evelina said after getting up and checking at the door that he was out of earshot.
She did not know entirely what she felt about the young man, only that he was not what she anticipated. “Quite remarkable,” Maria said.
“I would tend to agree. I have never seen a more beautiful man. He would have the heads of ladies turning everywhere in this city, if he had a title, that is.”
“Do you think so?” Maria said, absently.
“It is self-evident. Do you disagree?”
“He was somewhat effeminate, I thought,” Maria said. “A little too delicate-featured for a man.”
Evelina scoffed. “You have been spoiled by your barbarous duke. Damien is a relic of an older time. Ezekiel is a man of our own age. In terms of looks, anyway. Such a shame that no one will look twice at him once they know he has no rank.”
“I do not think I would ever have considered a man such as he attractive,” Maria said, resolutely. “Damien has strength. Solidity. He can protect a woman. I am not sure I could be so confident about Ezekiel. Besides…”
Maria frowned, resting her chin on her hands thoughtfully, stirring honey into her tea, watching the swirling liquid.
“Besides?” Evelina asked.
“You did not think that he was suggesting something when he spoke of his surprise at how different he and Damien are?” Maria said.
“We had just remarked upon it,” Evelina pointed out.
“Yes, but we have seen both men. He does not know what Damien looks like firsthand. He has clearly been listening to rumors, though. We did not use the word savage.”
“We implied it. A pirate is not a civilized man.”
“Perhaps I am overthinking,” Maria admitted.
“Now that the moment is here, though, I find myself exceedingly nervous. I do not know how I am going to introduce this news to Damien without sacrificing myself and Gilbert. I am afraid, Evelina. I wanted to do this for Damien, but I am deathly afraid that it will be the end of us!”