Chapter Eleven
Two weeks had passed since the wedding and still Anthony had not come to her.
At first, Evangeline had convinced herself the delay meant nothing. Anthony was a busy man. The estate demanded his attention. Parliament demanded his attention. Half the county seemed determined to demand his attention.
So she had been patient. For two weeks. But now she was beginning to lose her patience entirely.
The trouble was that in every other respect their marriage seemed to be improving.
They dined together most evenings. He sought her opinion on estate matters. He had even begun including her in discussions regarding charitable projects and tenant concerns. The awkwardness of their first days at Blackwood Hall had slowly given way to something easier.
Something that occasionally felt almost like friendship.
Yet whenever the possibility of greater intimacy arose, Anthony retreated.
Worse, he had begun returning home later and later in the evenings. Several nights she had already retired before hearing his carriage arrive in the courtyard below.
When she asked where he had been, his answers remained polite but frustratingly vague.
Estate business, meetings, matters requiring attention.
That morning, Evangeline stood at the window of her bedchamber and stared out across the moors, watching sunlight drift over the distant hills beyond the window.
A terrible thought had begun taking root in her mind.
What if Anthony simply does not desire me?
The possibility made her stomach twist. She was vain enough to assume every man should find her attractive, but she had spent enough Seasons in London to know she was considered pretty. And yet, her own husband had shown remarkably little interest in her.
Perhaps there is something wrong with me? Maybe I bore him. Perhaps—
"No," she muttered aloud. "This isn't your fault."
Just then a knock sounded at her door.
Evangeline turned. "Come in."
Mrs Dearwell entered. The housekeeper's grey hair was tucked neatly beneath her cap, and not a single crease disturbed her black gown.
"Your Grace," she said. "The carriage is ready."
"Thank you, Mrs Dearwell."
The older woman smiled kindly. "I hope you enjoy your visit to London."
With that she departed, and Evangeline gathered her gloves and reticule before taking one final look around the bedchamber.
The room felt more familiar than it had upon her arrival. Fresh flowers stood upon the dressing table, books occupied several shelves near the window, and her embroidery basket rested beside a chair she frequently claimed in the afternoons. Signs of a life slowly taking root.
Yet despite all of it, she was eager for the comfort of home. Or what had once been home.
***
When the carriage finally stopped before Everly House, Evangeline barely waited for the footman to lower the steps before descending.
The front door opened almost immediately and Daphne burst out before the butler could announce her.
"Evangeline!"
Before she could properly brace herself, her youngest sister launched forward and wrapped her in a fierce embrace.
Evangeline laughed. "Good heavens, Daphne," she said. "You almost knocked me over!"
"You have been gone forever."
"It has been two weeks."
"Well, it feels like forever."
From the doorway, Rosalind smiled warmly. "Welcome home."
Something inside Evangeline softened. For the first time in days, she felt as though she could breathe.
***
Evangeline sat in her favourite chair in the sitting room. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows while carriages rattled along the street outside. The room smelled faintly of tea, beeswax, and the roses arranged upon the mantel.
Across from her, Rosalind and Daphne studied her carefully.
"Will you tell us what is so fascinating about that teacup?" Daphne asked.
Evangeline looked up. She hadn't realised she had been staring at it for some time.
"Sorry," she apologised. "I am just a little distracted."
Rosalind set down her own cup. "What is wrong?"
For a moment Evangeline considered saying nothing, but these were her sisters. She'd always shared everything with them, and she needed advice.
"It's Anthony."
Rosalind's expression immediately sharpened. "What has he done?"
The fierce protectiveness in her voice made Evangeline smile despite herself.
"Nothing," she said. "And that's the problem."
"So you still haven't…?" Rosalind asked.
Evangeline shook her head before groaning and burying her face in her hands.
"What if he doesn't like me like that?" she mumbled.
"That's impossible," Rosalind insisted. "You’re beautiful." "He doesn't seem to think so," she replied.
"Rosalind is right," Daphne agreed.
"Then why?" Evangeline asked. "Why won't he come to my bed?"
Rosalind hesitated. "There is another possibility."
Evangeline's stomach tightened. "What possibility?"
Rosalind said nothing for a long moment, but Evangeline knew her sister well enough to know what she was thinking.
Evangeline sat back in her chair. "You think there is someone else."
"I do not know," she said. "But I do know that men have needs, and if he is not having them fulfilled by you…"
Her voice trailed off as the possibility struck with surprising force. Because she knew such arrangements existed.
Many married gentlemen maintained mistresses that society pretended not to notice. Wives pretended not to care. Everyone just carried on.
The thought of Anthony seeking another woman's company should not have hurt. Their marriage was practical. She had reminded herself of that often enough.
"Perhaps she existed before he married me," Evangeline said. "Perhaps she is not the kind of woman he could marry or the kind who could have his heir—"
"You don't know there is someone else," Rosalind interjected.
"But it would make sense," she said. "He goes out almost every evening, and when I ask him where he’s been he evades me or gives me some unsatisfactory answer. How many Dukes conduct business meetings in the middle of the night?"
Rosalind pressed her lips together but said nothing.
"And if he loves her," Evangeline continued, "then perhaps that is why he will not consummate our marriage."
"Well," Daphne said. "If there is another woman we should find out who it is."
Evangeline pinched the bridge of her nose. "Daphne."
"Oh, but you have not heard my plan yet."
"We do not need a plan," Evangeline said. "If there is someone else there is nothing I can do."
"Nothing you can do?" Daphne said, her voice rising. "You cannot just sit back and let him treat you this way." Evangeline opened her mouth to reply, but Rosalind cut in before she could.
"Daphne is right," she said. "He cannot treat you this way."
"But what am I to do?" Evangeline said. "If the Duke had a mistress then I must find a way to live with it."
"I know you, Evie," Rosalind said. "And you are not the type of woman who would allow yourself to be disrespected in this way. We need to find out the truth."
Evangeline said nothing for a long moment. In truth she did wish to know if Anthony had another woman, but a part of her was afraid to learn the truth. Still, her sisters were right; if he did have a mistress she needed to know.
"Okay," she sighed. "So what is the plan?"
Daphne smiled. "We follow him.”
Evangeline looked from one sister to the other and pressed her fingertips against her temple. "This is madness."
"It is an investigation," Daphne corrected.
"It is madness disguised as an investigation."
"Those are often the most successful kinds."
Rosalind groaned. "I cannot believe we are discussing this."
Daphne continued as though no interruption had occurred. "How far is Blackwood Hall from London?"
"Far enough that we cannot hide behind hedges and pursue a duke through the countryside," Evangeline said dryly.
Daphne sighed dramatically. "Very disappointing."
"But..." Evangeline began.
Daphne perked up.
"We are staying in the London house for the rest of this week," Evangeline revealed. "Anthony is required to attend several meetings in the city, and Lady Danbury's annual garden party is scheduled for tomorrow afternoon. So rather than travel back and forth, we will be staying in Grosvenor Square.
Daphne clapped her hands together. "Well, it's perfect," she said. "We will do it tonight."
***
That evening Evangeline and Rosalind examined themselves in the mirror.
Their transformations were remarkably effective.
Gone were the fashionable pastel silks and delicate embellishments expected of a gentleman's daughter during the London Season.
In their place, Daphne had outfitted both sisters in the sort of practical clothing worn by respectable middle-class women.
Rosalind's gown was made of dark green wool with a high neckline and long sleeves, entirely suitable for evening travel but utterly devoid of elegance.
A plain Spencer jacket had been fitted over it, while a serviceable straw bonnet trimmed with modest ribbon concealed much of her hair.
Evangeline's attire was similarly unremarkable.
Her gown was a simple brown bombazine with almost no decoration whatsoever, the skirt narrower than the fashionable styles currently worn by ladies of the ton.
A dark pelisse concealed the quality of the fabric beneath, and a plain bonnet shadowed her features.
Even her gloves had been exchanged for sturdy kid leather rather than the fine pale gloves she normally wore.
The effect was startling.
Daphne stepped back to admire her work. "Perfect."
Evangeline turned slowly before the mirror. "I have never looked so ordinary in my life."
"That is the entire purpose," Daphne reminded her.
Rosalind adjusted her bonnet strings and frowned at her reflection. "I appear to be on my way to supervise a schoolroom."
"You two look ordinary enough to go unnoticed, and that's all that matters," Daphne said. "Now you should get going, you don't want to miss the Duke."
The knots in Evangeline's stomach tightened.
Rosalind took her hand. "We don't have to do this."
Evangeline exhaled shakily. "I know," she said. "But I need to know if there is someone else."
Rosalind nodded. "Then let's go."
Night had fully fallen by the time Evangeline and Rosalind positioned themselves near Blackwood House. Anthony's carriage emerged shortly before ten. The moment it departed, they hired a hackney.
Evangeline's pulse had begun racing. This had seemed sensible in theory, but now she was less convinced.
The farther they travelled, the less familiar London became. Elegant townhouses gave way to busier commercial districts. Crowds thickened. Taverns spilled light onto the streets.
Rosalind clutched her reticule. "We should go home."
"We have come this far."
Rosalind looked unconvinced but did not stop the hack.
Eventually, Anthony's carriage slowed and then stopped. Evangeline looked through the window, and her heart sank. The building itself was elegant enough, but the women entering and leaving it told a different story. So did the gentlemen.
"Oh dear," Rosalind whispered.
Evangeline could not speak. Suddenly Rosalind's terrible suggestion no longer felt impossible; it felt real, and it hurt far more than it should have. Far more than a practical marriage ought to allow.
Their carriage stopped farther down the street, and for several moments, neither moved.
Then Evangeline climbed out, Rosalind following.
"Evie—"
"We need to know."
Rosalind sighed and nodded, and together, they entered.
The interior was crowded and brightly lit. Music drifted through the air. Laughter followed. Well-dressed women moved among groups of gentlemen.
Evangeline's stomach tightened. Then she saw Anthony. Immediately, she frowned. He was not behaving as she had expected.
He was ignoring every woman who approached him. Instead, he stood speaking with an older gentleman near the rear of the room.
The conversation looked serious and not remotely social.
Confusion replaced certainty.
What was he—
But the thought had barely formed when Anthony turned, and their eyes met.
For one suspended moment, neither moved, and then his expression darkened.
Evangeline's heart stopped.
"Oh dear," Rosalind whispered again.
Anthony was already crossing the room as people moved aside instinctively. The effect was rather terrifying, but Evangeline couldn't move. It was as if she were stuck to the floor.
He stopped directly before them. "What," he said very quietly, "are you doing here?"
No one had ever made a simple question sound so dangerous.
Evangeline opened her mouth, but nothing emerged.
Anthony looked from her to Rosalind and back again, and his jaw tightened.
Then he turned. "Sebastian."
A familiar voice answered immediately. "Yes?"
"Take Lady Rosalind home."
Rosalind looked alarmed. "Evangeline—"
"Go with him," Anthony said.
The words were calm but not to be disobeyed.
Sebastian appeared beside Rosalind. "My Lady, shall we?"
Rosalind reached for Evangeline's hand and squeezed it tightly before she reluctantly allowed Sebastian to guide her away.
Then, without a word, Anthony took her arm and guided her toward a staircase at the rear of the establishment.
Evangeline wished desperately for the floor to swallow her whole.
Moments later they reached a private room upstairs.Anthony opened the door. She entered, the door closing behind them with a decisive click. Slowly, she turned to see Anthony standing between her and the door.
For the first time since meeting him, she thought she might have genuinely exhausted his patience.
And not for the first time all evening, she wondered whether following the Beast of Blackwood into a brothel had been a catastrophic mistake.