Chapter 5
The night was quiet in Mayfair, as Evelina slipped through the door.
Already, her staff had gone to bed, but her pulse still jumped as the Duke of Rothbury entered behind her.
She tried to soothe the uneasy energy that shot through her veins by silently reminding herself that she was the Dowager Countess of Thornwall, beholden to no husband’s mastery.
Why should it matter if she was alone with an unmarried man? Or wearing another man’s clothing?
Evelina’s face grew warm. It seemed as if her disguise had not been nearly as effective as she had presumed, given that His Grace had recognized her as a woman at first glance.
The duke chuckled, and Evelina cast him a questioning glance. “Your house is quite lovely,” His Grace said. “It is not what I would have expected of you, the woman who sits in taverns and seeks out men for dalliances.”
“You knew that I was a lady,” Evelina said.
“I know.”
She waited for him to clarify his remark, but he did not. Evelina glanced at her lovely foyer with vases of flowers on every surface and the pale pink wallpaper. After the earl died, she had decorated the townhouse to suit her own tastes.
“I could say the same of you,” Evelina mused.
“Fair enough.”
“We can speak in the drawing room, Your Grace.”
Evelina walked quietly there, conscious of his footsteps behind her.
A jolt of excitement traced along the path of her spine.
As a girl, she had never disobeyed her father; she had been too frightened of his fury to muster even the smallest defiance.
Still, there had been times when she had imagined occasions such as this, where she slipped between the shafts of shadow and moonlight with a lover.
Evelina smothered a sigh. This was not what she had with the duke. They were not lovers wandering in the dark together.
“Your Grace? You know my name is Stephan.”
“Referring to you as such would be highly inappropriate,” Evelina replied, as she lowered herself into the nearby chair.
The duke paused at the threshold and gave her a considering look.
Evelina imagined that he was like most men, trying to unravel her seeming contradictions.
In Evelina’s mind, there were none. It had been different when they were at the tavern, but now, they were in her drawing room. There were rules to be followed.
More pertinently, if she acted as though she was a little too fond of this duke, he might misunderstand her.
Evelina did not wish to do anything which might give His Grace the impression that she liked him.
She had not yet developed an opinion about him, save for an idle notice that he was interesting, but men had a dreadful tendency to become overbearing when they believed women enjoyed their company.
His Grace dropped onto the sofa near her and tipped his head back, gazing down at Evelina. “I have a new theory about you.”
“Your first theory was quite incorrect,” Evelina noted.
And frustrating, but she did not tell him that.
“I think this one is better,” he said. “You are a lonely widow.”
Evelina laughed. “Do you imagine that I miss my husband?”
His Grace shook his head. “No, clearly not. I think it is your friends who are the cause of your distress. You have watched them all marry and start families of their own, and their families hold precedence over friendship. You feel lonelier and lonelier with each marriage and child, and this desire to be a mother stems from your need not to be alone.”
Warmth rose to her face. She clasped her hands together in her lap and forced a hollow-sounding laugh. “I think we have had enough of your foolish speculations, Your Grace.”
A tightening sensation twisted in her chest. The duke was not entirely correct; there was much more to her situation than feeling lonely. However, his assumptions were near enough to the truth that Evelina desired nothing more than to forget the subject entirely.
His Grace slowly nodded. “I will not press you.”
His calm acquiescence grated against Evelina. She felt suddenly as though she ought to justify herself, which was ridiculous. Evelina did not know this man and so owed him nothing, much less an explanation. “I simply want to have my own home.”
“You have one,” the duke said, gesturing to the room around them.
“No, I have a house,” Evelina said. “A home is something else. It is something that you make, something that makes you happy. I want my home to be filled with joy and laughter, and I know that it can be. I just need to bear a child and become the mother I am meant to be.”
His Grace shook his head. “Homes are…your notion is so romantic.”
Evelina frowned. “I think it is a charming notion, just myself and my child.”
“Unrealistic,” he said.
Evelina stared at him in disbelief, a hand coming instinctively up to her chest. “You are being most unkind, Your Grace.”
“For good reason,” he grumbled.
Evelina narrowed her eyes, studying his face for anything which might reveal why His Grace was suddenly so dour.
Her search uncovered no answers, but she sensed that there was something more than he was saying.
Something about the mention of a hone as a pleasant, lovely place left the man strangely disturbed.
“Nevertheless, that is my desire,” Evelina said. “If you are going to insult me for it or tell me that my dream is unachievable, I have no further use for you.”
“Are you using me?”
“I am indulging you,” she clarified. “You said that you have an invitation of sorts for me, and I assumed that it would be a…”
Evelina could not bring herself to say the words. She had hoped that His Grace might have some idea for how she might bear a child. Even though Evelina could not imagine what his idea might be, she still hoped. Perhaps he would propose that they go to her bedroom and try again?
“I do have an invitation,” he said. “A proposal, if you will. I could marry you.”
“That is it?” Evelina scoffed.
Now, the duke was simply mocking her.
“If I wished to marry, I would have done that!” she exclaimed.
Evelina chose not to mention that her initial plan had been to marry a man, just one of a lower class than she was. If she could not have the advantage which came to the male sex, she had thought that she might, at least, have her title and wealth.
“You have not heard the rest,” the duke said.
“Oh, is there more?” she asked, laughing incredulously.
“There is,” His Grace replied, a note of irritation creeping into his voice. “I will give you forty-eight hours to consider my proposal. If you marry me, I promise that you will have the baby you want. I will not leave your bed until we are certain that you are pregnant.”
Evelina’s breath hitched involuntarily. A part of her—the part which had been brought up as a proper lady—found the suggestion scandalous and vulgar. Even if she wished to have a child, she would prefer not to be spoken of as though she was a brood-mare.
His Grace leaned closer and let his forearms rest on his knees.
The man smirked, as though he found the idea of being so often in her bedroom to be a delightful prospect.
“Since you have made it clear that you do not want a husband in your life, I want to assure you that I neither want nor need a wife,” he said.
“Regrettably, I need an heir and quickly. Once I have my heir, you will be welcome to raise the child wherever you please. London, the countryside, even China! I care not.”
Evelina pursed her lips together, silently thinking through the offer. Of course, all dukes were supposed to marry and produce heirs. That was the most likely reason for His Grace’s proposal, but Evelina wondered why he would be so quick to extend the offer to her.
His Grace was not an old man; he had more than sufficient time to produce an heir. Why did he need one so quickly? It could not be that he deeply wished to be a father, or else, he would have shown more care about where the child would be raised. The terms were compelling, though.
“We will not be involved in one another’s lives,” Evelina said, “just to make certain that I understand you properly.”
“You have.”
Evelina hummed. “It is an unexpected offer.”
“I do not doubt it.”
He stood, and Evelina shivered. A marriage to His Grace could solve some of her plan’s complications.
She had a man who had promised to try as many times as required to produce a child, and although Evelina was not well-studied in the law, she imagined that some clever solicitor would make bearing a child a condition of the marriage.
In truth, this arrangement would be quite close to following her initial plan.
The one deviation was His Grace. A duke was not some common man.
“I will return in two days’ time for your answer,” he said.
“I may have some additional conditions,” Evelina said.
She rose, so he was not towering over him.
Even so, the top of her head barely reached his chin.
Evelina stood so near that she was forced to crane her neck and tip her head back to meet his eyes.
His Grace smiled. Evelina told herself that it was too dark for her to discern much of the man’s expression, but she thought that it might be desire darkening the man’s expression.
If she wished, she could reach out and touch him with ease.
“I might humor them,” His Grace said. “You have two days to consider what I offer and to decide if we are to proceed with this negotiation.”
“Very well.”
Her heart was in her throat. Could it truly be so easy?
The duke bowed. “Until then, my lady.”
Evelina barely remembered to curtsey. It did not even occur to her to escort the Duke of Rothbury out, but she heard the door open and close. Through the window, she saw him enter the hackney. A moment later, he was gone from sight.
Evelina sank onto the sofa and drew a shaking breath.
Her plan might truly succeed! A newfound energy burst inside her, like the sun emerging after a long and tumultuous thunderstorm.
Evelina took a deep breath, and slowly, her nerves calmed.
She had two days to think about the duke’s proposal and to present him with her conditions.
Evelina must proceed very, very carefully.