“I didn’t hire him. He volunteered to lead the excavation.”
“So it is him!” Lottie fairly squealed as the grocer’s door opened once again.
A stoop-shouldered matron shot her an ulcerous look. “Such an outburst in public. Take a care, young lady, to put a guard on that imprudent tongue of yours.”
“Yes, madam.” Lottie dipped her head in penance, yet behind the gloved fingers covering her mouth, Eva saw a smile flash.
Once the lady strode far enough down the pavement, they both laughed—and how good it felt to be so lighthearted. Once the giggles were over, though, Eva tugged her friend farther away from the shop door to avoid further censures.
Lottie reset her hat, which had been knocked askew. “Is he as handsome as he used to be?”
“I can’t really be the judge of that, beauty being in the eye of the beholder and all. But if you like a piratey sort of fellow who more often than not forgets to shave his whiskers, then I suppose you could say he’s handsome.” She would, which surprised even her.
“Well, it’s settled, then. You must bring Mr. Webb to the Guy Fawkes bonfire so I can judge for myself.”
“I didn’t say I was attending.”
“Oh yes, you will”—Lottie pushed a finger in Eva’s shoulder—“or I’ll have my impish little brother lead the procession right to your doorstep.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“You know I must always get my way, Eva dear.”
Eva sighed. Though Lottie would never admit it, she wasas dogged as her mother. “Fine. I’ll invite him, but I cannot guarantee he will accept.”
“You’re the dandiest.” Her friend beamed. “Until then!”
Stepping around her, Lottie strode away, taking all her sunshine with her.
Eva trudged in the opposite direction, toward Tattleton’s Pawn and Jams. The fern bumped against her hip, making her cross, but deep down she knew that wasn’t the true reason for her irritation. Oh, why had she allowed herself to get duped into asking Bram Webb to escort her to Bonfire Night?
Now she had two things she really didn’t want to do.
Bram had always been a night owl, a trait acquired from his mother. In more ways than one, she hadn’t been like other women, a fact that undisputedly came with benefits. She wasn’t always breathing down his neck to go to bed. She didn’t care if he made noise at an ungodly hour. Frequent complaints spouted from their neighbour, Mrs. Hempstone, however, especially that time he’d tried to make a diamond from coal dust and gunpowder. What an explosion. He’d blown a sizeable hole in the kitchen wall, nearly taking out Mrs. Hempstone’s cat in the process. But his mother hadn’t noticed because she wasn’t home. Most evenings she wasn’t, which left him to his own imaginative devices. His childhood had been a young lad’s dream, and yet, such freedom had come with a price tag. Namely shame.
And if Eva was to discover the truth about the circumstances of his birth ... well, their growing friendship would face significant strain. A lady of her standing would likely struggle with societal expectations and the potential scandal it could bring to associate with him.
Rubbing his eyes, Bram leaned back in his chair in the Inman breakfast-room-turned-makeshift-antiquity-studio. Comingback to Royston had exposed memories he’d thought he’d folded neatly away.
Light footsteps padded into the room, followed by Eva’s soft voice. “Am I catching you at a bad moment?”
He removed his pocket watch and snapped open the lid. What a curious time for her to seek him out. She’d been avoiding him the better part of the past week. Tucking away his watch, he arched a brow at her. “It’s nearly midnight. What’s gotten you out of bed? No, that’s not true, is it?” He narrowed his eyes on her lithe form still garbed in her serviceable blue day dress. “You’ve not been to bed yet.”
“I was ... reading. Yes. That’s it. You know I like to read.” Absently, she picked up a shard of a clay pot, suddenly interested in examining its jagged edges. “But if this is awful timing, I shall go back to my book.”
A playful grin lifted one side of his mouth. “It is never awful timing to be visited by a lovely lady.”
“Come now, we both know I am no beauty.” She set the shard down and faced him. “You need not pretend otherwise.”
He gaped. “Who on earth ever gave you the idea you are not beautiful?”
“‘Big mouth, long nose, Eva Inman has no beaux.’” Her terrible words singsonged like a shiver in the night. “That’s what Richard Trestwell always said.”
Bram’s hands curled into fists as he rose. Of course it had been Trestwell. “I knew the cully owned a foul mouth, but I never knew he said such a rotten thing about you. Why would you allow lies from a muckle-headed urchin to shade your own view of yourself?”
“They are not lies, as you can see for yourself.” She circled her hand in front of her face.
He grabbed her wrist. Blast that Trestwell for planting such a wicked falsehood so deeply into her soul. “What I see, Eva Inman, are lips capable of great smiles, bright enough to lightmy day—or night, as the case may be. And that nose of yours is noble. Regal, even. Had I a diamond coronet in my pocket, I wouldn’t hesitate to crown you queen here and now. You are a striking woman, crafted in God’s image, and are not defined by the cruel words of a callous boy. You are—and ever will be—a beauty in my eyes. Do not doubt it.”
