Outside, her carriage waited, along with the driver and one outrider. As well as Mr. Waverly’s mount.
Of course, he’d not expected to ride inside the carriage with her.
Another gust lifted her hat, so that the string she’d attached it with tugged at her chin. The wind carried a few small droplets of rain.
Bleak clouds hovered in the sky along the direction in which they were to travel. Rain was indeed a certainty.
Poor Mr. Waverly wore a long coat and tall top hat. He’d be soaked in no time.
“You must ride inside the carriage until the rain passes,” she suggested. If he wanted to do otherwise, that was his decision to make.
A few misgivings stirred her conscience when thunder rolled in the distance.
Again, his unassuming nod.
Eve climbed inside and settled herself comfortably. Within two minutes, he joined her.
She’d not expected his presence to be so overwhelming. However, within the tight confines of the carriage it was unavoidable.
He settled himself across from her, setting his hat beside him but not removing his greatcoat.
Eve had not looked at him so closely before. In her eyes, he’d represented security to her and his company had always been most reassuring.
But in close quarters, with no other distractions, her mind trespassed on formerly untouchable ground. How had she not noticed his masculinity?
He must be over six feet tall. Although a few silver hairs grew at his temples, he still had a full head of hair. Firm chin. Broad shoulders, she knew, even without the extra material of his coat.
Jean Luc had lost most of his hair by their last meeting.
Jean Luc was dead.
She could still hardly believe it.
“He really is dead?” She asked the question without thought.
Dark gray eyes stared back at her solemnly. “I trust my associate to be accurate, but you’ll see for yourself soon enough.”
“He will have been laid out in one of the drawing rooms. If any of the servants remain. He wasn’t ever one to inspire much loyalty.” She tilted her head. “I hate to imagine the sort who will attend his funeral.”
“Nothing for you to worry over, ma’am.” Ah, yes. There was Mr. Waverly’s reassuring response. “You won’t be expected to attend. And according to my understanding, a butler and two footmen have remained. The housekeeper resigned last spring. Since then, the butler has been unable to retain respectable female help, as I’m sure you understand.”
Another grumbling of thunder sounded, this one closer. Eve shivered and tugged her coat more tightly around her. They rode for some time in silence.
“I haven’t visited in over two years. I hadn’t thought to return so soon.”
Mr. Waverly withheld his opinion on such a statement.
Eve closed her eyes and remembered that last visit. The man she’d married hadn’t existed for years. She’d loved him once. So very long ago. Conflicting emotions threatened to overwhelm her.
“Jean Luc was thrown from his horse shortly after Hollyhock was born.” She’d still been abed having suffered a difficult childbirth. “His physician assured me that he would survive, even walk again. What he failed to tell me was that my husband was consuming large quantities of Laudanum.”
“Opium,” Mr. Waverly supplied.
“Yes.” Things had been difficult enough in that she’d only been able to provide him with daughters. “It managed to rob him of what little good character he’d had to begin with.”
She hadn’t spoken of this with anyone, although she suspected Rhoda had knowledge of most of it. “Initially, I assumed he was simply out of sorts, frustrated with his limp.” Frustrated with me.
“And then I realized it was the tincture that changed him. He could not go a day without it. Without the medicine he became mean-spirited and violent.” Eve shivered at the memory. “I hate the stuff. I’m certain it was sent to earth by the devil himself. If I’m ever injured or ill, I’d rather die than touch the poison.”
