“If I can convince James, will you help me, Evie?” Gigi clasped her hands together as if in prayer. “Please?”
How could anyone say no to a Harrington? Even with blackmail and secrets hanging over her head, Evie couldn’t bring herself to abandon this life. To give up this taste of happiness that fate had bestowed upon her…out of generosity or cruelty, she didn’t know which. What she did admit to herself was that she couldn’t leave just yet. Not until she was out of options.
“All right,” she said. “If James agrees, I shall come.”
Chapter Eight
“Lord Dunsmuir and Mr. Friend to see you, my lord,” Hollis said.
James crossed the study to greet his cronies. He’d known Robbie Dunsmuir and Eugene Friend since their days at Eton, and they had all roomed together at Oxford. Like him, the two were firstborn sons who welcomed the responsibilities that accompanied the role. They shared interests in politics, financial matters, and sports, and James trusted his friends implicitly.
“Well met, old chaps,” he said.
After the usual exchange of handshakes and jovial thumps on the back, they settled in the tufted leather seats by the fire. Tea and refreshments were served, and James caught up with his friends.
“We saw your brother on our way in,” Dunsmuir remarked. “He looked in fine spirits.”
Copper-haired and blue-eyed, the Scot was a lanky fellow whose easygoing charm had made him a magnet for females. Barmaids and baronesses vied for his attention, and he’d been a bit of a rake before he married. Now he had a wife and seemed content with overseeing a growing brood. Given Dunsmuir’s own contentious relationships with his brothers—he had five of them—he’d been particularly sympathetic to James’s dealings with Ethan and Owen.
“Ethan is doing well.” With brotherly pride, James added, “He has been composing music.”
“That is capital news,” Friend said. “Talent such as his should not go to waste.”
Friend was Dunsmuir’s opposite physically, being dark and heavy-set. His full mutton chops were a point of pride. Behind his gold-rimmed spectacles, his eyes gleamed with a mix of intelligence and impatience. He’d inherited a debt-ridden textile business from his papa; now he owned a half-dozen lucrative factories, with more on the way. He was also the remaining bachelor of the trio.
“I would wager Ethan’s pretty new wife has something to do with his mood.” Dunsmuir winked. “We met her as well. I’ve always had a preference for redheads.”
“You have a preference for anything that breathes.” Friend raised his thick brows. “And isn’t your lady blonde?”
“As bright as sunshine is my Eloise,” Dunsmuir said smoothly. “While she holds my heart captive, a fellow cannot help but notice beauty. Well, unless he’s entirely captivated by ledgers and numbers—like you, Friend.”
Used to the back and forth, which had been going on since they were lads, James smiled.
This is what I need. To spend time with old friends. To think about something other than what went wrong in my marriage…
He reined in his thoughts. Since their last encounter in the greenhouse, he and Evie had been assiduously avoiding one another. They crossed paths when necessary: at meals and activities where the absence of either of them might alert their guests to their marital troubles. Despite his conflicted feelings about his wife, he appreciated her discretion. She would never embarrass him with a public display. In fact, he was beginning to realize that with her, he had the opposite problem: she was so contained that he had trouble reading her at all.
What she’d said about their babe twisted his gut even now, his hands clenching around the arms of his wingchair. For months, he’d avoided the topic of the miscarriage, not wishing to cause her pain. He’d held his own grief inside to spare hers. Apparently, his efforts had been for nothing: she seemed to be incapable of feeling.
“Perhaps that was nature’s way of rectifying something that should not have happened in the first place.”
How could she spew such vileness? He’d wanted to shout at her, shake her. When had she become this bloodless…this cold? Worse yet, what if she’d always been this way, and he’d fooled himself into thinking that she preferred emotional restraint when she, in fact, had no feelings at all?
“Of course, neither of us are as settled as Manderly here.” With a grin, Dunsmuir drew James into the fray. “Look at him, with his flourishing estate and accomplished lady. If your fair countess is free, I should like to pay my respects. Having glimpsed your glorious gardens, I would not mind her expert advice on improving my own.”
Friend snorted. “I would keep him away from my lady. And my garden.”
“Evie is occupied at the moment.” In truth, James had no idea what his wife was doing, but he wasn’t about to share that. “She will come by if she is able.”
“If we are done with the niceties”—Friend gave Dunsmuir a pointed look—“I think it is best to get on with the purpose of our visit.”
So there was a reason for the unexpected call. While James didn’t mind spending time with his old friends, he’d suspected that it wasn’t mere coincidence that brought them to his neighborhood. Perhaps they had a financial venture to discuss or a political tidbit to share.
“I am all ears,” he offered.
Friend and Dunsmuir looked at each other.
“This information must remain confidential,” Friend said.
