“There is no reaction,” Anthony lied.
“I’ve always found her an excellent conversationalist,” Jamie said.
“Then you marry her.”
“I don’t have to marry like you. One day, of course, but there is no urgency at this point,” Jamie said smugly.
“I don’t have to marry either, as I don’t plan on dying,” Anthony said.
“But your aunts count on you,” Jamie said.
“As your sisters count on you.”
“But my sisters will wed and have others to provide for them.”
Anthony didn’t answer that because all three of them knew the words for the truth. Still, he was not marrying anyone and especially not Evangeline Spencer. The woman was the least comfortable person he knew.
“Lord Beaton and his son have arrived,” Chadders said from the doorway.
“Bring them here, Chadders,” Toby added.
The men were ushered in minutes later. Faces solemn, they sat and the hard talking began.
Lord Beaton took two hours to be convinced that his finances could be saved. Humbled and surprised, he and his son left the house with renewed hope and the knowledge that in fact he hadnot destroyed his family’s future, but there was work to be done before he was out of danger.
After the Beatons left, Anthony and his friends talked for hours, like they often did since becoming friends all those years ago. They drank brandy, ate a meal, and discussed a variety of things. These were the only men he let see the true Anthony, as they did him. It was late by the time he walked out Toby’s front door, but as he was not ready to return to his home, he headed in another direction, seeking a different form of entertainment to keep the cold inside him at bay, no matter how briefly.
Chapter Six
Evie slipped outof the bed she shared with Prue, biting back the yelp as her toes touched the cold wood floor. She then tiptoed to the door, and out, closing it softly behind her.
Taking the stairs down, she stepped off the second from the bottom, as the first creaked. Heading into the parlor, she lit the candle on the narrow side table.
In the middle of the room was a chest, over which Evie had draped a large, thick blanket, she’d said, to give the room a more cheerful look. On top were stacked an array of things, including books, her father’s pipe, a length of ribbon, and sewing supplies. Removing them all, Evie pulled aside the blanket and opened the old wooden lid. She’d decided this was the best hiding place for her disguise, as it looked like a pile of clothing that possibly needed darning.
“So you’re going out again?”
Evie muffled her squeak at the words and spun to find one of the two servants they’d employed upon arriving in London.
“Humphrey, you will be the death of me,” Evie whispered, clutching her chest. “Go back to bed.”
“You’ll come trouble, you will.” He had his large beefy arms folded and was giving her a hard look.
“We’ve discussed this, and I am taking no risks.”
The first night she’d been just about to leave the house dressed as a man, he’d walked into the room scaring her half to death.
Humphrey needed little sleep apparently and liked to get a start on the next day’s chores after the Spencers retired for the evening. He’d asked what was going on, and she’d had to tell him. He’d voiced his displeasure many times since. But he had kept her secret from her father and sister.
“Just leaving the house dressed as a man is a risk for a young lady such as yourself. What if you are hurt? Or someone tries to rob you and realizes—”
“I am quite safe. I never lurk in the shadows, and stride everywhere so no one can grab me—”
“You are a lady, and as such should be upstairs in your bed.” He scowled at her. “I could come with you,” Humphrey offered, as he had every time he’d caught her.
“I will get in a hackney from here to my location, and then return in one,” Evie said. Actually, she only took one on the return journey if her winnings were good enough.
He gave her a hard look before leaving the room, his disapproval clear.
