Eve already knew that Kilsyth wasn’t for the likes of her. He was an earl and required a lady. Further, she’d overheard his mother the day she visited Pickmore and learned that Kilsyth was associated with the Devils of Dalston. As she was neither a lightskirt, the type of women the Devils preferred, or a lady, the type any of them would marry, there was no place for Eve in Kilsyth’s world. Not that she’d lower herself to be a lightskirt, of course, but it was impossible that she could change the circumstances of her birth and become a lady.
Of course Kilsyth regretted the kiss and holding her. She only wished she could regret it as well.
No, not just regret, she wished to forget it, but feared it was one memory she’d hold near and dear, even though it brought the pain of rejection.
A lesson, perhaps, and one she must hold tight to so that she remembered her place. She was nothing but a ward to Kilsyth and no matter how much it hurt or how much she wished for more, it would never be, and the very reason why she was glad she’d be gone from here in three days.
Chapter 13
Several times Henry had considered asking Mrs. Peade to send for Eve so that she could assist him in correspondence or anything else he could think of, but stopped himself. He should have never kissed Eve. No matter how perfect, and how much he desired her, it was not right. He’d shocked her, of that he was certain. Scared her, even, since she’d run away from him as quickly as she could and had not returned.
She was his ward! What the blazes had he been thinking?
He wasn’t. That was perfectly clear, but until he could somehow erase his desire, longing and even caring for Eve, he should keep away from her. Their lessons were complete and she’d done marvelously and for the first time, he was actually looking forward to a ball.
But that wasn’t what was at issue here. Henry had come to care for Eve. Deeply care for her and the problem was, he didn’t know when it had happened, or even how. If anything, he’d always been guarded in his emotions, able to control even the slightest sentimental attachment to anyone. He’d never had time for such an inconvenience, and he certainly didn’t now.
Tomorrow was his mother’s ball and then he and Eve could get back to…well…however they were going to get on until she reached her majority.
Perhaps everyone was correct, in that Henry should install Eve in his mother’s home. Out of sight and out of temptation. Though, he wasn’t certain he wanted her so far away. It was only a few streets, of course, but she wouldn’t be here, where he could take care of her.
“I say, Kilsyth, I’ve not seen Miss Doyle since the races,” Pickmore announced. “Is she well?”
A full day had passed since she had spoken properly and then walked out of the library. Eve had not even joined him for supper last evening and she was absent from breakfast this morning.
“Mrs. Peade,” Henry yelled.
A moment later his housekeeper appeared. “Yes, Lord Kilsyth.”
“Is Miss Doyle well?”
The housekeeper blinked at him. “Of course.”
Henry focused on Pickmore. “You see, she is well.”
“Well, that’s good to hear.” Pickmore settled back and picked up a newssheet.
“If that will be all, I must deliver tea to the sitting room.”
“Yes, of course, go on,” Henry dismissed. “Tell me, Pickmore, did you find lodgings?”
He set the paper aside and brightened. “Why yes, I did. Not far from here.”
His gut tightened. Why did it bother him that Pickmore was leaving? They were friends, of course, but with Eve and Pickmore in his house, Henry had come to realize that he had lived a very solitary existence. Even though his closest friends were the Devils of Dalston, it wasn’t as if Henry had spent so much time with them. They all had their work for the Home Office and even though they’d established their notorious reputations years ago, they didn’t spend as much time in each other’s company or at functions and out in society. At least, not like they used to in the early days. He’d become too busy training those who would serve the crown abroad, and then his father and brother had died and the earldom was thrust upon him.
Having Pickmore and Eve in his home had been a distraction he needed, but now Pickmore would be gone and there was no longer any work to be done with Eve.
What the blazes was he to do with himself?
He did still need to bring her around to the idea of spying for him and all of England, a subject that had yet to be broached with Eve. However, the more he thought on the matter, the less Henry wanted to pursue it. He couldn’t put Eve in danger, which is what he’d be doing. The idea had been intriguing before, had potential and solved a problem that the Home Office had been grappling with for some time. However, it would not be his ward who did this work. Perhaps if Henry could be assured of her safety it would be different, but if Eve was ever suspected, or worse, caught relaying information, she would be in danger and thus possibly harmed, and that would never do.
“I’ll see if Miss Doyle is at home,” his butler’s voice bled in from the foyer.
Who the blazes was calling on Eve?
Henry pulled himself from his chair and walked to the entrance to find Mr. Francis Hilliard cooling his heels with a bouquet of freshly cut flowers in his right hand.
“Ah, Mr. Hilliard, you’ve come to call on Miss Doyle?” While it was Henry’s intention to be welcoming, he was unable to successfully mask the irritation in his tone.
