Mr. Hilliard swallowed, a bit uncomfortably. “Yes, Lord Kilsyth. Should I have sought your permission first?”
Did this young whelp actually believe he was good enough to court Eve?
Ridiculous.
“Of course not. Miss Doyle can make her own decisions on who she wishes to visit.”
“I hope that she’s recovered her voice,” Hilliard offered anxiously.
“I believe so,” Henry answered absently.
Hilliard’s smile grew with anticipation. It reminded him of a child being taken to Gunters for an ice.
There was very little to recommend Hilliard. From what Henry had surmised, Hilliard had no purpose other than to be ordered about by his mother. Those soft hands probably had never done a day’s work in their life, and that included holding the reins of a horse. He was a dandy, more concerned with his appearance and place in society, and with little substance to his personality.
Eve would chew him up and spit him out within twenty-four hours if they wed. If Hilliard was in search of a wife, he’d be better served with a simpering, giggling debutant, not someone as magnificent at Eve.
“Miss Doyle apologizes, Mr. Hilliard, but she is not feeling up to visitors today.”
The pup deflated right before Henry’s eyes.
“Would you please give these to her?” Hilliard thrust the flowers out to the butler. “And tell her that I look forward to continuing our acquaintance when she is feeling better.”
“Of course, Mr. Hilliard.” The butler took the flowers and opened the door for their guest to exit.
“Good day, Lord Kilsyth.”
“Yes, good day, Hilliard.”
“I’ll have a maid put these in a vase for Miss Doyle,” the butler announced before he disappeared in the direction of the kitchens, leaving Henry to ponder what had just occurred.
Was Eve not interested in Hilliard courting her or was Mrs. Peade incorrect that Eve was well?
No, Mrs. Peade would know if Eve was not up to visitors. It was clear that his ward was showing good sense in not encouraging that whelp. After the ball, she’d have more suitable gentlemen wishing to call on her, take her for drives in the park, and all manner of entertainments.
His stomach unexpectedly knotted at the very idea of another gentleman courting Eve.
This was what he wanted, wasn’t it? For Eve to be courted and settled, then he could continue with his work without interruption.
Of course it was, Henry lied to himself. However, as she was sure to be a success tomorrow evening, the suitors would no doubt be lining up on his doorstep the following day, and the very reason why Eve should remain in his home. While his mother would be better suited for supervising such visits, Henry was Eve’s guardian and in a better position to determine if any gentleman was worthy of his ward. After all, who knew a gentleman’s reputation better than a Devil of Dalston and what knowledge Henry didn’t already possess could be learned by either him or one of his friends. It was up to Henry to protect Eve from the unsavory.
* * *
Eve glanced at the flowers from Mr. Hilliard. They were lovely with the pinks, lavenders and whites, and she truly was flattered, however, she had no desire to be courted by Hilliard. The only gentleman she wished to receive flowers from was Kilsyth.
She quickly suppressed her longing. He’d made it very clear after the kiss that he had no wish to further their relationship, which was the very reason why she’d avoided him for nearly two days now. If he’d wished her assistance with his correspondence, Kilsyth would have sent for her, yet he hadn’t, so he clearly wished for there to be nothing further between them. However, she must face him now as they were scheduled to leave for his mother’s ball.
“You look lovely, Miss Doyle,” a maid commented and Eve took in her appearance one last time. She’d never worn a gown so fine before, there hadn’t been any reason to. She’d been too young to enter Society when her father died and then Brendan lost everything. In fact, Eve assumed she’d never wear anything so fine, including the jewelry Kilsyth had borrowed from his mother. With her hair curled and diamonds sparkling about her neck and ears, Eve felt nothing less than a princess.
With a deep breath, she turned and accepted the wrap and sent a quiet prayer that her speech was what Kilsyth wished and that no mistakes were made tonight.
Even though she’d not met with her guardian to continually review the sentences, she had spent her afternoons speaking with Mrs. Peade, when she was free. At other times, she had practiced polite conversation with the butler and both servants assured Eve that nobody would ever guess she was from Ireland. Eve prayed they were correct.
As the maid opened the door, Eve glided out of her chamber and down the stairs until she reached the library where she knew Kilsyth waited with Captain Pickmore. As she entered, both stared, neither saying a word.
Was something wrong with her appearance? She’d checked in the mirror right before she came down.
Pickmore tossed back the remains of his drink. “I say, Miss Doyle, you look quite lovely.”
