“Oh, she’ll be there. In fact, I have no doubt she’ll be waiting for you to call.” At that, Pickmore stood. “Get some rest, Kilsyth. You are going to need your strength.”
What the bloody hell did Pickmore mean by that? Henry would have asked, but the man was gone before he could.
* * *
When the last student who’d become ill left their bed, Eve knew that soon Kilsyth would be darkening the doorstep of the Wiggons’ School for Elegant Young Ladies. He’d come all this way to take her back to London and Eve wasn’t so foolish to think that he’d leave without calling on her to convince her to return with him.
He probably assumed he could order her back to Mayfair since he was her guardian and until the time, she reached her majority had the power to dictate where she’d live.
And, as Eve had predicted, when tea time arrived, so did Lord Kilsyth to call on her.
Instead of greeting him immediately, Eve returned to the chamber she now shared with Cait to check her appearance. After she’d seen her reflection after leaving Kilsyth that afternoon, she’d been appalled at her appearance. She’d not make the same mistake again. Though it might make little difference in how the two got on, having her hair in place, color in her cheeks, and a modest, yet clean and wrinkle free dress made all the difference in her confidence. It was her armor and all that she had.
When she entered, Kilsyth was standing at a window, looking out, and Eve took another moment to compose herself. She’d not give in to emotion. Though her love simmered just below the surface, along with it was her irritation and anger. At this moment, however, she feared which one would boil over first and prayed that none of them did and that when he did leave here, any association the two shared would be broken. The only connection to be shared was that of guardian and ward, from a distance, and only until Eve achieved her majority and with no need for the two of them to interact until that time.
“I’m pleased to see that you’ve fully recovered,” Eve announced coolly as she entered the sitting room.
Kilsyth slowly turned, his grey eyes growing dark in his study of her.
Eve’s breath hitched. Keeping her emotions in check might be a little more difficult than she’d hoped.
The maid entered a moment later and set a tea service in the middle of the table. Eve moved forward to pour, anything to occupy her hands.
“I know you prefer coffee, but Mrs. Wiggons does not keep any in stock.”
“Tea will do.” Kilsyth took the seat opposite Eve, his study just as intent, as he took the offered cup.
Eve then prepared her own, the uncomfortable silence stretching between them.
“Why did you leave?”
“I’d served my purpose and was no longer of use to you,” she answered and took a sip of tea.
He frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“You’d won your wager. I performed well, which was clear in how you and Pickmore celebrated and congratulated yourselves after the ball.”
His eyes widened and Kilsyth leaned forward. “Is it because we did not compliment you as well?”
“It doesn’t really matter, if you must know.” Except it had. That night had crushed her as the two had carried on as if she hadn’t exist.
“I’m sorry. My treatment of you was callous, but it was not without reason.”
Other than he’s an arse. Yet Eve said nothing. Just simply lifted an eyebrow and sipped her tea.
“I’d like you to come back.”
“Why?”
“Because we do well together.”
Eve snorted. She knew why he really wanted her to return to London but she’d not let on just yet. “You wish for someone to fetch your slippers, tidy your office and to act as secretary. I am not so special. Anyone could be hired to do those tasks.”
Kilsyth leaned forward, intensity returning to his grey eyes. “But youare, Eve. You are special.”
“As your ward.”
“No, I don’t care about any of that.” He set his tea cup aside. “You are special for other reasons.” He stood and began to pace.
