Gareth made his way out of London, then kicked his horse to a gallop. The speed gave some release to the frustration building in him. He had endured yet another restless night, tempted beyond reason to wind his way through the house to where Eva’s chamber lay.
He had not expected to mind so much how things now stood between them. She was of an age to be curious, aggressively so, and he had chosen to show her and teach her. If she had turned her back on pleasure sooner than he expected—or wanted, he admitted—it should not bother him the way it now did.
The truth was, he regretted arranging Eva’s invitation to the DeVere ball. When he did so, he anticipated her delight at his gift, and a pleasant night watching her bedazzlement. It had never occurred to him that other men might compete for her attention. Not because she did not deserve such attention, but because, he had to admit now, in his head she still belonged with him. To him.
Whitmere’s bald admiration of her made it clear just how bedazzled she might become. That ball would be full of lords and heirs. Gentlemen all, with strong lineage and extensive properties and titles. Oh, yes, it would not do to forget the titles. A title trumped everything, didn’t it?
He pictured the sons of the nobility lining up, asking Eva for dances, seeking favor with her. In that ballroom, among those people, being a bastard would matter as it rarely did in his life. Nor could he warn them all off the way he had done with Whitmere.
He had never envied his brothers before. At least not much. Not with the surly edge he did now as he came close to cursing his birth. The guilt that provoked in turn only fed his bad mood. All his life he had hoped he might one day claim his half brothers as true family in spirit if not in law. Today Lance had, without thinking twice, taken a big step toward that.I sometimes forget you are a bastard. Just remembering those words now moved him to where he reined in his mount and sat still with his thoughts.
Damnation, he could be an idiot at times. Only a fool wasted his life angry over what might have been. Nor had hiscircumstances left him impoverished or obscure. He might be a bastard, but he was a recognized one. With Percy gone, already his brothers had drawn closer. He turned his horse and rode back to town at a slower pace. He handed off his horse and entered Langley House. When he asked if Miss Russell had returned, the butler said she had, and was currently in the garden.
At the back of the house, he looked out a window. Eva sat on a terrace bench facing the back of the garden. It appeared she was sketching.
His mind saw her in her own garden. Forced to do a servant’s labor by necessity, the artist in her found joy in it, not humiliation. He guessed the gentry woman had too. In preserving that garden, she also preserved the woman she had been born to be.
He opened the door and went out to sit with her.
Eva turned at the sound of steps approaching. When she saw him, relief softened her expression. “Oh, it is you.”
“Did you expect someone else?” He sat beside her and angled his head to see what she drew.
“Mr. Geraldson. He sent up a note asking to speak with me here before dinner.”
“Lance’s secretary?”
“I know it sounds odd, but—” She set her sketchbook down on the bench between them. “This morning, an invitation came to Miss Russell. There is a ball next Tuesday. I think it was intended for my sister, but—”
“It was not. It was intended for you.”
“Did you arrange this? So I would have a grand night?”
“I did. Also, so I could as well. I will escort you, if you are agreeable. I trust you accepted.”
“I have not yet. I really did not come to town prepared for such a thing. Even Sarah’s wardrobe cannot make me suitable.Anyway, when I returned to the house today, Mr. Geraldson sent up a note asking to meet me out here regarding the DeVere ball. Is the duke going too?”
“Neither brother will attend, due to being in mourning. I believe Mr. Geraldson is going to bestow a gift on you, of a new ball gown. My brother mentioned you might decline because you did not bring the necessary wardrobe.”
“That is extremely generous of him, considering I have only seen him once in my life, and then for only a few minutes.”
“He has a generous heart. I would not be surprised if Mr. Geraldson will propose that you have a gown made, and that you send him the bill.”
“I am not sure that is proper.”
“Being a stickler again, are you?”
She laughed, then nodded.
“Aylesbury is not even going to be present that night. He is not going to dance with you, and he certainly is not going to act like you owe him something in return for the dress. In a way it is not even a gift from him, Eva. Think of it as a gift from the House of Aylesbury.”
She thought that over, half-convinced. “You do know how to tempt a woman, Gareth.”
“I should hope so. However, it is your choice. I will be proud to have you on my arm no matter what you wear.” A part of him, the part still carrying some of the annoyance that had led him to take that hard ride, hoped she would refuse the dress. If she appeared unfashionable, that should remove half the men from the line he imagined.
“I will think about it.” She looked away, into the garden. “Gareth, do all dukes have men like Mr. Geraldson, who broach matters like this for them, so the dukes do not have to do it themselves? Matters that might be seen as somewhat inappropriate, or even very much so?”
“I expect so. However, this gown is a small thing, and considering the circumstances, it will not compromise you. Now, if a man offers you a carriage, a house, and carte blanche in spending on jewels, then you might well suspect that he is trying to buy you.” He made a joke of it. Eva laughed, but her gaze turned serious.
