Hoping to calm him, she thought of changing the subject by saying, “The front page should interest you too.Doesn’t look like Mr.Benjamin Lawrence will be recovering from the fall he took last week.The poor man has lost the use of his legs completely.”
Adrian tilted his head, his gaze meeting hers so sharply she gasped.“You’ll need to be extra careful now,” he said.
“Because of Mr.Lawrence?”She couldn’t quite follow his logic.“I’m not sure I understand why a horse-riding accident—”
“Never mind Mr.Lawrence,” Adrian said.“I’m speaking of your safety with regard to the rot that’s been written about you.Let’s not forget that whoever murdered Miss Fairchild, Lady Camille, and Miss Irvine seems to have targeted them because they lacked morals.Let’s also not forget that he has yet to be apprehended.”
“Don’t you think he would have been if he were still out there?”Evelyn sipped her tea while considering.“It’s been so long since Miss Irvine’s death, I’m sure there’s no cause for further alarm.”
“Perhaps not,” Adrian agreed.“Nevertheless, I urge you to stay at home until I get to the bottom of this.”
“I have no issue with that.At present, socializing is the very last thing I’d like to do.”She dreaded getting the cut, of being whispered about behind her back, or facing the censure she knew she’d find the moment she left the house.
Unlike Adrian, to her, people’s opinions mattered.She wanted to be liked and knew she’d find it hard to ignore the response she was sure to receive because of some writer’s words.
“Do you suppose another debutante might have made up the story because they were jealous?”
“I’ve no idea.”He placed his hand over hers and gave it a squeeze.“Don’t fret, Evie.The matter will be resolved one way or the other, I assure you.”
But what if it wasn’t?What if she would forever after be known as the harlot from whom not just one man but two sought their pleasure last night?
“Good lord.”It suddenly felt as though there weren’t enough air for her to breathe.“Whatever will Marsdale think when he reads this?”
If there was one man in all of England whose opinion mattered to her beyond anyone else’s, it was his.
“I’m sure he’ll have the good sense to dismiss it as nonsense,” Adrian told her.
“You have to make sure.”She couldn’t bear the idea of Marsdale thinking ill of her for any reason.“Promise me you’ll call on him first.”
“My intention is to visitThe Morning Postfirst.I’ll stop by Marsdale House afterward.”He huffed a breath and seemed to make some effort to relax as he grabbed a slice of toast and proceeded to butter it.“Perhaps we should get away for a week - visit Deerhaven while the worst of the gossip dissipates.”
The suggestion pleased her immensely.The country estate would serve as a lovely distraction.“I’d like that.We could leave tomorrow after Miss Carmichael stops by for tea.”
“An excellent idea, Evie.I’ll leave you to manage the packing while I try to undo the damage done toward you.”
An acceptable plan that kept her mind off the problem for the better part of the day.Until a missive arrived for her in the early afternoon.Her fingers trembled as she tore the seal.The message was brief, yet wonderfully calming.If Adrian didn’t return home with answers, she now had the means to find them herself.
So she came to greet him as soon as she heard him arrive a while later.The somber expression he gave her, however, was far from uplifting.
“They’ve agreed to check the facts,” he said as soon as the two were alone in the parlor.“If they find them lacking, a retraction will follow.Until then, I’m afraid we’ll have to weather the storm.”
“Were you able to speak with the author directly?”
“No.”He muttered a curse.“The chief editor was extremely tight-lipped regarding her true identity.I’ve been assured that if the accusation made against you proves false, a public apology will follow, though it can take several days before this happens.I’m sorry, Evie.Truly.”
“What about Marsdale?”
“He’s outraged on your behalf.Doesn’t believe a word of what was printed.”
Evelyn breathed a sigh of relief.Thank goodness.“I’ve almost finished packing.What time would you like to set off tomorrow?”
“By three, provided Miss Carmichael has departed by then.”
Evelyn agreed and went to collect the novel she wanted to read on the journey.The rest of the day passed without incident.Dinner was served at seven o’clock, according to the same routine they’d followed while Papa lived.They enjoyed a glass of port in the music room afterward where she played one of Haydn’s sonatas at the pianoforte.
By nine thirty, she expressed her exhaustion and bid her brother good night before removing herself to her bedchamber.There she collected the missive she had received in the afternoon, grabbed her cloak, and descended the service stairs at the back of the house.
Moving swiftly while taking care to keep silent, she crossed to the terrace door, unlocked it, and slipped out into the chilly night air.The path to the fence at the end of the garden seemed more uneven in the darkness.She tripped a couple of times and fought the urge to cry out, lest anyone hear her.
