Page 122 of Outrageous

“He’s far better behaved than Jibril was at this age,” Mia said, nodding to the nursemaid who was sitting in the window seat with her mending. “Can you take him to bed, Mary. I’m afraid we have some serious wedding-gown business to attend to.”

Once the maid was gone Mia turned to her daughter and smiled. “Julia asked to be here when you tried on your bridal gown, didn’t you, darling?”

Julia nodded her reddish-brown head vigorously and Eva grinned and squeezed her hand. “All right, I guess I’d better get about it.”

Mia’s maid helped her into the gown, which even she had to admit was lovely. It was an unusual shade of blue and she couldn’t help noticing it made her eyes appear larger and more violet.

Knowing Eva’s hatred of lace and ribbons and furbelows, the gown had a simple, snug, low-cut satin bodice with a narrow skirt that had a single thin petticoat. The only adornment was a wide blue velvet ribbon that ran beneath her bosom. The effect was to accentuate her figure, which she knew was a much admired hourglass. For all that she generally found her overlarge breasts an inconvenience, they looked rather nice sitting within the tight bodice, the tops of them creamy swells.

When she came out into Mia’s sitting room, both her stepmamma’s and Julia’s mouths formed comical O’s.

Eva glanced down and saw a flush spreading across her prominently displayed breasts.

“Mamma, Eva looks like a princess.”

Eva’s face was scorching.

Mia nodded. “Yes, darling, she does.” To Eva she said, “I know your father has a necklace that belonged to your mother. It is a pretty thing—a thin silver chain with a beautifully wrought, lacy cross. I will have him send it to your room. Whether you wear it on your wedding day or not, I think you should have it.”

Eva nodded, unable to speak for fear of blubbering. Trust her stepmamma to think of her predecessor, a scorned woman who’d been dead for almost a decade and a half and whom nobody mourned. She swallowed convulsively and turned so abruptly she stepped on her hem and heard a familiar ripping sound. She stopped and shook her head, disgusted and disheartened and simply tired of being her.

She heard a rustle behind her and the soft click of a door before Mia came up and took her into an embrace. They were almost the same size, but her stepmother always felt so much more substantial.

“It is only a small tear, Eva, and easily fixed.”

Eva nodded. “Thank you for thinking about my mother.” She swallowed yet again, but could not stop the tears from trickling down her cheeks. Lord, but she’d been a watering pot these past weeks.

“I know she would have been very proud of you—of all three of you. Any mother would.”

“Do you think I am like her? Will I become like her?” The words were so soft, Eva could barely hear them.

Mia’s arms tightened. “I think you are like Eva—and there is nobody else in the world quite like you. I cannot speak for your mother—other than looks, and you are indeed as she was, one of the great beauties of your age. But I can speak for your father. You are not him, Eva. While you have some of his characteristics—your loyalty, your intense need for privacy, and your keen, ready wit—there are many parts of you that are your own. This life you are living is your own—not your mother’s or your father’s. For years Adam hid from his life. And your mother, Veronica? She was driven to end hers by demons none of us can ever know.”

Mia turned Eva around, which was when Eva realized there were tears in her brilliant green eyes. Her stepmamma was truly lovely, but her face bore evidence of a life that had not always been easy. Strands of white mingled with her vibrant copper hair. And the lines around her eyes were deep—laughter and sadness combined—the signs of a life thoroughly lived.

“I hope you live your life to the fullest, Eva. I believe your mother would have had the same hope for you.” And then she took Eva in her arms and let her cry. Great wracking sobs for the woman she had never known.

* * *

“I beg your pardon, Eva, but have you gone quite mad?”

Eva cocked an eyebrow at Tommy’s question, aware of the exact instant when he realized what he’d just said.

“Ah, Christ!” He scrubbed a bare, pale, exquisitely manicured hand over his face, pressing his fingers against his eyelids. “I didn’t mean that, Eva.”

“I know you didn’t.” Lord, but she was exhausted. She’d wanted to go back to bed after speaking with Mia, but she owed Tommy—and everyone else—better.

So, here she was, engaging in a second emotional episode before dinnertime.

She grabbed Tommy’s wrist and pulled his punishing fingers off their delicate targets. “What has happened to us? We never used to spend every moment together arguing.”

He sighed and leaned back against the bookshelf.

He’d been in the library with Mel when she’d gone looking for him. The two had been sitting at a respectable distance across from each other, on their own settees, each cradling an open book in their lap. The atmosphere in the room had been . . . Well, Eva didn’t know what it had been—charged perhaps. When Eva apologized for interrupting and had asked Tommy for a moment, Mel had almost fled from the room.

“Is aught amiss with Mel?” she asked now, as they both strove to recover from what she’d just told him: that she would not marry him.

“Hmm?” His eyes were on the monstrous fireplace, which even at this time of year needed to be kept burning to banish the chill from a room made entirely of stone.