The Devil's Bargain Page 16

  Marianne sighed and looked gratefully at her. “Oh, you do not know what it has been like! I do not like to admit it, but what is the good of keeping one’s stupid pride when it comes to practical things? I have had to scrape and save and do all I could to keep everything as it should be, and that is not enough, I know.”

  Eveline bade her to sit down on a chair, while she herself curled up on the bed.

  “And Richard! He has changed so since coming home,” Marianne continued. “He was used to be so merry! But I am sure it is the shame of Father committing suicide—there, I have shocked you, have I not?” She paused and gazed at Eveline, as if waiting for a reaction.

  “Yes, a little,” Eveline replied calmly. She was shocked, but compassion stirred her as well, and her heart went out to Marianne—and to Richard. It could not be easy to live with such a thing; many people thought it a disgrace and a blot on one’s family’s reputation. “But that is past now, and you must go on as best you can.”

  Marianne relaxed in her chair. “Yes, that is what I think also. Richard does not know I know about Father, but how could I not hear it? And Father rarely spoke to me those last few days. Do you suppose it must have been some reverses on the ’Change? I do not know much about such things,” she said in reply to Eveline’s surprised look. “But since he mentioned something about not being able to sell out of funds or some such, I suppose our accounts have not done well.”

  “No, it seems not.” The London Stock Exchange had been volatile, reflected Eveline; fortunes were made and lost on a retreat or advance of an army. “It has not been wise to speculate in the past years, unless one has a large fund of money to start with.”

  “Father never had, it seems to me.” Marianne shook her head. “And now we have come to measuring out tea with a scale, and using it over and over again until the taste of it is gone out altogether.” She smiled resolutely and lifted her chin in an unconscious, defiant manner. “But I have done very well, though Richard does not like it. I am actually a very superior governess, did he tell you?”

  “No, he did not.”

  Marianne looked disgusted. “He wouldn’t! He has become so stuffily prideful since he came back from the Peninsula—almost as much as Papa had been! But the Earl of Wyvern is paying me a wonderful wage to teach his daughters. I do not know why they have had such difficulties retaining governesses in the past. Sarah and Stephanie are such sweet girls, and very lively and spirited.”

  Eveline smiled widely. She suspected that their liveliness was exactly what had made it so difficult.

  “No doubt they have seen the error of their ways under your tutelage,” she said, keeping her voice carefully neutral.

  Marianne gave her a suspicious look, and then laughed aloud. “I do like you! It is such a relief to have someone to tease and joke with again.”

  “Well, I am sure you are a very good governess and Lord Wyvern must think you fully deserve the wage you receive.”

  A blush grew on Marianne’s cheeks, and she averted her face.

  Eveline smiled. “He is a very gentlemanly sort of person, it seems to me. Indeed, he was most pleasant both times we have met,” she said.

  Marianne gazed at her eagerly. “Oh, do you think so? He has been all that is amiable and kind to me. I sometimes think … No, I am sure he must have offered me this position as governess from kindness, although he couched it in such terms so as to save me from any embarrassment. And you must not think he has any designs on me! He always has a maid stay in the schoolroom with me, even though I am sure the girls are company enough. The maid rarely leaves me alone with him, and then it is only for a minute or so. He has my own footman wait for me so that I may be escorted home safely, as well. So you see it is quite proper, and done from the kindness of his heart.”

  Eveline agreed gravely, although she turned her face away to hide a smile. It was clear from Marianne’s artless speech that Wyvern was not without tender feelings toward the governess he had hired. Why else would he have extended such an invitation to Marianne, who, she was sure, had little experience in the teaching of children, regardless of how well she was doing with the girls now? And why else was he taking such special pains to ensure that no opportunity for scandal touch the young woman? A grin threatened to spread across Eveline’s face. He must be thoroughly frustrated now, however, if he had any wish to court Marianne! There was no way he could do so while she was under his roof and his employee.

  A sigh from Marianne made Eveline look at her again.

  “But Richard does not like him. I do not know why! We have been neighbors forever, and though we never saw much of him when we were growing up, he has never done us wrong.” Marianne shrugged carelessly, though a frustrated frown crossed her face. “Perhaps it is because of that old dispute over the south stream Father used to have with Wyvern’s father, but Wyvern acceded that to us after I talked with him about it last year. Richard has not been the same. I suppose I have changed, too, since our circumstances are now different.”

  Looking at the young woman’s discontented face, Eveline wondered if there was some way she could promote a match between the two. She would have to think on it. She smiled to herself. Perhaps there was some way she could accompany Marianne to Wyvern’s estate and give them some opportunity to meet away from the schoolroom.

  The clock struck, and Marianne jumped. “Oh, dear, it is near suppertime, and I must prepare for it.” She went to the door and turned to Eveline with a smile. “I will send Jeanie up to you to help you change.”

  “Thank you,” Eveline said, and Marianne left. Eveline stared at the closed door, pondering her situation. She was used to taking on challenges, as she had when her father had been so ill. She was sure there was something she could do to help Richard and Marianne. Looking about her room, she noticed a little desk with paper and writing implements upon it. She would write to her father’s solicitors and request a copy of the settlements agreed upon between her father and Richard’s solicitors. They were used to such requests for information from her, and they would send them, she was sure. That, however, could wait until tomorrow. Perhaps it would even be a good idea to survey the estate as well as the house and see the totality of what needed to be done.

  The maid knocked and entered the room, and Eveline carefully chose a dress from the wardrobe; she was thankful she had thought to send at least a few of her clothes before her to Clairmond Hall. She sighed. Most of the clothes she had brought were of a design that was more fashionable than what she was sure Marianne owned. Eveline selected a round gown of simple cut, hoping that it would be plain enough not to put Marianne to the blush.

  But when she descended for supper, she saw that her efforts were as naught. For though Marianne had clearly put on what was the least worn, the least faded of her dresses, it looked shabby next to Eveline’s. She saw Marianne look at her own dress and surreptitiously glance at Eveline’s, and a wistful expression came over her face. Eveline’s heart ached for her, but she did not want to draw any notice to their differences, so she said nothing of it.

  She asked questions of the estate, instead—innocuous questions about their childhoods, and where they had roamed. It was not just for politeness’ sake, either. Since she had never lived in the country, but always in town, the descriptions of their antics, their pranks and wanderings upon the estate fascinated her.

  “Could you show me these places?” she asked. “The oak tree you climbed, Richard, and the lake in which you swam and got nipped by the turtle, Marianne? I would so much like to see them.”

  Marianne threw Richard a disgusted look. “You have got for yourself the best wife possible, Richard! See how she agrees with you it was a turtle, and not your fingers that pinched my leg!”

  Richard gave her an innocent look. “Well, of course.”

  Eveline laughed, glad she could, for a moment, make them forget their worries. They removed to the parlor afterward, dispensing with the formality of Richard enjoying his port by himself. He w
ent with them instead, and they continued their jokes and banter until Marianne abruptly yawned.

  “Oh, my, but I do feel tired.” She gave another yawn and looked from her brother to Eveline and back again, and seemed to come to some decision. “I, for one, have much to do tomorrow, and must get my sleep. I hope you will excuse me if I seek my bed.” Before they could murmur more than brief good nights she went quickly to the door—but not without a last laughing look at her brother.

  Richard gazed at the door closing behind his sister, a speculative expression on his face. Eveline raised her brows at him, and he said, “I am merely thinking that my dear little sister is having some romantical notions.” He rose from his chair and took her hand. “Are you tired? Shall I escort you to your room?”

  Eveline blushed lightly. “A little tired, perhaps. If it would not inconvenience you, I would like your company. I am not at all sure I would be able to find my way to my room quite yet.” She stood up, and he put her hand on his arm. Suddenly nervous, she felt she could not look at him and looked instead at the floor in front of her as she walked.

  “You must excuse my sister’s abrupt departure. She is a mischievous minx.” His voice held a suggestion of laughter.

  “Of course,” Eveline replied. “She is no doubt thinking our marriage is quite romantic, and I think perhaps she might have a tendre toward someone herself.” She managed to look up at him briefly.

  He had a concerned look in his eyes. “Do you think so? That she has an interest in someone?”

  “Perhaps. Most young ladies fancy a young gentleman from time to time.” Eveline looked away, remembering the expression she had seen in Marianne’s eyes whenever she had gazed upon the Earl of Wyvern, and how the earl had been so careful of her reputation. She considered the undercurrents of animosity between Richard and Wyvern and thought it politic not to speak of the state of Marianne’s emotions just then.

  “Did you? Fancy a gentleman from time to time, that is?” Richard asked. They had stopped before a door, and Eveline recognized it as the one to her chambers. He opened the door for her.

  Eveline felt compelled to look up at him again. There was a question in his eyes, beyond the words he had spoken.

  “Once,” she said. He lifted his hand, and she felt it touch her cheek gently. She closed her eyes at the caress.

  “Was it I?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  She opened her eyes again. “I believed there was more worth of character in you than there were in other men I had met. And … you seemed to care for me.”

  Pain appeared to cross his features for a moment, then he pressed his lips upon hers. “I swear I will prove my worth to you once again, Eveline. I swear it.”

  And your love? she thought, but could say nothing, for he kissed her again; his kisses were intoxicating, and she lost herself in them. It was not she, therefore, who drew away at last, but Richard. He looked at her, and he drew in a breath.

  “I think … I think it is time for us to retire.” He almost pushed himself away from her to the door next to hers.

  Eveline looked at him, bewildered. “Of course,” was all she could say. She moved into her room automatically, and Nurse Conny, who had come before her, and who had laid out her nightgown, was there waiting to help her undress. Nurse chattered away, congratulating her on her wedding, and commenting on how fine a day it had been for it, but Eveline paid little heed.

  Would he come to her tonight? Eveline felt her face become warm at the thought. She slipped into her bed and drew the covers over her thin lawn gown. Of course he would, she thought. They were married now, and it was right and proper that she submit to her husband’s embraces. Nurse had told her all about it the night before at her father’s house, and though Eveline blushed remembering the last time she had submitted to Richard’s embraces, she admitted it would not be something she’d find unwelcome. And yet, she still felt awkward and nervous, unready for a married life.

  “Conny, tell me a story.” The words slipped from her before she could think, but she knew it was the right thing to ask. It would be a last farewell of her old life, before she would fit herself into the title of viscountess.

  Nurse looked at her in surprise. “A story, Miss Evie? My lady, I should say!”

  “No, no, Conny, just for now at least I can be Evie. I feel … nervous. You know how one of your stories always comforted me.”

  “But ’tis your wedding night! I cannot be here when Lord Clairmond … That is to say … Oh, heavens, Miss Evie!” Nurse blustered, and a blush reddened her cheeks as she glanced at the connecting door.

  Eveline blushed also, but laughed. “You needn’t worry. I am sure he will knock before he enters, and I will give you plenty of time to leave before he opens the door.” She extended her hand to her old nurse and clasped her hand tightly. “Just this once, and then you may save your stories for the future.”

  Nurse gave one last glance at the connecting door and gingerly sat herself down on the chair next to the bed. “Sure and it’s a silly thing to ask me, for all you’re a lady grown now, and not a child!” She sighed. “But I’m that foolish, Miss Evie, to want to tell you tales one last time.”

  Smilingly gratefully, Eveline settled herself down into the pillows and listened to the rise and fall of Nurse Connor’s hushed voice. She told more than one story, tales of the wee folk, of saints and the devil, of promises kept and broken, and souls lost and won. They were the tales of Nurse’s childhood, and now they were the tales Eveline would always remember from her own. At last Eveline’s eyes drooped, as they used to when she was a little girl with Nurse by her side.

  “There you are, drowsing as you always did when you were a child!” Nurse Conny said, glancing at the clock and rising hastily to her feet. “That’s enough of stories—I’m ashamed I let myself tell such childish things to you, Miss Eveline, and that’s a fact!”

  Eveline opened her eyes wide again and smiled. “Thank you, Conny. I’m glad you did. I just wanted to remember one last time how you told them.”

  “Eh, and you’ll be telling your own wee ones, some day soon, I’ll warrant you,” Nurse said, smiling mistily at her former charge. “Well! I’ll be wishing you a good night, miss—my lady!” Dabbing sentimentally at her eyes, Nurse doused the candles before she left, except for one by Eveline’s bed.

  The candle dimly lit the connecting door. The warm spell Nurse had woven over Eveline with her stories faded. The new Lady Clairmond waited, wondering if Richard would come, deciding he would not, and hoping that he would. But as the night grew longer, and as the candle burned down, she laid her head upon her pillow and wept, certain he would not.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Richard shifted this way and that in his bed, tangling his bedclothes and then sitting up to untwist them, only to lie down and wind them around himself once more. He thought of Eveline next door, thought of her lips when he kissed them, and remembered how soft her skin had been when he had touched her at the cottage. The cottage. It seemed an age since they had been there, kissed, tangled themselves in the old quilt just as he now tangled himself up in his own bed, empty but for himself alone.

  He could not get his thoughts away from her, thoughts of how she was his wife now, how he by the laws of land and church was permitted to touch her all he wanted. And yet he was not worthy of even the kiss he had taken before he left her at her door. He winced at the thought, twisting the sheets once more around him.

  But she had not resisted at all and had given him a kiss for each of his own. He would have thought she’d feel repulsed by him, that somehow she must sense the chill of Teufel’s influence over him. Certainly the cloying unease had been tangible to himself, having manifested itself as an icy block of tightness in the pit of his stomach. But Eveline had acted as if there was nothing at all but his own self, whole, within her arms, and not a man whose soul would not ever be hers, much less his own.

  Perhaps there was nothing to sense. Th
e thought flared in his mind like a fire in the night. He had heard nothing, sensed nothing from Teufel since the seduction of Eveline. Richard had married her, and still there was nothing. Perhaps … perhaps in defying Teufel and marrying her, he had voided their bargain.

  His body eased into the mattress again, shifting only slightly so that he was comfortable. Indeed, he had received no money from Teufel, not as he had promised so as to improve the estate at all. The unnatural cold he had felt was gone; it had not come over him since he had decided to come back to Eveline.

  He sighed, and hope flowed into him. He would find some way on his own to improve the estate, even if it meant he had to work in the dirt at the side of his tenants to do so. Eveline had not disdained his home when she entered it, despite its run-down state, and she had not been embarrassed at Marianne’s admission that she helped in the kitchens. She was a merchant’s daughter; work and trade were not scandalous words to her. He smiled to himself. Marianne had been correct; he had wed the right woman, indeed.

  Richard rose then, determined to go to Eveline, to tell her he was grateful for her acceptance. He paused, for the light of the fire in the grate reflected on the face of the clock on the wall and showed him it was quite late. No doubt Eveline was already asleep. And yet, he felt he must see her, if only to know she slept quietly, and was not turbulently awake as he had been.

  The connecting door opened smoothly and quietly. Richard could see her slight form within the bed, for one side of the canopy was drawn back. It seemed she slept, for one slim arm rested upon her forehead and her eyes were closed. Sighing, he decided he would not disturb her even with a kiss, but then the light of his candle caught a line of gleaming wetness upon her cheek. He drew in a breath, as if from a sudden sharp pain. She had been weeping. He hoped it was not because of him or their marriage; he hoped it was only homesickness. But he could not help touching the trail of the tear down her cheek gently with his thumb. And when she opened her eyes, startled at first, and then full of the light of gladness, he could not help kissing first those eyes, then her cheek on which he had found the trail of tears, and then her delectable mouth, which moved upon his own with a fierce eagerness he had only once experienced, more than a month ago at the abandoned cottage.