Always a Maiden (The Belles of Beak Street #5)(35)

Lord Hull hadn’t finished though. “He is the only man I know, who’s had a wife fall to her death from a castle battlement. Four wives in thirty odd years is not what I’d consider a healthy situation for said wives.”

“I thought it was three,” she squeaked. Something cold ran through her like a frozen river.

Lord Hull patted her hand that was clutching at his arm like a clawing bird. “Fairly certain it is four.”

She deliberately relaxed her grip. Probably he was wrong. Besides people died. Women had the added risk of childbirth. One never expected it to be oneself, but if there were anything nefarious happening, at the very least, there would be rumors. More likely there would be charges. Doubtless, Lord Farringate had been incredibly unlucky.

They walked in silence for a bit. Her head spun with concerns. Her parents would know. Or perhaps she should demand an explanation.

Just as they were completing the final leg of their circuit, Lord Hull said, “Mr. Cooper’s expectations are not quite as dire as you think they are.”

“W-what?” Mr. Cooper had no expectations that she knew.

“You should ask him about it,” said Lord Hull.

Because obviously, Lord Hull wanted nothing to do with her. She tried to tease him, but even to her own ears her voice sounded desperate instead of teasing, “You couldn’t use ten thousand pounds, yourself, Lord Hull?”

He blinked three times before he tried to stammer out a response.

She smiled as if it didn’t matter. “I am bamming you.” Obviously, her lessons in passion hadn’t taught her to flirt. She would have been better served if she had asked Evan to teach her how to flirt. “I would never suggest that any gentleman marry me for my dowry.”

He gave her a relieved smile. “You’re not half bad, Lady Susanah.”

Oh, to be damned with faint praise. “Thank you so much for the dance and the chat. You have given me much to think on.”

He led her the last few steps to her mother’s side and bowed. “It was my pleasure, my lady.”



*

Evan returned home uncertain of whether or not Lady Susanah would show up the evening after next. He picked up the one piece of correspondence his man must have placed on the table in his bare rooms. Most of his clothing resided in the two trunks that sat by the door. His personal items had been removed, packed, or sold. His coach had hit the auction block too. He’d decided to keep his phaeton instead of the coach for Gilbert’s sake. But he couldn’t pick up Lady Susanah in the phaeton tomorrow night. One didn’t drive in an open carriage after dark in London. It would be remarked upon. They could, however, ride horses. That would be unusual, but less so than walking or riding in a phaeton.

He’d told Susanah to wear boots. He’d have to lease a mount for her. Since he couldn’t recall ever seeing her on horseback in all the years in London, he’d find a gentle mare. She’d said she enjoyed riding her pony as a child. Perhaps riding a horse in London was something her mother frowned upon. It was hard to remain wooden on a horse, so that might be why she never rode in the city.

He’d order a generous basket of food, in case she was still on bread and water.

He looked down at the letter in his hand and realized with a pang of guilt that it was from his uncle. He should have left town two weeks ago as he’d originally intended. He could have packed, settled all his outstanding tickets with the tradesmen, the landlord, the stable, and the nearby pubs, as well as sold his unneeded possessions in a week if he’d set his mind to it. Instead, he’d spent more time planning ways to evoke emotion in Lady Susanah, to learn what she hid from everyone, even herself.

What he found was that under her rigorous discipline was a woman who had lashed down passion and joy so tightly she no longer knew what it was to be happy. And that he had an unprecedented desire to cheer her.

Unfolding the sheets, he scanned to make certain no ill had befallen Gilbert or Uncle Phillip. Instead, he found his uncle entirely sympathetic acceptance of his delay. His uncle relayed that Gilbert was hoping that Evan was pursuing a wife.

All of which only served to deepen his guilt.

But his uncle’s next words made him suck in a deep breath.

I do hope you will not delay marriage as long as I did.

What? His uncle expected him to marry?

Evan fell more than sat in the ladder-back chair. Granted, it was fairly obvious that the title would pass to him one distant day, but he hadn’t thought Uncle Phillip wanted him to marry as long as Gilbert was alive.

Then again, his uncle had not married young. Evan knew, as all the family did, that Uncle Phillip had been the second son and hadn’t expected to inherit the barony. He’d been in the horse guards for more than twenty years. A tragic boating accident had wiped out two generations of men in one day and Uncle Phillip had resigned his commission to take up the title. Then he’d married his childhood sweetheart. Their only child had been Gilbert.

His uncle wrote about not having enough time with his wife. They should have married years earlier. Not only would they have had more time together, but the doctors had told him that children like Gilbert often came from older mothers. Although his uncle could marry again, he had no desire to and certainly not to marry some child bride just to get another heir.

Evan skimmed through the ramblings. But certain sentences jumped out at him.