An Earl's Guide to Catch a Lady (6 page)

Evelyn gasped in outrage. A moment passed as they stood and glared at each other. To her shock his hand reached up to cup her cheek but fell away before it made contact. Without another word he turned and left, but paused at the door and said, “You deserve each other.”

Evelyn watched as he slammed the door behind him through a vision of tears. She wiped at them furiously. Her suspicions of his birth had been proven correct. He was a Lord. She turned toward the window to stare at the courtyard, watching as moments later, Matthew appeared, shouting at his groom furiously while he mounted his horse. He shot one last glance in her direction and set out, riding out of her life. She continued to stare even as he disappeared from sight.

She should have boxed his ears at the insult, but she had deserved it. It still hadn’t hurt any less. She couldn’t blame him. She would have thought the same had she been him. It did however surprise her that he believed her lie so easily. He had not even demanded, well, anything actually.

Her brows drew together.

Again Evelyn had the sense that something seemed off. And again she couldn’t put a finger on it. He had left rather suddenly, and if he returned before dawn he would be a force to be reckoned with. Evelyn sighed heavily. She should never have lied. But as she would depart tonight the point was moot. She wouldn’t see him when he returned, if he indeed, returned.

It would be so easy for him to learn that she lied about being betrothed. If he then dug deeper he would find that St. Aldwyn, while still a happy bachelor, was however acquainted with Simon Tremaine, Earl of Westfield, who has a sister named Evelyn Tremaine.

Evelyn started to pace the length of the room. He would be back. She was certain of it. But what could be the driving force of his determination? A sense of duty perhaps? Whatever the case may be, she needed to make haste. Now. Her heart pinched in protest, but she ignored it. It would not do to grieve for things that could never be.

Matthew dismounted his horse in front of The Black Knight Inn long before dawn, just in case Evelyn tried to slip away. He hadn’t lied when he said he had business to attend to. From the first moment they met, something about her nagged at the back of his mind. So he’d ridden out to Bath to confirm his suspicions. His jaw hardened. She was no other than Evelyn Tremaine, sister to his oldest friend, the Earl of Westfield, Simon Tremaine.

Well, former friend.

Despite this, no one could confirm whether she was indeed betrothed to the Marquis of St. Aldwyn. He knew the bastard well. And he hated him with every fiber of his being. And to his belief, St. Aldwyn would never settle down. But because of the connection to Westfield, he could not be certain whether she’d fabricated the entire story or told the truth.

She hadn’t been honest about her identity, so perhaps she’d lied about the betrothal. In fact, he was quite certain everything that came out of that seductive little mouth of hers comprised of half-truths. Indeed, she’d even deceived him about meeting St. Aldwyn, for he happened not to be in Bath. Neither was Westfield or any other relative of the Tremaine family.
So where the hell is she going? And why is she traveling alone?

None of this changed the fact that she had misled him. For her sake, he hoped her betrothal was a ruse. Or it meant that once again, St. Aldwyn appeared to be involved with a woman Matthew desired.

“Hell."

Matthew raked a trembling hand through his disheveled hair. Exhaustion circled his eyes and anger pulsed in his blood. No, Matthew thought darkly, anger was too mild a description for what he felt. He wanted to lash out at something—or someone in particular. That was the only reason why he didn’t break down her door. He needed to get his emotions under control. He might still decide to strangle her for her deception, but if he saw her now, he would make an utter fool of himself.

And he hated that he needed to hear her admit St. Aldwyn was not her betrothed and that she would not leave him. Matthew did not know which thought scared him more, the latter or the former. He glanced up to where he knew Evelyn’s room to be. Nothing would please him more than curling around her body and holding her until she left the world of dreams and came back him. He shook his head sharply. What had the damn woman done to him? With long purposeful strides he strode through the entrance and settled in the dining room, a predator waiting for its prey.

Her head pounded something fierce. It was becoming an unwelcome habit, entertaining herself with drink. Sinking deeper into the tub, warm water coming up to her neck, she let her lashes drift shut and listened to the activities outside. Ah bliss. It was still early, yet people sounded everywhere, their voices drifting toward Evelyn, the sounds of hoofs trotting along the street oddly comforting.

She mulled over the absurdity of her latest misadventure. She’d enlisted the help of Mr. Canvas, a lanky old man in possession of a coach, to escort her to Bath because her carriage had disappeared along with her footman. Point of fact, the only favorable thing about finding brandy in the coach had been it dulled the pinch in her heart somewhat, unfortunately not permanently. 

Then, on their arrival, she discovered that Mr. Canvas had gotten the destinations wrong! Instead of Bath, he had taken her to Bristol. He then left her in the hands of his nephew, Tom, to see her settled for the night.

Evelyn dipped her head backward; her face submerged in the water. She loathed finishing her bath- the warmth soothed her delicate skin. How fortunate that she’d never sent word to her aunt of her pending arrival, knowing her aunt would never mind an unexpected appearance. Her brother on the other hand would want to be informed that she’d arrived in good health.

Evelyn closed her eyes in an effort to calm her mind so that her headache might disappear. They popped open again at the sound of an all too familiar voice.

“Excuse me madam, have you seen a woman about...”

Evelyn’s heart plummeted to her toes. She knew that voice. It was the same voice that haunted her every moment and her every dream.

She craned her neck to peer at the window. Oh good lord. He stood right outside her window, the shadow of his silhouette as discernable as the clouds in the sky. How had he found her? Here in Bristol, no less? Evelyn strained her ears to pick up their conversation.

“Don’t rightly know sir, this is a respected men’s establishment and they don’t allow women of any kind. Ye could try the Peaches and Plum Inn or Gabby’s Lounge. It’s the most popular amongst the posh that pass through here.”

Evelyn gasped.

Men’s establishment? Had she heard correctly? Gentlemen don’t take kindly to women who infiltrate their establishment, regardless of their class. Why hadn’t she thought to question her whereabouts?

Not even when Tom handed her a pair of breeches, shirt and jacket did she view it as odd, in fact, she remembered being all too happy to obliged him. But surely after Tom brought water for her bath they would have learned that a woman occupied one of their rooms?

“Oh when I get my hands on you, Tom,” she muttered under her breath, snatching up a towel. 

Why would Matthew have pursued her?  What did he hope to gain? Then it struck her—he wasn’t about to let what happened between them go. Had he discovered her lie?

In quick jerking movements she dressed in the clothing Tom had provided and set about drying her hair. She hoped Mr. Canvas and Tom were somewhere nearby. There was a cap on the chair in front of the hearth. Ah yes, it formed part of the outfit Tom gave her.

Admittedly, the men’s attire was much more comfortable and far easier to dress, the freedom of movement pleasant and envious overall. Once done she padded toward the window, where she noted Matthew no longer stood outside her room. Oh how it would irk him if he knew she had been only footsteps away.

Botheration! Why did he have to have unruly hair and broad shoulders and strong features and eyes so vivid they pierced your soul? They were by far his most fascinating feature. Ancient. As if they’ve seen far too much, held all the knowledge of this world, and found it lacking. Tired eyes.

Stop it!
She chided herself. These ridiculous musings of his eyes did not change the fact she would have to, once again, steal away like a thief in the night. For the last time, she vowed.

Evelyn would never regret her decision to remain a spinster so that she could follow her dreams. It had been her decision. The only reason (in her estimation) that she was now plagued with reluctance was because she did not wish to end her adventure, certainly not because she was developing tender feelings for him.

She headed toward the door and listened for any activities in the hallway. Satisfied when she heard none she opened the door, just enough to poke her head out, and see if no footman lurked about. Lady Luck once again favored her side. She slipped out and moved with caution down the hallway, fully alert. Whether she was going in the right direction, she could only hope. The establishment was eerily silent, she could hear no more sound coming from the streets. It must be her nerves, she reasoned and flushed at the thought of sleeping in such a place.

In the near vicinity a door slammed shut and Evelyn nearly jumped out of her skin. Flattening against the wall, her arms stretched out wide, she glanced left and then right, wide eyed. Stars. She nearly succumbed to the vapors. As it were, her heart drummed against her chest.

As soon as everything went eerily silent again she let out a relieved breath. Her relief however was short lived when a commotion somewhere to her right caught her attention, followed by yelling and then a steely voice, “I will tear this place apart if you don’t tell me where she is.”

A shiver rippled down her spine.

He’d found her. And by the sound of it, he was ready to kill someone. Well, now she knew for certain she was heading in the wrong direction. Pivoting, she came face to face with Tom. “Oh!” she started, nearly leaping up against the wall. “Tom! You scared me to death!”

She took a deep breath to calm her nerves. “Why did you bring me to this... this... place?” she whispered furiously, her hand covering her heart.

Tom had the good sense to look ashamed when he whispered back, “You weren’t in any danger here, my lady. I watched over the room the whole night, I did.”

Another furious yell reached their ears and Tom grabbed her wrist, pulling her in the opposite direction.

“How did he find me Tom?”

Tom only shook his head and motioned for her to remain quiet. Little rascal. Though not so little as they were the same height, even though he was much younger. But he was right, lest they alert Matthew of their whereabouts.

Evelyn glanced over her shoulder in the direction of Matthew’s voice; sure he would barrel after them at any moment. “How did he find me?” she muttered, perplexed.

It was doubtful that Tom or Mr. Canvas apprised him of her whereabouts and no one else saw them arrive. Well, not that she knew of. Sparing a glance down at her attire Evelyn hoped it would be sufficient to escape undetected.

They entered the kitchen and she heard Tom whisper to keep her head down. Evelyn supposed that while she might be dressed like a lad, her face was another matter. Perhaps a spot of mud would do the trick? Keeping her head down she followed him through the kitchen, but not before she heard a furious yell resonating through the building.

“Evelyn!”

She actually cringed at her name being bellowed. It felt as though at any moment someone would point a finger at her and give her identity away.

“Evelyn! I will tear this place apart, Evelyn!”

“Tom!” she whispered worriedly and his hold on her wrist tightened. At last they reached the back door that led outside.

“Hurry my lady, before that man finds you here.”

Chapter 5

Matthew stood across the street, leaning against his carriage and scowled furiously at The White Horse, a men’s establishment he suspected Evelyn to be hiding in. Damn if that woman wasn’t as slippery as an eel. And damn her for running away from him, with a man she didn’t even know. Her footman could count himself lucky that he only got away with a black eye and couple of bruises, but Evelyn, oh he wanted to wring her pretty little neck.

And even though he suspected where she hid, he was in no mood to run around in search of her. That she remained hidden even after he’d bellowed her name like a madman did nothing to quell his suspicion. He would wait her out.

An image of Charlotte sprang to mind. The memories of how he’d let that bitch into his heart, and then she’d ripped it to shreds, still lived strongly in his mind. He’d be damned if he’d let Evelyn do the same. She appeared to be different, not as malicious and deceitful as Charlotte, but she had left without a backward glance, not to mention deceived him. He was such a bloody idiot.

All of a sudden the boy called Tom appeared from a narrow alleyway to the side of The White Horse and disappeared into a building across the street. Tom had been the first lad he’d approached about Evelyn’s whereabouts. The boy had denied any knowledge, but when his fingers twitched restlessly, Matthew caught the stench of a lie. Not that he expected any less where Evelyn was involved.

The lad reappeared and darted back into the alley, only to appear again with another lad, walking swiftly down the road toward a waiting coach. He cursed that it was not Evelyn. His suspicions were apparently unfounded.

Where the hell was Evelyn? He’d been so certain that the lad would lead him to her. With one last glower in their direction he turned away, only to hesitate and narrow his eyes on the boys. One lad had a very odd walk about him, almost as though two sticks had been attached to his legs.

It could not be.

Matthew’s jaw went slack with shock. His face hardened when the lad looked over his shoulder to survey their surroundings.

“Bloody hell!”

Pushing away from his carriage he started toward her in furious strides. He assumed the old man they were conversing with was the elusive Mr. Canvas, who Matthew had up until now not been able to find. 

Well, was this not a curious development? he thought darkly. Here he’d been worried that she might have been kidnapped or worse, when all she’d been doing was gallivanting from town to town, dressed as a boy. And by the look of desperation on her face, he presumed word had reached her of his arrival. His heart pinched. Did he mean so little? Was he so worthless? The questions nagged at the back of his mind. He cast those thoughts aside as he came up behind her. To his satisfaction the lad’s eyes widened in alarm.

“Evelyn.”

Evelyn whirled around at her name being growled, and came face to face with the devil. Fury lined the hard planes of his face and she could not stop the small gasp that escaped her parted lips. But that wasn’t what made her heart start to hammer in her chest. It was the raw intention in his eyes, as if he would make her pay for whatever crimes she had committed against him. Her mouth dropped open, and he smiled crookedly, a cruel edge forming at the corner of his mouth.

She took a step back.

His smile deepened.

She watched, in part dread and part fascination, as his eyes travelled over her body heatedly before they locked with hers. The punishment reflected in them unmistakable. Oh, what arrogance! If he believed he could barge into her life and act like she belonged to him, he could go to Hades. She belonged to no man! There was no reason for him to act so…so… barbaric!

“Trading me in so soon, sweetheart?”

Hot embarrassment flooded her cheeks upon hearing the implication in his voice. Her temper sparked and she replied in a stiff manner, insulted at his reference, “I was not aware there was anything to trade.”

His glare moved to rake over Tom and Mr. Canvas before settling on her again, “Is that so?”

“Yes!” She glared back at him. “What are you doing here?” Because the question needed to be asked.

Those hard eyes hardened even more. If that was at all possible.

“Why, I am here for you, sweetheart.” He took a menacing step forward. “You weren’t where I left you, so I began to wonder whether you were perhaps kidnapped or worse, but apparently you just fled—again.”

Oh! She wanted punch him, but inhaled a calm breath instead and said, “That, sir, is none of your concern. Mr. Canvas is gracious enough to escort me to Bath and—”

“Like hell he will,” Matthew growled. “And for the record Evelyn, everything you do is my concern.”

He sounded so infuriatingly certain of that.

“It is not, you big buffoon!” Evelyn squealed in outrage.

The insult did nothing to deter him.

“I will escort you to Bath and you will tell me everything I wish to know. Which reminds me, does St. Aldwyn know where you spend your nights?”

Confusion lit her brow. “Damien?” she asked, before realizing her mistake. “As a matter of fact, he is aware of my travels and does not mind them in the least,” she amended in a clipped voice.

“You seem awfully certain of that,” Matthew responded with eyes narrowed. “And perhaps that is one of the reasons why, Evelyn, I have the oddest notion there is something you aren’t telling me.”

That’s because she wasn’t.

“Be that as it may, Matthew, I do not have to tell you anything,” she returned, her voice low and tremulous before she spun around to leave, but he caught her arm in an unrelenting grip, jerking her to him. His eyes bore down on her, harsh and dark. “You’re coming with me.” 

Before she could protest his manhandling of her he began to steer her toward his carriage and Evelyn noticed that Mr. Canvas and Tom had conveniently disappeared, leaving her no choice but to be dragged along by this barbarian.

By the time they reached his carriage Evelyn’s palms were sweaty and her heart threatened to burst. It did not assuage her fears that his face was a mask of carved stone and his grip painful. How did one manage a man in this emotional state? If this even was an emotional state. And therein laid her problem—she had no idea why he was acting this way.

Before Evelyn could determine a way to calm him, he grabbed her by the waist and deposited her into the carriage, following in one swift motion he settled across from her. The carriage shot forward as soon as the door shut and with it, any means of escape.

Wary eyes studied the man seated across from her. His jaw was clenched tight and his shoulders tense as he stared out of the window aimlessly, ignoring her completely. She had expected a tongue lashing or at the very least some snide commentary, not this silence. Now he seemed desolate to her in his state of anger, perhaps even a touch vulnerable.

Folding her hands on her lap, Evelyn hid the slight tremor that passed through them and focused on her anger. She would not feel sorry for him. If he had acted as a gentleman should when she’d stumbled into his room, all this could have been avoided.

“Why did you leave?”

The question was asked softly, but Evelyn heard the icy resolve in his tone. She was not surprised by the question, however. Men like Matthew wanted control in all matters. They wanted to be the ones who left. What she had not expected was the vulnerable note in his voice. Her gaze settled to his cravat in thought, not certain how to answer his question without further raising his ire.

“Answer me, Evelyn.”

The steel was back in his voice.

Cad, but he was demanding. How had she not seen it before now? Evelyn would have loved nothing more than to give him some glib answer, but he would not stop until he knew everything he wished to know. The determination in his eyes proved that.

The truth was out of the question too. Oddly enough, she felt safe behind the skirts of her lie. Not just from him, but from her as well.  Her ‘betrothal’ protected her against whatever attraction existed between them.

She lifted her shoulders apologetically, averting her gaze. “What reason was there to stay? We kissed, and while marvelous, it did not mean any-thing. And besides,” she continued, the corner of her lips lifted slightly, “it’s not like you love me.”

The moment the word love slipped out, Evelyn cringed inwardly. What had possessed her to say such a thing!

Matthew’s face drained of all color as those treacherous words stabbed at his heart. It’s not like you love me. Words that had haunted him for six years. Memories assailed him.

The man hadn’t even bothered to leave the bed or cover his nakedness, but then, neither had Charlotte. Getting out of the bed naked, sweat clinging to her body, she walked toward him, hips swaying provocatively.

“Why are you so shocked, my love?”

Matthew could scarcely breathe, his heart hurt so much.

“Why Charlotte? Why would you do this?” His voice came out in a ragged whisper.

She touched his cheek and murmured, “He is just some fun, darling. You are still my number one.”

Matthew pushed her away from him. “I thought I was your only one. How could you do this to me? To us.”

Her cynical laugh filled the room. “Oh come now Matthew, it’s not like you love me.”

He flinched as his heart cracked open at her words.

“Oh dear,” her hand covered her mouth mockingly before she said, “You do love me.”

Matthew turned away from her before she could see the tears shining in his eyes. The last thing he heard as he left was her laughter that followed him out.

With a shake of his head he rid himself of those painful memories. Like an idiot he had believed he loved her, now it all seemed so foolish. But back then, he would have conquered the world for her.

He cast a look of affront Evelyn’s way. “You are right, of course. I do not love you,” he said flatly, the memories of that night making his voice cruel.

Evelyn’s heart pinched at the painful pull of his face. It was gone in a blink, replaced by a blank mask. She angled her face away, but not before she noted how stiff he had become. The awkward silence that ensued was deafening and Evelyn fought the urge to prattle on over meaningless things.

She refused to dwell on his remark or the pain reflected in his eyes. Instead she closed hers and listened to the sounds of the carriage, and that of the horse’s hooves hitting the ground along with the rattling of chains, finding it oddly soothing. When she shifted her weight on the hard leather seat she accidently brushed his leg and her eyes flew open. She quickly pulled away, but couldn’t go far. His body took up most of the room in the carriage.

At the contact he shot her a heated glance before once more returning his gaze to the outside, as though he couldn’t stand the sight of her. He probably couldn’t, Evelyn thought with a furrow of her brow. But what had she done to vex him so? All she did (to her knowledge) was to continue on her journey. What else then, could it be? Might the rea-son for his pursuit lie behind the whisper of familiarity she sensed? Had he sensed it to? Or had he learned to truth?

Stars and heaven above! It was no use speculating over matters she could no more solve than his current mood. There was only one manner in which she could put her speculations to rest. Ask.

She steeled herself before she went to the heart of her curiosity. “Have you ever married?” she asked, rather bluntly.

“Why do you care?” he shot back bitterly, not even bothering to glance her way.

Evelyn’s lips tightened, turning down at the ends.

“I don’t. I am merely making conversation.” 

Matthew observed her through the corner of his eye. Perhaps he’d been too hasty in his assessment of her. She didn’t seem the malicious sort that would hurt someone intentionally, even if she was a little liar. Could her lies stem from the same mistrust that plagued him? Possibly, he thought. And that was the heart of their quandary. They did not trust one another.

Perhaps he should have left her when he had the chance, but something about her prevented him from walking away. And upon further reflection, he had found her beauty travelled far deeper than just appearance. She was intelligent, kind and had a wit that outmatched most men.

What he felt whenever she was near, whenever he thought of her, was confounding. All of his senses came to life in her presence. It would seem that the time of running from his past, had come to an abrupt end.

“I had a fiancée once,” Matthew found himself admitting on a whisper.

Maybe if he extended an olive branch, she would do the same.

Her stunned gaze flew to his. He had her undivided attention.

“Who was she?” she asked gently.

He quivered at the soft, low timbre of her voice.

“Her name was Charlotte Manning,” he replied after a moment as if the very name held the power to scorch his skin.

To his relief she remained silent, as though she sensed that if she spoke now, he would drop the subject all together.

“I found her in bed with another man.” His mouth curled into an involuntary snarl.