Sin With a Scoundrel: The Husband Hunters Club (12 page)

Her father sighed again. “Even if you were married tomorrow, it probably wouldn’t make any difference, Tina; it is too late. Although in a month or so, if our debts were settled, we might be able to claw something back. But I can’t get my hopes up. Very soon we will have to leave this house, where your mother was born and her father was born and his before him. What a mess.”

“I’m so sorry, Papa.”

“No, no, it’s not your fault. I am the one who has failed you all. Your mother thinks so, and she is right.”

He looked so miserable she didn’t know what to say or do. In the end she simply kissed his forehead and left him alone.

Things were even worse than she’d thought. She must marry Horace, and without delay. There was no way out, no matter how interesting she found Richard Eversham or how enjoyable were his kisses. And she certainly couldn’t rely on Charles to come to the rescue, even if Anne’s parents did agree. No, this must be Tina’s sacrifice and hers alone.

“Sacrifice.”
She turned the word over in her head. It made her think of a stone dropping into a pond, leaden, and that was how it felt. Tina had been telling herself for so long that Horace was her childhood sweetheart that she’d grown to accept it, and the fantasy had certainly made the idea of marrying him more palatable. But now it was time to face the truth, and it was Mr. Eversham who had shown her what that was.

She didn’t love Horace. She liked him, she was fond of him, but to be his wife and grow old with him . . . No, that was not something that brought her paroxysms of joy. And she probably would never have come to that realization if she hadn’t met Richard. To be with him, to be in his arms, to kiss him . . . their moments together had been a revelation.

Did she want to marry him? Tina didn’t think so. Her practical soul reminded her that she hardly knew him. This was more to do with an attraction of the flesh, the sort of thing men indulged in all the time. Women weren’t supposed to feel like this, and certainly they weren’t supposed to admit to lust. But if it wasn’t lust she was feeling, then what was it?

She sighed. Speculating was a waste of time. She was marrying Horace. The memory of her father’s face just now was enough to strengthen her resolve. Marriages in her stratum of society were rarely for love, and she must not think herself hard done by. She was saving her family, and it wouldn’t be so bad. She and Horace would rub along well enough.

Assuming he eventually proposed to her.

And for that Tina knew she needed Richard Eversham.

A treacherous shiver of pleasure curled in her stomach because she knew she had no choice but to see him again. And again. Until Horace proposed, Richard would be part of her life. Tina wondered how long Horace’s proposal might take. Logically, going by recent events, it would probably take some time.

It was selfish of her—the curl of pleasure came again—but Tina was delighted.

Chapter 16

R
ichard heard the voices downstairs shortly after Tina left and thought for a moment she had returned. Dispassionately he noted, as if his own emotions were foreign to him, how his heart leaped, and his body hardened at the thought of seeing her again.

But it wasn’t Tina.

Moments later Archie was opening the door to someone he very much
didn’t
want to see. His sister-in-law, Anthony’s wife.

“Evelyn, this is an unexpected surprise.”

She was a beautiful woman, with her golden red hair and violet-blue eyes, but again Richard was able to observe this dispassionately. Long ago he hadn’t been so cool in her presence, but then she’d married Anthony, and now his brother was dead.

“Dear Richard.” She smiled as she took his hand, and only someone who knew her well would have been able to see the hint of petulance in her face. She was displeased with him because he was able to resist her charms. Evelyn would have preferred it if he had spent the last few years heartbroken and lovesick.

“What are you doing here in town?” he inquired, nodding at Archie to fetch some tea and cake.

“I can’t stay forever at Eversham Manor, you know,” she said with a hint of melancholy. “Beautiful as it is, I do need to seek out the gaiety of London now and again.”

“No one is making you stay in Kent, Evelyn.”

She made a moue. “On the small allowance I receive from you, Richard, there’s nowhere else I can go.”

“It isn’t a small allowance, Evelyn, and it was left to you by your husband. Besides it is perfectly adequate.”

“Well, we must disagree on that,” she said with the hint of a snap.

Evelyn had been an actress before Anthony married her, but not a very good one. In fact, Richard thought with inner amusement, in his opinion Tina’s abilities far exceeded hers already.

“You are up here to see your friends at the theater?” he said, carelessly, and received a savage look from her remarkable eyes.

“I have no friends, Richard. I gave all of that up when I married Anthony for love. Remember?”

“Oh, I remember,” he said quietly.

She opened her mouth but didn’t quite dare to say any more. Even her monumental ego wasn’t quite steel plated enough for her to ignore the warning in his voice.

“Well,” she said, seating herself on the sofa Tina had so recently left. “I was wondering when you might be coming home to Kent, Richard. There is a great deal needs doing on the estate, and I don’t have the authority to tell Mr. Gregor whether or not to go ahead.”

“Mr. Gregor is perfectly capable of writing to me, Evelyn.”

“But it is so silly! You never visit. Anthony has been dead for two years, and still you stay away. I know it is because you feel you are to blame.”

That tilt of her head, the bright malicious gleam in her eyes. He remembered it all so well. How could he have been such an idiot as to fall in love with her all those years ago? He had been utterly smitten. And then Anthony had met her, and Evelyn had realized which brother was the rich one. She’d set about acquiring Anthony, and soon they were married.

Richard hadn’t spoken to his brother after that. He’d left for London and refused to return, despite Anthony’s efforts to mend things. Of course he regretted his refusal now, bitterly, but it was too late. And Evelyn didn’t help matters by inventing her own version of the past—and the future. She wanted Richard to tell her he was still in love with her, had never stopped loving her, and that he was seeking Anthony’s killer for her sake, so that he could marry her with a clear conscience.

Such a perfect Evelyn ending!

All because he’d made the mistake at Anthony’s funeral of telling her about his vow to find his brother’s killer, and how he meant to deny himself his inheritance and any solace to be found in marriage until he did. She’d laughed at him, called him a silly, passionate boy.

“I’ll marry you now,” she’d said.

Shocked, he hadn’t known what to say. He should have told her in no uncertain terms that he meant never to marry her, but he was reeling at his brother’s death and all that had been left unresolved between them. She must know now that her hopes were nothing more than fantasies, and yet she persisted.

Evelyn was one reason he never visited Eversham Manor; Anthony’s unsolved murder was the other.

“ . . . A riot among some farmers, Mr. Gregor says, for no apparent reason than to show they could. Dreadful, isn’t it?”

Richard snapped out of his reverie. “What did you say, Evelyn?”

She gave an exaggerated sigh. “I was talking about the Bossenden Wood riots in May, Richard. Mr. Gregor heard from . . . oh, someone or other, that there was a gentleman around at that time, gathering disgruntled farmers together to cause trouble. Evidently the ringleader was just a poor madman this gentleman had persuaded to act a part. And then, as soon as the men started rioting and the soldiers were called in, the gentleman vanished.”

Her eyes were gleaming. She’d known he’d be interested, and by God, he was. “Do you know the name of this so-called gentleman, Evelyn?”

She pretended to give it a great deal of thought, and then Archie interrupted with the tray, and there was much ado about pouring tea and cutting cake. When they were finally alone again, Richard repeated his question.

“McGregor did not say,” she said airily, “although he did mention he was medium height, with fair hair, and rather handsome. A toff, he said, from the north.”

“From the north?”

“North of Kent, at any rate,” Evelyn said, biting into her fruitcake with relish. She’d always had a good appetite, he remembered, even at Anthony’s funeral.

A thought occurred to Richard, and he set down his cup. “Evelyn, did you know about Anthony? Did you know what he was doing when he died?”

She widened her eyes innocently, but he wasn’t deceived.

“I might consider increasing your allowance, a little.”

Those violet-blue eyes narrowed. “By how much?”

The figure was haggled over until she reluctantly agreed to an amount. “Yes, I knew what he was doing,” she admitted coyly. “Anthony told me everything. He trusted me completely, unlike you, Richard.”

“So you knew about the Guardians?”

“Sir Henry Arlington and his silly spy games? Of course I did. And I knew about the Captain. That was who killed him, wasn’t it? Sir Henry had it put about that he’d been robbed and murdered by some ruffian, but I always knew that wasn’t true. Sir Henry even secured me a little pension from the government, but it was really to keep me quiet,” she said smugly. Then, seeing the shocked expression on his face, she hurriedly added, “Not that I would have said anything! But why refuse when one is a poor widow and desperate?”

“If you know who the Captain is, you’d better tell me,” Richard said with soft menace.

Evelyn’s lips trembled, and her eyes filled with tears. “R-richard? Do you think I would know the name of my husband’s murderer and say nothing? I know I hurt you terribly, but surely you can’t think such a dreadful thing of me?”

He felt ashamed, as she’d meant him to. He’d gone too far. Evelyn might be a greedy and unpleasant woman, but she wouldn’t protect the man who’d killed Anthony. “I’m sorry,” he said roughly. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

By now her tears had turned to sobs, and reluctantly he came to sit beside her and put his arms about her to comfort her. Immediately she turned into his chest, clinging to him, shaking with grief. She was enjoying it, but he couldn’t say that, and did he really know it for a fact? Perhaps it was time to set aside the ill feelings he had for her. Perhaps she was right, and in some corner of his heart he’d never forgiven her for throwing him aside because she preferred Anthony.

Evelyn raised her swimming gaze. “Richard, I am so alone,” she said with trembling lips. “Come home, please come home.”

He could have kissed her then. He could have taken her right here on the sofa, and he was fairly sure she would have let him. But Richard knew he would only be slaking his lust for Tina on Evelyn, and he couldn’t do that. Whatever he felt about Evelyn, he was a gentleman at heart.

He set her away from him and handed her his handkerchief.

“I will come home when I have brought Anthony’s murderer to justice,” he said. “And if there is anything more you know about him, then you must tell me. Now.”

Evelyn mopped her face, sending him pitiful little glances. “I don’t know any more. When I heard about the gentleman and the riots I knew there might be a connection, and I came to tell you.”

“I will write to Gregor.”

“He will only confirm what I have said, Richard.”

He watched her twisting the handkerchief in her fingers. “Did you really come all the way to London to tell me about the Captain, Evelyn?”

She took a breath and steadied herself. Her gaze was cool and clear, no tears and redness. Had she been crying at all, or was it all pretence with her? “Of course I did,” she said. “I want Anthony’s murderer caught just as much as you do, Richard. I know you will never forgive me until he is. And I want you to be happy. I want us both to be happy.”

“Evelyn—”

“No, don’t say anything. I know we can’t speak of it, not yet. But when this man, the Captain, has been caught and hanged, then you must come to me at Eversham Manor, Richard. I will be waiting.”

After she’d gone, Richard told himself it would have been cruel to tell her she could wait until hell froze over, that he would never trust her again with his heart, let alone love her. But the information she’d brought was valuable, and he sent off a letter immediately to Gregor to confirm it and discover anything more the land agent might know.

“Medium height, fair hair, and handsome,” he murmured to himself. It could be Gilfoyle. It could be Little. It could be a hundred other men. But he felt as if he was getting closer to the end of his journey. “Nearly there, Anthony old chap,” he said gently to his dead brother. “Nearly there.”

“T
his had better be good,” Lord Montague growled, as he sat down at the table. “I had to break an appointment at my club.”

Sir Henry glanced about and nodded. “All present, the meeting will come to order,” he announced, and turned at once to Richard. “Well, my boy, what was so important it couldn’t wait?”

Richard began to tell them about Evelyn’s visit and what Gregor had told her.

“Hearsay,” Montague muttered. “And from a woman, by God.”

“I believe her,” Richard retorted, “and Gregor is a trustworthy fellow.”

“The description could fit ten thousand men north of Kent,” Sir Henry mused, “but it is interesting that it fits our latest two candidates for the Captain.”

Will Jackson made some suggestions about following up the information, and notes were taken. Richard knew he would have to go to Kent, but first there was Sir Henry’s country weekend. Interesting to see what Gilfoyle and Little got up to there. Interesting and dangerous.

“If the Captain finds out we are getting closer—”

“Closer!” Montague sneered.

“—he might take action. As he did last time with my brother.”

Sir Henry nodded solemnly. “We are in a dangerous occupation, Richard. We take risks. But if not for us, then there would be anarchy. This man must be stopped, and if risks need to be taken, then they shall be.”

A vote was taken to continue the course they were on, and the meeting broke up. Will Jackson followed Richard out. “Are you going to be at this weekend party, Eversham? Sir Henry has invited me. Perhaps we could travel down together?”

Richard agreed, and they made their arrangements.

As he walked away, Richard was remembering Gilfoyle’s unpleasant smirk at the Smythe’s dinner table and wondered again whether he was the Captain. It would give him great pleasure to see Gilfoyle dragged away by the authorities, but he admitted to himself it would give him even more pleasure to punch him square on the nose.

Archie had told him about Maria’s admission. The Smythes were bankrupt, and Tina was marrying to save the family fortune and the family honor. If he could prove Gilfoyle was the Captain, he would save her from that fate. Although how that would help her family’s financial woes wasn’t exactly clear. Probably not, was the answer.

Well surely with Gilfoyle out of the way there could be someone more suitable found? Tina was a stunning girl, beautiful and clever. Richard was quite sure it would be a simple matter to find her a husband who could solve all her problems.

Of course, it would have to be someone of whom he approved.

What of Will Jackson? He’d considered him before, and he was intelligent and honest, with a good family and with a reasonable fortune. Surely he was the perfect choice?

But the more Richard considered Will Jackson, the more he seemed to discover things about the man he didn’t quite approve of. They were little things, but nevertheless Richard wanted perfection for Tina. There might be someone at Arlington Hall. Apart from himself, of course, because Richard had vowed not to marry, not until Anthony’s murderer was brought to justice, and even then . . . well Evelyn had dampened his desire for marriage.

There would be the perfect someone for Tina, he reassured himself. He just had to keep looking.