How to Plan a Wedding for a Royal Spy (32 page)

“It was a hell of a shot, under the circumstances.” Will spared her a worried glance. She didn't look any better than she had a few minutes ago. “Evie, sit down. Help will be here soon.”

“No, I'm all right,” she said in a grim, determined voice. “What can I do?”

“Nothing, my sweet. I'm just sorry you had to do this. I would have spared you, if I could.” He shot her a glance through narrowed eyes. “Although we
are
going to discuss your propensity to take unnecessary risks. I don't need you dueling with any more madwomen.”

Evie sat back on her heels, scowling at him. “She would have killed you. I had no choice.”

“Perhaps, but you endangered yourself. I won't have that.”

“Well, we'll just have to agree to disagree,” she said, sounding encouragingly snippy. But a moment later, she let out another heavy sigh. “Although I certainly hope I never have to shoot anyone again for as long as I live.”

Will removed his hand from Bridget's body. Her eyes had clouded over, and blood had completely soaked the front of her bodice. He took a spare rag Evie offered him and started to scrub the blood off his hand.

“It's not your fault, Evie. I think she wanted this . . . wanted to die.”

“No one wants this,” she replied in a sad little voice. “Bridget had too much grief and anger for any one person to bear.”

“I know.” He wanted to hug her, but he was covered with blood, so he settled for using his relatively clean hand to help her to stand.

“Evie, why don't you sit and rest for a moment? I still have to—”

He stopped, cocking his head. “Ah, help is finally at hand. All clear,” he called, raising his voice.

“A little late, I'd say,” Evie muttered. Will was forced to agree.

A moment later, Alec flung open the door at the top of the stairs, pistol at the ready. His eyes widened at the carnage before him, then he did a quick scan of the room. He stowed his pistol and came down the steps, avoiding Bridget's crumpled form.

“Well,” he said, eyeing Will and Evie with a sardonic expression. “It would appear that my help wasn't needed, after all.”

One minute, Evie was ready to topple over asleep on the soft silk cushions of the settee. The next, she was ready to pace from one end of the morning room to the other in a desperate attempt to bleed off the fractious energy that rattled her nerves. After the momentous events at St. Margaret's last night, her mind had teemed with questions and worries.

Will had been unable to soothe those worries or answer her questions. He'd stayed at the church, directing the ever-increasing number of Bow Street Runners and spies who'd crowded into the kitchen and offices of St. Margaret's. After an hour or so, he'd finally sent her home with an escort of two Runners, despite her protest that she didn't want to leave him.

“You're practically dead on your feet,” Will had said as he escorted her to the carriage waiting in the yard. “I have to be here for some time yet, and there's no point in you waiting. I'll see you tomorrow, as soon as I can get away from this mess.”

He'd then planted a swift but intoxicating kiss on her lips, bundled her into the carriage, and sent her on her way. And, truthfully, as much as she'd wanted to stay with him, he was right. She was so tired she could hardly stand on her own two feet.

Unfortunately, her entire family was waiting up for her when she arrived home, all of them in one state or another. Eden was the calmest of the bunch, instinctively knowing that Evie had survived unscathed, but she'd been so worried earlier that she'd blurted out a garbled version of events to their parents and brother. And hadn't
that
gone over like an exploding artillery shell. By the time Evie got home, Mamma had been in hysterics, Papa had roared that nobody ever told him anything, which Matt had unhelpfully seconded, and she had been forced to spend what little energy she had left explaining the whole blasted thing. Everyone started talking at once—or, in Mamma's case, yelling—and Evie had been required to do some yelling herself in order to be heard. That had been followed by much scandalized moaning and groaning, with Papa expressing his dissatisfaction with Will for putting her in danger.

Mamma had placed most of the blame on poor Michael, of course, which had led to a sharp exchange as to who was most at fault. If Evie hadn't threatened to have her own full-blown case of hysterics, they would probably still be arguing.

Everyone had calmed down a bit after that, especially after Evie explained how Will had rescued not only her but the prime minister and half the Cabinet, too. That was a slight exaggeration, but it certainly helped mollify her parents. Though Mamma professed to be
dreadfully
shocked to learn that Will was a spy, Evie had a sneaking suspicion she also found it rather thrilling and romantic. The fact that he'd been operating under his father's orders helped as well. As Mamma had so trenchantly said to Papa,
when a prince commands, one has no choice but to obey
.

Still, it was all rather messy, and both her parents were greatly annoyed that she hadn't taken them into her confidence earlier. Given their response last night, she knew beyond any doubt that she'd been right not to tell them. But she'd kept that opinion to herself, repeatedly apologizing and answering their questions as best she could until Eden had stamped her foot, told her parents to
stop badgering the poor girl,
and dragged Evie off to bed.

She'd lain awake, though, plagued by questions and wound tighter than her father's pocket watch, not dropping off to sleep until the birds started to twitter and the pale light of dawn seeped under her curtains. Even so, she'd awakened a few hours later, and she knew she wouldn't be able to properly rest until she saw Will again. She desperately needed assurances that Michael and the others at St. Margaret's were safe from criminal charges and that the Duke of York wasn't furious with Will for getting engaged to her. The two things certainly weren't on the same order of magnitude, but her sleep-deprived brain seemed to think such was the case.

So, after choking down a cup of tea and a slice of toast, she'd repaired to the morning room, waiting for Will—for somebody—to arrive with answers and put her out of her misery. She was heartily sick of her own company and had all but vowed to go out and hunt Will down if he didn't have the good manners to appear before lunchtime.

The door opened and Eden poked her head into the room. “Still no Wolf? How dreary of him to be so late.”

Evie jumped up from the settee and started pacing. “I swear, Edie, if he doesn't show himself soon, I'm going to murder him when he
does
finally get here.”

“I know, darling,” Eden said in a sympathetic voice. “But he probably
is
a bit busy this morning, what with mopping up a deadly conspiracy and saving the government from death and destruction. I'm sure he'll be over as soon as he's done with those frippery fellows like Lord Liverpool and the Duke of York.”

Evie stopped in the middle of the room and let out a rueful chuckle. “You're right, of course. I'm an absolute witch to even think that way. But I'm going positively demented with so many questions swirling in my head.”

Eden waved a magnanimous hand. “And no one could blame you. But—” A rap on the front door cut her off. “I bet that's Wolf now. You wait here and pinch some color into those pasty cheeks of yours while I bring him up.”

When she disappeared, Evie hurried to the gilt-framed mirror hanging over the hearth. Her sister was right—she did look whey-faced, but at least her hair and gown were up to trim. She'd made an extra effort this morning, although that seemed rather silly given all the drama of the last few days. Will would no doubt have other things on his mind besides her looks.

There was a quick knock, and then Eden opened the door. “It's not Will, but I think you'll be happy to see your visitor.”

She stepped aside to reveal Michael. He gave Evie a hesitant smile, as if unsure of his welcome.

Evie gaped at him for a second then threw off her surprise and rushed forward. “Michael, I'm so happy to see you!”

“You are?” he asked, rather incredulous.

She took his hand and dragged him over to the settee. “Of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?”

He gingerly sat next to her, looking ready to bolt at a moment's notice. “I'm rather persona non grata, I expect, especially with your parents.” He let out a deep sigh. “After all, I did let Bridget O'Shay and her men take advantage of me, and I still tried to protect them. I was unforgivably naïve.”

“If it's any consolation,” Eden piped up from the door, “Papa was more displeased with Will than he was with you.”

Michael perked up a bit. “Really? And how did your mother react?”

Eden grimaced and waggled her hand. “Well . . .”

“Never mind,” Michael said, looking gloomy again. “I can imagine what Lady Reese thought, and I certainly can't blame her.”

“Nonsense,” Evie said in a bracing tone. “Neither of my parents attaches blame to you.”

Her sister's fair eyebrows shot up, but Evie cut her off before she could say anything else. “Edie, could you leave us alone for a minute? I need to speak with Michael in private.”

“Mamma won't like that very much,” Eden said. “And I can think of someone else who won't be too keen on it, either.”

“Don't worry, Miss Eden,” Michael said. “I'll only be staying a few minutes. I simply wanted to assure myself that Evelyn was unharmed.”

“Edie, you can come back in a little bit,” Evie said in a firm voice.

“All right, I'm going,” her twin huffed. “No need to get snippy.”

“Talk about snippy,” Evie muttered as her sister closed the door with a snap.

“She simply wants to protect you,” Michael said. “You can't blame her for that.”

She sighed. “I know, but sometimes she does have a tendency to smother me.”

“I think we all do that, don't we? None of us gives you enough credit.”

Evie took his hand. “Not you, Michael. You have always been the dearest and kindest of friends. I only wish . . .” She trailed off. She'd hurt him in so many ways, and a thousand apologies would never be enough.

He squeezed her hand and then released it. “I know, my dear girl. You don't need to explain.”

“But I do,” she said doggedly. “That incident with Will . . . I never meant for that to happen. I never meant to be with him.”

“But you are, and I expect you don't regret it, do you?”

“I regret . . . you finding out that way,” she said with a grimace. “It was positively heartless for me to do that to you.”

“Well, I'm sure you didn't plan it,” he said with a slight smile, “so I won't hold it against you. And you've already apologized to me, Evelyn. You don't need to keep doing so.”

She had apologized to him the morning she'd warned him that he was under suspicion of treason. But the dire circumstances had forced her to rush, and she still felt she owed him a proper explanation.

“Michael, I wanted to marry you, I truly did. It's just that . . .”

Good Lord, she seemed incapable of clearly articulating anything this morning. Perhaps she'd simply run out of explanations—for anything. Her life had been turned on its head, and she was still trying to adjust to the momentous changes.

“It's just that you're in love with Captain Endicott,” he finished for her. “Are you not?”

“Well, yes, I am,” she admitted, her cheeks turning hot. “I suppose that's rather obvious by now.”

“Then given that salient fact, it would of course be wrong for you to marry me. And,” he said, after a moment's pause, “Endicott loves
you,
does he not?”

Evie's heart thudded with a painful extra beat. Of course Will loved her—he always had. But would he have truly wished to spend the rest of his life with her if circumstances had been different?

She would not, however, discuss that unanswered question with Michael. It would only upset him, and he might do something silly about it like pick a fight with Will.

“Yes, of course, he loves me,” she said. “He always has.”

“Well,” he said, with a genuinely sweet smile, “then you must know that you have my blessing, Evelyn. I wish you and the captain nothing but the best. You certainly both deserve it.”

Evie's eyes started to prickle, and her throat went tight. “Michael,” she whispered, “I never meant to hurt you.”

“I know, my dear, and it was a blow, I admit. But I also knew that your affections were never as strong as mine.” He held up a hand to stop her protest. “Of course you're fond of me, but part of me always knew that you had never stopped loving Endicott. I have only myself to blame for ignoring that.”

“I'm sorry,” she said, feeling like a complete worm.

“Nonsense,” he said, patting her hand again. “Captain Endicott makes you happy, does he not?”

She didn't even have to think about it, God help her. “He does.”

“That is what truly matters. As I said, you have my best wishes for your life together, and you have my friendship. Always.”

By the end of that heartfelt speech, Evie felt like curling up in a little ball under the settee.
Worm
couldn't even begin to describe it.

Suddenly, Michael laughed. “My dear, the look on your face! Truly, Evelyn, I'll be fine. Good Lord, I'm a free man this morning, thanks to Captain Endicott. Without him—and you—God knows where I would have ended up. Indeed, I have no cause to feel anything but gratitude despite the travails of the last several days.”

Evie threw her arms around him and gave him a quick, fierce hug. “Michael Beaumont, you are the nicest person I've ever met.”

He made a great show of clearing his throat. “Thank you, Evelyn.” He hastily rose to his feet, as if eager now to escape her. “If you'll forgive me, I must be on my way. There is a great deal to do at St. Margaret's. Everyone is in a terrible uproar, as you can imagine.”

Evie rose with him. “But everything's all right, isn't it? Surely no one else at St. Margaret's is under suspicion?”

He gave her a reassuring smile. “Everything is fine. But Runners and government agents have been in and out of the place all night, as I understand it. I'm sure poor Mrs. Rafferty is ready to hand in her notice by now. Captain Gilbride also sent round a note asking to go over a few remaining details about the men in Bridget's gang.” His kind eyes clouded with sorrow. “I don't think I will ever understand how I missed what was going on with that poor woman. I feel somehow that I failed her.”

“No more than I or anyone else,” Evie replied matter-of-factly, knowing Michael's tendency to take the blame for the failings of others. “She'd charted her course long before she met any of us, and I don't suppose there was any turning back for her.”

He nodded. “That's true, I suppose.” He made a determined effort to shake off his little spell of melancholy. “Well, there's no point in worrying about it now, not when so many people need help. Some will be afraid to come to St. Margaret's after the news gets out, so Father O'Kelley and I must do what we can to restore their trust.”

Evie followed him to the door, mustering up her courage. “Michael, I do hope you'll allow me to continue working at St. Margaret's. I'd like so much to be able to do that.”

His eyes widened. “My dear girl, of course you may! The Hibernian Benevolent Association would not even exist without you. I will depend upon your help as greatly as ever.”

She gave him a grateful smile, so touched that she found it hard to speak.