The Rebel Heir (10 page)

“What would you like to discuss?” he asked.

Her eyes darted to the door, bypassing her maid's watchful looks in the same direction, before Evie leaned in to whisper, “I'm not to discuss anything of import.”

“Why not?” he whispered back.

She considered her answer, some secret hiding in the depths of her eyes. “I'm a lady,” she finally stated.

“I can see that.” He grinned at her, enjoying the blush that seeped into her cheeks. Whatever concern had filled her, he wanted to banish it forever. And if that meant discussing the weather, he would do so. He watched her for a moment and could see the worry still in her eyes as she busied herself with straightening the already-straight tea tray. “In the name of civilized conversation over tea, however, we could simply talk.”

She relaxed a fraction. “I suppose if it is an official rule, I shouldn't break it. I never break the rules.”

“I find rules to be rather malleable things. I bend them and they always snap back, good as new, when I'm done with them.”

“How many rules have you broken?”

“Bent,” he corrected. “And I don't keep a tally. Have you ever bent the rules? Surely on occasion…”

“When you aren't present?” she asked.

“Am I so terrible an influence?”

“Yes.”

He gave an unrepentant shrug of his shoulders. “At least I excel at the task.”

“What
other
tasks are you excelling at while in London?” Her gaze dropped to the tea service and she refilled her cup, although he suspected that had nothing to do with thirst.

“Honesty has its bounds, Evie,” he warned.

She returned the tea to its tray and looked up, meeting his gaze. “You're going to leave again, aren't you?”

“When my business is concluded.”

“Your business with my father.” Her brow furrowed as she studied him. “Why court me, even if we both know it isn't in earnest?”

“For the tea and civilized conversation, of course.” Would his answer settle the matter for now? He found himself waiting, his body tense with anticipation.

She picked up her teacup and nodded in his direction. “Clearly.”

That was the problem with honesty. In his line of work, it was always short-lived. He didn't know why he'd allowed himself to become entangled with Evangeline Green. It was an unnecessary complication. He could have stopped the direction of her father's thoughts on the matter. He could have met with the man without barging in on his time out with his family, without proclaiming a desire to call on Evie. But he'd allowed it to happen. He'd wanted it to happen, convinced he could distract Evie long enough to reach his goal. But he was the one caught off balance every time she looked at him.

Perhaps there was still a benefit to calling on Evie in an effort to meet with Rightworth more often. He could use Evie as a means to get close to the family and the pursuit of his goals. But for that justification of his actions to be plausible, he would have to actually call on the man.

As things stood, he was here, sipping tea and chatting about the weather with a lady, instead of sitting across the hall, hard at work convincing her father to tender all of his ill-gotten gains to Ash for a steam machine that would never exist. And the most troubling part of the whole business was that the only thing he wanted to do was refill his cup and stay the afternoon with her.

* * *

Evangeline slipped through the door and into her mother's private parlor, checking over her shoulder to ensure she was still alone upstairs. All was quiet. She took a steadying breath. Being in her mother's private space was risky at best, but she must do this.

Picking up her skirts, she scurried to the bookshelf that stood in the far corner. She moved a vase out of the way and grabbed her mother's most prized possessions, volumes one and two of
Debrett's Peerage
. Evangeline held the large books to her chest. The answers were here; she knew it. Tweaking the vase back into place, she turned and ran from the room.

Her mother was shopping and would be home within the hour. But for now, the upstairs hall was empty as long as Evangeline hurried. She didn't wish to explain her curiosity to anyone, much less the lady of the house. Fleeing around the corner and into her own bedchamber, Evangeline leaned back against the closed door with a sigh. She hadn't slept last night, thinking of what she knew she must do, and now she would see that it was done.

The man was up to no good—that much was certain. Despite his claim of honesty over tea yesterday afternoon, plenty of unanswered questions remained. He'd practically danced around what he was doing in London.
Business
. There was more to it than that, and she was going to find out what, since boring him to the point of fleeing certainly hadn't worked.

He was only playing at courting her before he left town again. Why? She had the right to know the truth about him. Didn't she? And if he was being false in his dealings with her father, she had the responsibility to stop him.

If her mother had taught her one thing, it was that gentlemen should be researched. She'd been made to memorize titles, families, estates, level of wealth, and connections in society of every gentleman in town this season and last. She should at least know the true family name of the man she'd already kissed—twice! His given name was Ash.

“Ash,” she whispered to herself with a smile as she sank onto her bed.

She'd seen the truth of his name in his eyes when he said it yesterday. It wasn't much to begin with, but it was better than what she'd had last year. It was surely short for something…Ashford…Ashton…

Dropping the volumes onto the bed at her side, she ran her fingers over the leather cover of the top volume before flipping the book open. Inside was a terribly long listing of families, which seemed appropriate. Good society was called the
ton
. Perhaps not ironically, the name matched the weight of the books.

Evangeline shifted on the bed and leaned farther over the index. This was quite a large number of families when she was trying to find one gentleman. Which was interesting, since her experience with finding one gentleman to marry was quite the opposite—there should be more to choose from. Settling in, she studied the names. She knew many of the family names from her sessions with her mother. Of course, there were plenty she didn't know. Those without fortune, or with no entailed estate, had been beneath her mother's notice.

Page after page was filled with tables and explanations of the peerage. Her head ached with the amount of information before her. She simply wanted to know who Ash was. If only there was a way of narrowing her search… She thumbed through the large book without truly seeing it, jumping as she was struck by a thought.

The wind would blow in from the sea at his home. Ash's home was on the coast. It didn't exactly point to his true identity, but it did eliminate a sizable portion.

Her door was flung open with an unceremonious bang as three ladies peered inside. “Evie, there you are. We looked everywhere for you.” Isabelle's smile lit the room as she stepped inside, even her footsteps were cheerful as she crossed the floor.

“Your butler tried to shoo us from the house, saying you
weren't available to callers
.” Roselyn mocked the last bit in a dramatic interpretation of her family's butler, making Evangeline stifle a laugh.

“Victoria told him we were far from your average callers, and we wouldn't be long.” Isabelle leaned against the window frame without removing her bonnet or gloves. They must have plans for the afternoon, Evangeline thought.

Victoria shrugged one shoulder as she moved to the mirror for a quick check of her hair. “I also mentioned Roselyn being a duke's sister. That really opens doors in town. You should use it to your advantage, Roselyn.”

“Yes, it does indeed open doors,” Roselyn agreed, pulling a face of resigned disappointment as she adjusted her glove at the wrist. “Unfortunately, those open doors always accompany looks of puzzlement over my sanity, thanks to my family.”

“Your brother's title worked today,” Victoria said, consoling her while turning back to the room and propping a hip on the corner of the dressing table. “I for one enjoyed the look on Evie's poor butler's face.”

Of course dropping a duke's name had worked in this home. The butler had been trained almost as well as she had on the subject of titles.

“It seems we arrived at the perfect time. What are you reading? That looks dreadfully dull,” Roselyn said as she investigated the cover of the book lying open on the bed.

“Whatever it is, abandon it. We're on our way to Bond Street,” Victoria commanded as if leading a charge. “Isabelle requires a new fan.”

“Because you broke mine,” Isabelle retorted.

“Because you hit me with it.”

“Oh, Isabelle,” Evangeline muttered, but she was ignored.

“I did no such thing. I merely tapped you on the arm, just as we were taught to do.”

Victoria drew back in horror. “Don't do it that way, or you will have injured all the gentlemen in town by season's end.”

“I did advise her that she should practice, Victoria,” Evangeline offered, cutting into the twins' argument.

“Perhaps Isabelle doesn't need another fan,” Roselyn added. “I often find them overused in fashion anyway.”

“What is this, Evie?” Isabelle asked, ignoring the discussion of her skills with a fan and coming to perch beside her on the edge of the bed.

“Mother's copy of the latest
Debrett's Peerage
.”

“Why would you want to read that in your free time?” Victoria asked. “Is she forcing more stringent studies upon you now that you're here in London? You poor dear.”

“No,” Evangeline stated, drawing herself up straight to brace for the impact of her next words. “I'm searching for a gentleman.”

“Ooh, who is he? Tell us everything!” Roselyn said. She leaned against the post at the foot of the bed.

“That's the problem.” Evangeline ran her fingers over the edge of the book, flipping through the pages with a sigh. “I don't know anything.”

“Did he deceive you?” Roselyn asked. “Because if he's the sort of gentleman who goes about town making up stories, that is someone you'd best avoid.”

Evangeline placed a hand on Roselyn's arm. She was only trying to protect Evangeline from her own problems with gentlemen. Roselyn had her own troubles, what with the death of her fiancé and all. “Roselyn, you know avoiding a gentleman isn't as simple as it would seem.”

Roselyn smiled and squeezed the hand on her arm. “I do.”

“Surely you can research your gentleman later, Evie,” Isabelle said hopefully. “Victoria will select some garish fan if you aren't there to help with the decision.”

“Not garish,” Victoria corrected. “Simply smaller, much smaller.”

Isabelle leaned forward, pleading, “See, Evie? I need you.”

“I really should stay here,” Evangeline stated.

“I can help you find the perfect fan,” Roselyn offered. “Perhaps something with flowers on it?”

Victoria pushed off the dressing table and moved across the room. “Come along, dears. I believe our stop here was in vain. Clearly Evie is too busy investigating Lord Crosby's background to shop with us today. We should leave her to it. If we don't find a new fan for Isabelle, I'll never hear the end of it.”

“Ooh, it's that new gentleman in town?” Isabelle asked with wide eyes.

“I never said—”

“You didn't need to say his name,” Victoria cut in. “I swear the lot of you are rotten at keeping secrets from showing on your faces. This is why I don't bring you along when I play cards.”

“Victoria!” Isabelle exclaimed.

“I was speaking in the theoretical sense, Isabelle. I only entertain myself with drink anymore, which is a struggle since London life is wretchedly dull.”

Isabelle might believe her sister, but Victoria wasn't as skilled at hiding truth from her cousin's eyes as she would like to believe. Victoria's gambling would land her in hot water eventually. Evangeline only hoped it was many years from now, and well after she had a husband to look after her interests.

As the three ladies left her bedchamber, she smiled after them. They were the best part of being in the city. If she had to return with her parents at the end of the season—or worse yet, be sent away to live with Great-Aunt Mildred in Scotland—she wouldn't survive. She needed those ladies about.

To keep them in her life, to keep any semblance of life at all, she needed to find a husband. She looked down at the pages upon pages of fine print in front of her. Somewhere in these lines of text lay a family she would join. “And what are you doing? Looking up a man who is sure to be gone within the week,” she mumbled to herself. If she was to investigate him, she'd best be done with it before her mother returned home.

Where to begin? Living near the sea was hardly rare in England. If only there had been anything else, some detail she'd missed. She pushed a falling lock of her hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear as she considered everything he'd told her.

“It's Ash Cla…” he'd said. Had he almost said his family name? If he had, it was quite the slip for such a secretive man.

She began thumbing through the pages. An hour later, she was still sifting through mottoes and family crests. Her eyes were weary and her neck sore, but finally she turned the page and two names caught her searching gaze. Two families in the listings met the specification she was looking for: the Clancartys and the Claughbanes.

Her heart sped as she began to fit pieces of the puzzle together. The Clancartys remained quite landlocked in Derby. That eliminated them quickly enough. What if neither family lived near the sea? She swallowed her concern. She would have to search by some other means. Abandoning her quest for answers about Ash wasn't something she looked forward to, especially not after having to give up on the same search last year.