The Rebel Heir (28 page)

He nodded, but she needed to know more. She had to somehow understand.

“You targeted my father in your plots?”

“I-I made a promise to my mother that your father would pay for what he did to my family,” Ash said in a low voice.

She studied him. “You told me you weren't going to swindle my father. You told me and I explained away your actions. If you were to take from my family, you were only after a small amount. You claimed that's all you ever did.”

A sound of dismay come from Ash's brother, but she ignored it.

“Taking advantage of your father is what I set out to do, what I've been committed to doing, but then I began spending more and more time with you,” he tried to explain, but her ears were already ringing with his lies.

“All the while lying to me.” Evangeline tried to dislodge her hand from his, finally shaking her fingers free after three tries. How could he have deceived her so after all they'd shared? All of their time spent together, the conversations… He'd convinced her to sneak out to Vauxhall to meet him. He'd happened to arrive just in time to give her a ride home in his carriage. Last night…

She stared at him, seeing him for the first time for the true swindler that he was. He'd sought her out at every turn, even going so far as to climb in her window at night. Why would he go to such lengths unless that was all part of his plan as well? All of his actions pointed in one clear direction, one she'd been blind to until this moment. Ash had seduced her in order to ruin her. “You had it all planned out? What happened between us?”

“No. God, no! I never planned for this.”

“When you took…” The words stuck in her throat. He'd taken her virginity. Certainly she'd given it over freely at the time, but he'd known exactly what he was doing. And now she was ruined. Any chance she'd had at a good match—the match her family wanted for her—was gone now. She'd given herself to him, and he'd only been with her out of revenge?

“I never meant to hurt you, Evie,” he said in the most serious voice she'd ever heard him use, but it didn't matter.

“Yes, you did. You came here planning revenge on my father. And you accomplished your task on all levels. You plotted this all along, didn't you?”

“For seven years,” the duke supplied.

She almost choked on her rapid breaths. She needed air. “I was to find a husband this season. Instead, I allowed you to… Oh, what have I done?” Her hands flew to her lips to stop the tumble of words. No one needed to know what she'd given to him last night, but she knew. She would always know. Ash Claughbane had seduced her and ruined her to further hurt her father. And she'd enjoyed it. What kind of wanton had he turned her into that she'd relished every moment of her demise? She was Evangeline. She didn't do that sort of thing—she couldn't. She gripped the edges of her chair, holding on as the world spun around her.

Ash reached for her across the table, but she leaned away from him. “I never meant for this to happen, but I don't regret it. You've changed everything.”

How could he be so callous? Her jaw dropped open. She'd thought she knew him. “You don't regret what you've done?”

“It brought you into my life.” His voice was rough.

“What a boon that must have been for you,” she said in mock politeness.

“It was, but not how you're perceiving it, Evie.”

“Don't call me that,” she demanded. “You lied to me. You used me in your games and I thought…” She'd thought he cared about her, that she'd been special. She'd told herself that perhaps one day he could have grown to love her as she did him. But that day would never come now. He'd only wanted revenge on her father, and she was the fool who'd fallen for his tricks.

“Are you certain you wouldn't like some tea?” the maid asked, returning.

“I don't want your blasted tea!” She pushed her chair back with a loud screeching sound. She couldn't fall apart here. She'd worked for too many years to descend into public hysterics now. She was Evangeline Green, and she would walk from this room with some dignity left intact. “I'm leaving.”

“Don't go.” Ash was on his feet, the look in his eyes one of wild determination. “Please, don't go.”

“Ha! I've spent so long begging that same thing of you. I shouldn't have come here. I shouldn't have done a great many things. That changes now. I have to fix my mistakes before my poor decisions destroy my family once again. I trusted you, which proves what a fool I am.”

“No, you aren't.” He reached for her arm but apparently thought better of it as his hand dropped back to his side. “None of this is your fault. You at least have to believe that. I'm to blame in this, Evie, not you.”

She studied him for a moment. Why was he so insistent that she wasn't to be blamed? There was some detail that he was avoiding in all of this. She could see it in his eyes. And then she realized the truth. The facts settled into place in her mind even though he'd worked not to say the words. “Seven years. That's what you said, wasn't it? This began seven years ago? My father gained back what I lost our family, and he did that at
your
father's expense.” She stared for a second at the truth of her words reflected in Ash's eyes. “This all happened because of me. It
is
my fault.”

“It's not your fault. Don't you dare say that,” Ash said, taking a step toward her.

“You knew.” She took a step backward, away from him and his lies. “You knew that day in the garden maze.” She pressed her lips together as tears stung the backs of her eyes. “You knew before your carriage. You knew before the theater. Yet you didn't tell me?” She would not cry—not here and not for him. “I'm sure that made this portion of your revenge that much sweeter.”

“No!” He had the good grace to look appalled at the suggestion. “Evie…”

“Don't,” she warned with a finger pointed at his chest. “You don't get to tell me lies anymore.”

“We are making a scene,” the duke said.

“I don't
care
.” And for one blinding moment, she didn't. She turned, wild emotion rampaging through her heart, and grabbed a biscuit from the tower. Raising her arm, she flung it at the duke who'd been sitting watching them as if at the theater. She grabbed another fistful and slung them at Ash. It didn't assuage her anger and it was worse than crying in public, but she didn't care just now. Her heart and her virtue lay in crumbs at Ash's feet—why shouldn't the blasted tea biscuits as well? She would walk away from this afternoon and never look back.

“Evie,” Ash called after her, but she was running. The clicking of her shoes on the marble floor sounded in her ears with a sickening hollowness. The flowers she'd thought were enchanting only an hour ago now assaulted her nose with noxious perfumes. She had to escape this place. The dark, dank interior of her family's carriage called to her.

The first tear slipped from her cheek as soon as the carriage door was closed. She'd left him. After all this time trying to hold on to him…he'd never cared for her. Revenge—that was all he had wanted.

“Father's fortune. My future. It's my fault. All of this is my fault.” Regardless of the prying eyes of passing traffic outside the carriage window, she fell to the side, pressing her face against the serviceable fabric of the seat. This summer had been nothing but madness, but she couldn't allow her family to pay for her foolish behavior this time. Not again. She pulled her arms around her body to keep from shaking as she bumped down the road.

Ash was just a memory. Perhaps one day she would look back on this afternoon as a casual observer, with no longing or anguish. Perhaps one day she would even be glad she'd left him standing in that hotel calling after her, and her life would be better for it. But somewhere deep inside, where she knew the flavor of ice she preferred and how she wanted to be touched by a man, she knew those were lies.

Against all reason, she wanted to throw open the carriage door and run back to the man who'd set out to destroy her family, the man to whom she'd given her heart and her body so willingly. He'd looked at her as if she was his future, and she'd wanted him to be hers. “Ash…” She cried his name into the empty carriage. A loud sob caught in her throat, and she wrapped her arms tighter around her body.

Her mother had been right all along. She couldn't be trusted to make decisions regarding her life. And she would never stray from her family's wishes again.

* * *

He should leave. He had no right to be here in Evie's home after what happened yesterday afternoon. Of course he never did have a true right to be here. Ash's mind was caught in a loop, and no matter what he did, it brought him back here to Evie's door. He hadn't slept. He hadn't eaten. He didn't think he could ever ingest a tea biscuit again. The sensible thing to do was to leave town, and that was the one thing he couldn't do.

He'd been shown into the front receiving parlor—Evie's room. The gray skies outside left the empty room cold and devoid of life. When the butler had returned and said Lord Rightworth wasn't available, Ash hadn't been surprised. He likely knew Crosby Steam Works was an empty shell of a company.

With a nod Ash moved back toward the door. There was no use lingering. Evie didn't wish to see him. He didn't blame her. He was, after all, an untitled gentleman and a swindler by trade. But then he heard it.

Humming. Happy, no,
delighted
humming.

He couldn't help himself. He moved toward the sound, ignoring the butler's murmurs at his back. Rounding the corner of the doorway into a large drawing room, he saw Evie standing on a platform. A mirror stood before her as the same young maid he'd seen many times before knelt at her feet with a needle and thread, and her mother circled her, humming.

Evie was wrapped in the finest silk. Tiny flowers trailed from her narrow waist to the floor. Everything about her was elegant perfection, and it couldn't be more wrong. He wanted to scoop her up and carry her from this place to somewhere she'd be safe from her family. But she wanted nothing to do with him. She'd left him. His mouth went dry, and all he could do was stare.
I should leave. I have no right to be here. I never did have a true right to be here.

Evie's gaze shifted from the far window to the mirror and she saw him. He knew because he saw her small intake of breath. Otherwise she didn't move. Tiny smudges marred her skin beneath her eyes. She hadn't slept last night either, it seemed. He wished he could explain away his actions, but he couldn't. He hadn't been honest with her from the start. This was his fault. It was all his fault.

He should turn and walk away, out of her home, out of her life. But he was rooted to the floor, looking in on a scene he had no part of. He was meant to travel on alone; that had always been his destiny. He would pack this image away and take it with him—not the ornate gown or the shining locks of hair pinned with precision, but the look on her face. If he tried, he could imagine longing in her eyes as she watched him in the mirror. But no matter what she wanted to say to him or throw at him today, he knew she wouldn't move. It was time to leave.

“Lord Crosby,” her mother exclaimed, for once pleased to see him. “We weren't expecting you today. Were we, Evangeline?”

“No,” Evie whispered, still watching him in the mirror.

Ash cleared his throat so that he could speak. “I came to see Lord Rightworth.”

“He's with his man of business, changing some investments about and seeing to a few things for Evangeline,” Lady Rightworth said, waving away the cryptic yet telling news like it was a troublesome bug. “You're fortunate enough to catch a glimpse of Evangeline's gown, though. It's beautiful, isn't it? I had it made for her and set aside for the occasion. She'll make a fine bride. Don't you agree?”

“Bride.” The single word fell from his lips as he looked at Evie in the mirror. Bride?

“Oh yes. She accepted Lord Winfield's suit just this morning.” The woman beamed as she adjusted Evie's sleeve. “He's been quite patient waiting for our Evangeline.”

Evie shifted and looked down at her toes, no longer meeting his gaze in the mirror.

“Do be still, darling, and stand up straight. It's as if you haven't been taught proper posture.” Her mother clucked her tongue in disapproval. “I've done my best with you, but Lord Winfield will have his hands full to be sure.”

Evie straightened, her face devoid of emotion as she whispered, “Yes, Mother. I'll try to please him when the time comes.”

The unspoken boundary that kept Ash at the door crashed to the floor at Evie's words. He moved into the room until he was standing beside the mirror she faced in that blasted ornate gown. Evie shouldn't try to please anyone but herself. She deserved more than this paltry offering of a half-life.

“Do you wish to offer your felicitations, Lord Crosby?” Lady Rightworth asked as she circled to Evie's other side. Her hands were clasped at her waist as she looked down her nose at him.

Ash ignored the woman looming over them and looked up to where Evie stood above him on the platform. “Is this what you want?”

“It's for the best, my lord,” Evie whispered, her chin quivering slightly even as she kept it raised. She was staring straight ahead into the mirror as if he didn't exist. Perhaps, to her, he no longer did. “Mother believes—”

“I don't give a damn what your mother believes,” he roared, stepping in front of the mirror until he was facing her. His stomach was in knots. He would be thrown from the house any minute, but he had to try. “Is marrying Lord Winfield what you want, Evie?”

Her mother drew back in shock at his harsh words. “I have never heard such talk—”

“Yes, you have, Mother,” Evie snapped at the woman, seeming to draw strength from his exclamation. Perhaps Evie wasn't completely lost after all. “You heard such talk last year from my sister and her husband. Don't pretend otherwise.”