Louise Allen - Regency Scoundrels And Scandals

‘Your brother? You are Jack’s sister?’

‘Sebastian.’ The flurried and apologetic young woman was gone, replaced by a determined, poised and angry one.

‘I know him as Jack.’

‘Oh, it is the same thing! I don’t care how you—’

‘It is not the same thing,’ Eva said firmly. ‘And I am doing nothing to your brother, and have done nothing to justify your behaviour now.’

‘You have broken his heart,’ the other retorted.

‘Nonsense! Why, that is complete nonsense. Your brother left my house without a word to me a week ago. There had been no disagreement, I had not dismissed him. Broken heart, indeed, what melodrama. If Jack Ryder has anything to say to me, he knows where I am.’ Broken heart? I know whose heart is broken—but I did not leave him.

‘You were lovers.’ It was a flat statement. ‘No, do not bother to deny it. He has said nothing about you, all I knew was that he had been in France, on a mission. Then when he came to see me, he had changed—something inside was hurt.’

Eva discovered that her head was beginning to ache, and so were her feet in their new slippers. ‘Oh, sit down, please, for goodness’ sake. What is your name?’

‘Belinda. Lady Belinda Cambourn. I am a widow.’ Eva nodded—Jack had mentioned Bel. ‘I shouldn’t be here, am still in mourning. But I love my brother very much, and I know him very well. And he is hurting. Deeply.’

‘But—’

Bel waved a hand, silencing her. ‘No one else would be able to tell, except possibly you.’ She shot Eva a look of positive dislike. ‘When he is on missions—when he is Jack—he is cool and calm and quiet, but there is still that wicked enjoyment of life behind those eyes of his. When he is Sebastian, he is the warmest, kindest brother you can imagine.’ Bel directed another withering look at Eva. ‘But now something has gone—the laughter has gone, the warmth inside has gone. He came to see me; he was very sweet, just as he always is. I asked him what was wrong and he laughed and said nothing, just a tiring mission in France.’

‘There you are, then,’ Eva said briskly.

‘So I asked Henry,’ Bel pushed on, as though she had not spoken. ‘And he said that the guv’nor had got himself entangled with you. He said the pair of you were smelling like April and May and—’ She saw Eva’s blank expression. ‘Like lovers, like people in love,’ she supplied irritably. ‘And he had warned Jack that no good would come of it.’

‘If your brother does not choose to tell you about his personal life, I am certainly not going to.’ Like April and May…like people in love. She loved him. But Jack…Surely if he loved her he would never leave her like that?

‘Don’t you care about him? Henry says he saved your life.’

‘Yes. He did.’ Suddenly it was too much, she had to speak of him, about him, and this angry young woman with Jack’s eyes at least cared enough about him to virtually kidnap her in the middle of a Carlton House reception.

‘And, yes, we were lovers. And I have never had one before, in case you think I sleep with every good-looking man who comes my way,’ she added militantly. ‘And I had to ask him, because he was being so damnably gallant and gentlemanlike. We knew it could only last while we were in France—I cannot risk the scandal. We both knew that.’

Bel was watching her in wide-eyed silence now. At least she had stopped glaring. ‘I fell in love with him. I didn’t mean to, I really did not mean to. But I couldn’t help it. I love him so much.’

‘Then—?’ Bel was thinking hard, her brow furrowed. ‘Of course, you thought he was just a King’s Messenger, a glorified bodyguard. No wonder you dismissed him when you got to England.’

‘I knew he was more than that. And in Brussels I found him in the Peerage. But what difference does that make? I’d love him if he was a fishmonger’s son. I told you—I did not dismiss him, he left me. He does not want me, or he would never have gone like that, without a word, just with a message to my son.’

Bel was biting her lip thoughtfully. ‘Was it worth it?’ she blurted out. ‘Was having him as a lover worth all this heartache?’

‘Yes! Yes,’ Eva added more softly. ‘But he never pretended it was anything more than an affaire.’

‘He never said it was anything more, you mean,’ Bel retorted. ‘Did you tell him you love him?’

‘No, of course not. Can you imagine telling a man you love him when you know he does not love you? How humiliating to see the pity in his face, the tact he will have to use to extricate himself.’

‘Not if he loves you, too—how can you be sure he doesn’t? I do not know about love, I was not in love with my husband and I have taken no lover. But I know my brother, and he is hurting. He is missing you.’

‘Then why did he leave me like that?’ Eva demanded. ‘That hurt me.’

‘I expect he thought a clean break was kindest for you. I imagine it must have been difficult to talk intimately in a houseful of servants and with your son there,’ Bel said thoughtfully. ‘Do you want to marry him?’

‘Yes.’ The word was out of her mouth before she could think. Yes, of course she did.

‘And he can hardly ask the Dowager Grand Duchess, can he? I don’t expect it is etiquette. You will have to tell him you love him and ask.’

‘But…what if he says no?’ Eva shut her eyes at the thought of it, every cell in her body cringing. She could almost hear that cool, deep voice, carefully and kindly masking his amusement at such a preposterous idea.

‘What if he says yes?’ Bel countered. ‘You’ll never know until you try, because, believe me, Sebastian is far too proud to plead with a woman who has been making it clear she wants no entanglements. And you have, haven’t you?’

‘Of course! I would never have got him to agree if he had thought I was going to fall in love with him. What are you smiling about?’ she added indignantly. Bel’s mouth was curving into an unmistakable grin.

‘The thought of my rake of a brother having to be asked if he wanted to make love to a beautiful woman,’ she explained frankly.

‘Is he a rake, then?’ He had said as much, but somehow she had let herself think about gaming and clothes and racehorses, not mistresses and lightskirts.

‘Shocking,’ his loving sister confirmed. ‘But somehow I doubt if he is seeking solace elsewhere this time.’

‘Oh.’

‘And, ma’am…’

‘Eva. Please call me Eva.’ Somehow this stranger had become someone she wanted for a friend.

‘Eva. There is something Sebastian would never tell you, but if I am going to trust you with one of my brothers, I may as well trust you with both. Our half-brother—’

‘The duke?’

‘Yes. Charles. He is never going to marry. Possibly one day Sebastian will succeed him—he is ten years the younger, after all. But if you have a son together, the boy most certainly will.’

‘The duke is unwell? Disabled in some way? Er…disturbed?’

‘The duke does not find women attractive. Not sexually attractive. Do you understand me?’

‘Oh. Yes.’ One came across it, of course, although Louis had had to explain it to her. ‘But is that not illegal?’

‘Yes. You see how I trust you.’

‘But in the case I knew of, the man married to get an heir.’

‘Charles has lived, secluded on his Northumberland estate, for eight years, very happily with his lover who, as far as the rest of the world is concerned, is his steward.’

‘Ah.’ Eva thought about it. ‘That makes no difference to me, the thought of the title.’

‘Good.’ Bel beamed back. ‘But it might to Sebastian, don’t you think? Only he would never mention it, because he is so loyal to Charles.’