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EVIE HAD SPENT ALL afternoon in the dining room, looking over old black and white photographs. Drudgery to some, but going through Smythe Manor’s history was one of the things that brought her joy. She had been tasked with finding photos from previous boat races to share with the media, and she had found some good examples in her search. Evie enjoyed looking back at the people who had once called the manor and the surrounding town home in bygone eras. It reminded her that she was a part of something bigger than herself. Reminded her that her lineage wasn’t just jewels and society balls. It was also something of which to be proud.
Nothing had brought her more pride than the photos of the first women rowers who had taken part in the boat race in the 1940s. Chief among them was her late grandmother, who had used the race to raise money for war widows right before becoming an ambulance driver during the Second World War.
Looking at the photos of her grandmother as a teenager made her heart swell with pride. It made her hope that maybe, if her grandmother’s life could have meaning, her life could, too.
The sound of approaching footsteps dragged her from her task and she glanced up to find Alistair barging into the dining room. Usually he appeared totally unflappable, but right now he looked so agitated that she was certain something was wrong.
“Mr. Godstone? Is something amiss?” she asked. Already her stomach was fluttering at the sight of him. Though she had been in his presence since their argument several days ago, they had never been alone. And they hadn’t spoken to each other either. Just the prospect of exchanging words with him sent a tingle through her whole body.
“Miss Smythe, we need to talk.” He glanced around the room as if to make sure nobody else was present. “In private.”
She knew how dangerous it was speak with him privately. Especially with the rumors swirling around about them. “Why? What’s wrong?”
“It’s about your father,” he replied in a low tone. “And the duke.”
Her heart started to pound. Whatever Alistair needed to tell her seemed so urgent that he was willing to risk another round of gossip. Not to mention more of her anger after their argument in the car days earlier.
“The music room,” she suggested, getting to her feet. “Hardly anyone ever goes in there, so we should be safe. For the moment.”
She moved away from the table, leading Alistair out of the dining room and into the nearby music room. Typically she only used the room to play Christmas carols every year. It was rarely ever used by anyone else nowadays, except for the piano tuner every few months and the servants who occasionally cleaned.
Evie shut the door behind her and turned to him. “What’s happened?”
“I overheard your father and Nicholas speaking just a few minutes ago,” he said.
“That doesn’t sound too untoward,” she said with a frown.
“They were talking about you.”
“I see.”
“No, you don’t.” He raked his hand through his dark hair, a rare signal of unease. “You truly don’t.”
“Alistair—”
“You should sit,” he instructed.
Her heart started to race even faster and she forced herself to sit down in a nearby armchair. “Go on.”
He sighed heavily but didn’t join her in sitting. Instead he shoved his hands into his pockets and started to explain what he had overheard. As Evie took in his story, her first instinct was disbelief. How could it not be when she was being told that her father had lied to her? Had spent most of the family fortune? Not only that, but it appeared that her father was selling her to the highest bidder.
When Alistair was finished speaking, he looked down at her. “Say something.”
“What can I say?” The betrayal was the very last thing she expected. “Are you sure you heard correctly?”
His gaze hardened. “I’m certain.”
“Then my father is a liar,” she said, still trying to process what she had just learned. “I thought he was so honest. So truthful when it came to handling my relationships.”
“I can see how you would believe in him,” Alistair said. “Especially since he made it very clear that he wanted you to marry for a title.”
“I thought he wanted me to marry to advance the family. Now I discover he’s pushing me into marriage to fix his mistakes. To hide what he’s done.” She shook her head in disgust. “I can’t believe this.”
“I’m sorry, Evie. I didn’t want to be the bearer of bad news.”
“Thank you for telling me. Even though it hurts.” All her life she had respected her father. Though she hadn’t always agreed with his methods, she had always believed him to be a forthright man. Honest because he told hard truths others didn’t want to hear. Loyal to their family despite his aggressive and, at times, harsh methods. As long as she had believed that he was making decisions through those two virtues, Evie had almost always ended up going along with her father’s wishes. Even when she questioned him, she eventually relented and did things his way.
Now she was learning that not only was he dishonest, but he was manipulative as w ell. Had betrayed not only Evie, but her mother also.
“This will kill my mother,” she forced out. “The fortune she brought to the marriage is gone, and Father doesn’t even have the decency to tell her the truth.”
“He’s worried about how she will react. You mother is a very strong-willed woman in her own right.”
“Stronger than me, you mean.”
“No, Evie. Of course not.”
“That’s what everyone thinks,” she said. “I may resemble her, but we’re nothing alike. She’s strong and capable. Do you know that marrying my father was her idea? My mother was an heiress with no power over her own finances, and therefore no say in her future. Yet she went to my grandfather and told him that she’d become a baroness whether he liked it or not. She was so persuasive that my grandfather agreed. My grandfather gave her the money to do it. He parted with a considerable portion of his wealth to make his daughter a noblewoman.”
Alistair frowned. “That sounds so cold. Emotionless.”
“My parents didn’t marry for love,” she acquiesced. “Love came later for them, after the wedding. But my mother made things happen. I just take orders.”
“You’ve been trying to be a good daughter.”
“Then I should have tried to be more like my mother. She was able to bring a sizeable fortune to her marriage. What do I have to offer a man?”
He stopped. Went silent so suddenly that she knew it had to mean something. “You have everything to offer. Everything.”
“Before I thought that I was at least bringing money to a potential marriage with Nicholas,” she said with a shake of her head. “Now I’m down to the heirs I’ll give him.”
“You’re more than that,” he said sharply, the beginnings of a reprimand in his tone. “Evie, you are intelligent, kind, accomplished, loving, funny, sweet, and beautiful. If you could only see yourself the way I see you.” He paused then, as if realizing he had probably said far too much. Alistair cleared his throat. “Don’t let that selfish fool Nicholas ever make you feel like you are less than.”
His words made her face flush with heat. Nobody had ever said such things to her. Usually she was complimented on the clothes she wore. Or on her looks, which was down to expertly applied makeup anyway, she was sure of it. All of it was superficial. None of the encouragement she received was about anything innate.
“It doesn’t matter anyway,” she said. “Because my mother can’t know that her fortune is gone. At least not until Nicholas and I are married.”
“What?” Alistair choked out. “You still plan on marrying him after what I’ve just told you?”
She looked up at him and the anguish she saw in his dark eyes filled her with pain. Behind the anguish was disappointment. Alistair was disappointed in her decision. Why that was, she couldn’t know. It couldn’t have been because he was jealous. Or because he had romantic feelings for her. After all, he had acted as if the kiss they’d shared hadn’t meant a thing. He was probably more concerned that she was condemning herself to a loveless marriage.
“Of course I still plan to.” She lifted her chin, daring him to continue challenging her.
“You just said you wanted to be more like your mother,” he reminded her. “But instead of confronting your father and putting an end to this, you’re going to go along with this sham?”
“I’m going ahead with the marriage because it’s precisely what a strong woman like my mother would do,” Evie shot back.
“Evie—”
“It’s Miss Smythe to you,” she said, sharply cutting him off. “The informality between us doesn’t give you the right to express an unsolicited opinion about my future.”
“If that’s the way you want it,” he said coldly.
“It is.” Pain cut through her. Because not only was it abundantly clear that Alistair would never act of his feelings for her if he even had them, but she was realizing that she had to put her childish ways behind her. She had entertained the fantasy of him coming to her rescue for too long. If she let her longing for him get in her way, she was liable to break her own heart. Letting her feelings for him cloud her judgment would only lead to her squandering her chance to save her family from financial ruin. They might have enough to live off for now, but if her father continued they could very well end up bankrupt and out on the street with nothing but the clothes on their backs. She had seen it happen to greater nobles.
Evie threw her shoulders back and added, “If I’m to save my family from the poorhouse, I’ll have to marry Nicholas. By the time my mother finds out my father lost her fortune I’ll be married, with a fortune of my own to give her.”
“You’re going to marry this man for his money.” Alistair didn’t even try to hide the disgust in his tone. “I know you nobles have to be mercenary, but this is too far.”
“It’s really none of your concern.” She stood up, headed for the door, and looked back over her shoulder to leave one parting shot that would end what was left of their friendship. A cruel jab that would save his job and protect her heart. Even now she felt tears prick the back of her eyes. “And anyway, Alistair, if my family has no money how do you expect us to pay you?”
~~*~~
HE SHOULD HAVE BEEN angry. After a day and a night and an afternoon stewing over what Evie had said to him, Alistair should have been enraged by the last thing she had said to him. Yet here he was, a day later, spending his evening washing the silver car he had once restored, feeling an overwhelming sadness. She hadn’t meant it. He knew she hadn’t. It wasn’t like her to be cruel. Thoughtless and spoiled occasionally, but she didn’t have a mean bone in her body. Evie had pushed him away for her own reasons. Likely a good reason. Which was why he was now consumed with a misery he had never felt before in his life.
She was going through with the wedding. Marrying a selfish, cold-hearted bastard who didn’t have the capacity to love a woman he did not even deserve.
Finally the anger flared. Burned through him so violently that he had to take a step away from the car to catch his breath. The Duke of Rothford was going to marry Evie, and there was nothing Alistair could do about it.
“Quite a car, don’t you think?”
Alistair went still at the sound of the baron’s voice. Slowly he turned around to face his employer. “It’s the best of its model I’ve ever seen.”
“You restored cars before coming to work for us, is that correct?”
“I did.” Alistair paused. “Though I didn’t realize you knew that.”
“I was just having a look through your resume,” Lord Smythe said. “I even called some of the places you did work for. Just to make sure your credentials were legitimate. Apparently you restored this very car. Masterful craftsmanship, I must say.”
Alistair’s jaw clenched at the compliment. There was likely far more to this than Lord Smythe’s attempt at praising him. “Is there a reason you looked into my previous work, my lord? If you have questions, I’d be happy to clear them up for you.”
“My daughter is going to be married soon. I have to make sure that everyone around her has a spotless record. Can’t risk even a hint of scandal derailing her marriage.”
Though the baron hadn’t said, Alistair was almost certain that Evie’s father was still worried about the gossip from the servants. The gossip that suggested he and Evie were having an affair. No doubt Lord Smythe’s secret conversation with Nicholas had spooked him into revisiting the rumors in order to quash them. Anything for money, it seemed.
“No, I expect you can’t,” Alistair returned stiffly.
The baron narrowed his eyes at him. “It means that we must talk once again, Godstone.”
“My lord?”
Lord Smythe’s eyes darted around. “Not here. Too many eyes around. Better to talk in the stables, away from onlookers.” The baron turned around and began to walk away. “Follow me, Godstone. We have much to discuss.”
