Arriving at a betrothal ball at which one had no intention of becoming betrothed was much like attending one’s own funeral. People had gathered together; the excess of flowers was profuse enough to cover any stench; and soon everyone would learn the truth—she wasn’t deceased. Or in this case, she wasn’t planning to marry. The lack of expectation on her part left her free to enjoy the festivities—as much as she could, anyway, when there was blasted freesia as far as the eye could see and she was trapped in a gown she disliked.
Evangeline glanced down at the ornate gown she wore, topped with such a show of jewels that her arms grew weary of lifting the weight of them. She touched the large necklace at her throat and looked down the wall to where her mother stood talking with a group of ladies.
This would be the last night she would be forced to wear such an ensemble, and since it was, she was almost relishing the pull of her hair into the elaborate style and the heavy jewels that tugged at her earlobes. It was like the last required smile of a dance with an undesirable partner, and much in the same way she savored the discomfort.
“Would you like some whiskey to numb the pain?” Victoria asked. “I always carry a flask in my reticule.” She raised a salute with a glass of lemonade that didn’t look like lemonade at all.
“Thank you for the offer, but I find I’m quite looking forward to the announcement.” Evangeline nodded in greeting to two ladies who moved past their corner of the large drawing room.
“I thought the gentleman in question swam in cologne and wanted to use you as a trophy to trot out at parties.”
“Oh, that’s all true,” Evangeline replied brightly.
Victoria eyed her over the rim of her lemonade-disguised whiskey. “I’m certain there’s an explanation here somewhere.”
Oh, there was quite the explanation. Evangeline adjusted one of the bracelets at her wrist and watched her mother holding court with some other ladies halfway down the wall from where she stood. “You’ll quite enjoy it, I’m sure.”
“Now I am curious.”
“I only wish everyone was here tonight,” Evangeline mused as her gaze swept over the sizable crowd.
“It’s quite the crush, Evie,” Victoria countered. “No need to get down on things now.”
“I mean Isabelle and Roselyn,” Evangeline turned to say, eyeing her cousin’s glass.
“I don’t think Roselyn is sparing us a thought.” Victoria returned as she handed her glass to Evangeline with a roll of her eyes.
Evangeline took a sip and immediately regretted the action, handing back the glass while choking out, “True.” Roselyn had left town in rather a rush last week. With her elopement and a wedding trip, she would be gone some time, and Evangeline missed her already. But her friend had finally found happiness, and Evangeline was glad of it.
“What of Isabelle?” Evangeline asked once she’d recovered.
“I couldn’t say.” A tightness entered Victoria’s usually smooth voice that Evangeline had never heard before. Victoria downed the last of her whiskey in one swallow and handed the empty glass to a passing footman before she continued. “She doesn’t speak to me these days. We’ve become strangers. She spends most of her days at the museum. I believe she may have a new love interest.” She shrugged, not meeting Evangeline’s gaze. “I don’t see her, not that she minds the space away from me.”
“But you mind being away from her,” Evangeline filled in.
“I do, but don’t ever tell her I said as much,” Victoria warned.
“Your secrets are safe here.”
“Speaking of secrets, I sense that you’re planning something devious for this evening, and you know I enjoy being involved in devious plots.”
“You’re a walking devious plot.”
“Then you see why you require my assistance tonight. It’s simply what I do.”
Evangeline smiled at her cousin. For all the flaws of her family, she was grateful to be related to Victoria. Life would never be dull with her around. Evangeline only hoped Lord Hardaway knew what lay ahead of him with her as his wife. As if she’d conjured up the man, she saw him just inside the far door to the room—speaking with Ash.
What was Ash doing here? He’d come back?
Her smile slipped from her face as she calmed her overwhelming desire to run to him. She’d destroyed things there quite well when she’d commanded him to leave her be. But if she ran to him anyway, heedless of shoulds and oughts, then what would she do? Aside from any wrongdoing he’d committed against her family, this void between them was entirely her fault. He was no longer hers. Would she walk up and chat about the weather as if nothing had happened? There were no words for what was in her heart, save three.
She heaved a sigh. It was too late for such confessions, and tonight she must remain focused on the task at hand.
Ripping her gaze from his, she found her mother in front of the bank of windows that lined one wall of the room. “On with the show,” Evangeline muttered to herself. She left Victoria’s side to move toward them.
“Evangeline, my darling daughter,” her mother said for the benefit of the ladies who surrounded her. The bracelets on her wrists caught the candlelight as she beckoned Evangeline forward.
“Mother,” Evangeline said with a gracious smile for the group.
“We hear you might have exciting news for us this evening,” Lady Smeltings said, clasping her hands together. “We couldn’t imagine a more perfectly suited couple, could we, ladies?”
“Truly? May I ask why you think so?” Evangeline asked.
“Evangeliiiiiiine,” her mother warned through a thin smile. “Of course everyone can see what an ideal match you and Lord Winfield will make.”
“Is that because of our well-matched social standing or how fine I will look in his family’s jewels? As long as he has a title worthy of marrying your daughter to and a home ideal for hosting the ton’s elite, what more could you ask for? We know what’s really important, don’t we, ladies?” Evangeline gave the group a much- rehearsed wink. A few titters of amusement rolled around the gathered group, along with more than one wide-eyed look of shock. These people didn’t know the real Evangeline, but they were about to meet her.
“Evangeline.”
“You see, my mother has spent a great deal of time turning me into the type of lady a lord of Winfield’s level would find appealing. And tonight is the culmination of her hard work. I believe she’s earned a round of applause for her efforts, especially after I nearly wrecked our family when I was twelve years of age—”
“There’s no need to discuss this, Evangeline,” her mother sang through teeth clenched into a smile.
“Do you not think so?” Evangeline turned to ask her mother. “That’s odd, since you don’t miss an opportunity to remind me of my faults behind closed doors.” Shifting her gaze to the circle of ladies who were all staring and hanging on her every word now, she confided, “She even denied me food for several days this season. The effort she’s put forth for this day is…astounding.”
Fans fluttered around them, stirring the freesia-scented air as the ladies looked around the group. No one knew how to respond, since no governess or finishing school had ever covered how to react to the sort of show Evangeline had planned. She looked at her mother, daring the woman to contradict her words.
“All of this is for you, darling. Now, I believe we should make the announcement,” her mother said in a clear effort to change the direction of the conversation.
“Yes. Yes, we should,” Evangeline agreed. “Let’s announce it.”
“Lord Winfield,” her mother called to him. She sounded nervous. She should be.
“Ah, is it time for our happy news?” Winfield asked as he left his conversation to join them.
“I believe that would be wise,” her mother said, eyeing Evangeline.
Evangeline stepped forward and laid a hand on Winfield’s arm to gain his attention. “Do you mind if I say a few words before you make the announcement?”
“Already taking the lead at society events.” He gave her mother a nod of appreciation. “You were correct. She’ll make a fine wife.”
Her mother only tittered uncomfortably and shot Evangeline a look of such warning that it required no words.
“Everyone, might I have your attention?” Evangeline announced and waited for the room to quiet. Heads turned and conversations paused until everyone looked in her direction.
There was no turning back. She’d worked her entire life to be the proper lady she was expected to be, and now, with all of society’s eyes upon her, she was about to toss aside every bit of that work. She swept her eyes across the room before her gaze landed on Ash. He still stood just inside the far door of the room, watching her. Everyone was watching her, but somehow his gaze went deeper, touching her soul without words. Ash wasn’t at her side, but somehow his presence steeled her for what she was about to do.
Swallowing the last shred of fear she possessed, she began. “A few moments ago, I was sharing with these lovely ladies a bit about my mother and our gracious host’s kindness. Mother, step forward if you please.”
“Oh, I wasn’t expecting this.” Her mother clutched a hand over her heart and glanced around uncomfortably at the crowd. “What are you doing?”
Evangeline didn’t answer her. “When my mother, Lady Rightworth, was making arrangements for this event, we…had a quarrel.” She held up a hand to stay any comment. She’d spent years memorizing her half of every conversation, and it was finally her own turn to write the words she would speak.
“I’m aware that it does happen between mothers and daughters. You see, I stated that I preferred to wear a cream-colored gown with no adornment or jewels, and that I was fond of the simplicity of daisies.” She turned to her mother with a polite smile to ask, “You remember, don’t you, Mother? It was just after you made that dressmaker cry with your insults. At any rate, my dear mother, being the wise society matron that she is, instructed me on the correct flowers and gown that you see before you tonight.
“What do I know of my own likes and dislikes, after all? Therefore, tonight I would like to recognize my mother, whose insistent influence can be seen in every single bloom this evening, every bit of abundance used for the sole purpose of impressing everyone here, and every piece of my own ensemble.”
Evangeline raised a glass of champagne intended for the toast to the newly betrothed couple as she continued, “As you can see, there is freesia in every available vase present this evening, and I am dressed in the gown in which she saw fit to display me.”
“Evangeline, you do jest.” Her mother batted her arm playfully, yet hard enough that a bruise would form by tomorrow. “I hope you have a liking for humor, Lord Winfield.”
“I hope so too, Mother.” Evangeline glanced at Winfield, who had a confused look on his face but was otherwise remaining silent. “Of course, you will always be around to make such decisions as flowers and gowns for me so Lord Winfield won’t truly know his wife at all.” She released a false laugh just as her mother had taught her to do and forced her to practice until her voice was hoarse. “He’ll have no idea that I think freesia smells like a brothel at sunset before all the men arrive for the night.”
She took a bloom out of the nearest vase and flung it at her mother. This hadn’t been part of her plan, but blast it all, it felt wonderful. How much pain, fear, and sorrow had she experienced at this woman’s hand? The very woman who should have cared for her had used her position to hurt her. And now that she’d begun she couldn’t stop.
“Lord Winfield won’t know that I find an abundance of freesia blooms perhaps more overbearing than my mother, which is a rather difficult feat to achieve.” She flung two more flowers at her mother, watching as they fell to the floor between them.
“He won’t know that I’m capable of discussing more than just the weather.” She pulled out more flowers and threw them, smiling when they hit their target. There were gasps, but she didn’t care. She wasn’t listening to the gasps. She didn’t look around to confirm the looks of dismay on every face present. She’d wasted far too much of her life trying to be the perfect lady. Everything with her mother was a show.
She wanted a show? This would be one to remember.
Evangeline was going to shed the false identity she’d been forced to wear for so long. She was Evie Green, precision in smiles and gowns be damned.
“Of course, none of my preferences matter since I’ll have no say in my own home, just as I have no say in my life.” She ripped a bracelet from her wrist and hurled it at her mother.
“You’ll tell me what to wear as you always do.” She pulled an earring from her ear and tossed it.
“You’ll tell me what I’m allowed to eat—or not eat, as the case may be.” She removed the other earring and smirked as her mother held her hands up to block her face from harm before Evie hit her arm with the shot.
“You’ll tell me what I must say and force me to rehearse conversations.” She removed the other bracelet and sent it sailing in her mother’s direction. Then she ripped the necklace from her throat and threw it at the woman now surrounded by flowers and jewels, just as she’d forced Evie to be covered in adornment. “You’ll tell me who I am and what I want for the rest of my life. How do I know this? Because you always have!” Evie exclaimed as she threw the last bracelet at her mother. “And for what? To marry me to a gentleman for your own social gain? How high must you climb in society to be happy, Mother?
“It ends today. I will not allow you to manage my life any longer.” She turned and grabbed the half-empty vase of freesia in her fist. But as Evie looked away, her mother grabbed her arm, attempting to drag her away from the watchful eyes of the crowd. Her grip was tight, but Evie was used to such a stranglehold on her person. Wrenching free of the woman, she turned back to face her.
“What a shameful disappointment you are,” her mother hissed at her, but in the silent room her voice carried. “Do you even realize the hardship I’ve suffered? Day after day. It isn’t an easy task putting a shine to something this dull. But I accepted that you were what I had to work with. And I fought every day, dedicated my life to the effort of turning this…you…into something a gentleman might desire. And this is how you show your gratitude? Daft girl. You’re rubbish, just like your plain-faced sister.”
“Don’t speak of Sue in that manner. She deserves both of our apologies after what you forced me to do to her,” Evie warned in a low voice. The vase in her hand grew heavy with the weight of her mother’s words. “For years I’ve been bruised from your effort and hardship. But you won’t force me to do anything ever again,” Evie murmured before upending the vase over her mother’s head.
Evie heard the gasps around her, even a quickly hushed burst of applause, but she didn’t allow it to distract her from the woman before her. Instead Evie stared her down like an opponent in battle. Her mother stood shaking with rage. Evie would have been fearful of the look in her eyes only a few days ago, but not now.
The room was still. She had the attention of everyone present tonight, and for the first time, she was proud of the image they saw before them. She was no longer a fabrication held together by jewels—she was real. She was Evie. “Who I am is enough,” Evie said only loud enough for her mother to hear. “Sue was right about you. This is where we part ways.”
Evie turned. Looking through the crowd of stunned, silent guests, she signaled a footman by the door. A second later a procession of servants entered carrying platters piled high with white daisies. It was every servant that Mother had let go over the past two seasons in London. They’d been more than willing to assist Evie when she’d contacted them this morning. Even on such short notice, there was an army. They moved through the crowd, passing out daisies to everyone in attendance.
A few ladies drew back in horror and refused the simple blossoms, but Evie had wasted enough of her efforts on ladies of their ilk. That ilk could rot. They didn’t understand the beauty of a daisy and they never would. Lady Smeltings shook with what Evie could only assume was indignation over the entire scene while another lady attempted to calm her.
Evie scanned the crowd with an odd sense of detachment. For so many years, she’d lived in fear of just this occurrence, and now that she’d caused such mayhem at a ball, the only thought that washed over her was that she was finally free. She was free of her mother’s reign of terror, but she was also free of society’s expectations for her. And freedom was a grand possession indeed.
“Throwing the family jewels…” she heard a lady say, but they could keep their family jewels. Evie had no need of them anymore.
She moved into the crowd, hearing a gentleman say, “If my daughter ever…” But she stopped listening. If his daughter ever, Evie would be the first to congratulate the poor dear.
As for Evie, there was nothing further her parents could do to harm her. That gentleman’s daughter may never dare to speak her own mind, but Evie had dared. She had dared and now she would dare to live every day in the same manner as she had tonight.
“I never suspected such…” she finally heard on the lips of an older lady, but the woman’s gaze wasn’t focused on Evie, but on the freesia-covered lady that Evie had left behind. No one had suspected how horrible her mother had been to her, but now they knew the truth.
“No more lies,” Evie whispered to herself.
She moved with slow steps through the room, watching as the simple flowers replaced the freesia arrangements, covering every surface with their beauty. Servants were still filing through the doors with tray after tray as the orchestra began playing once more.
She moved toward the door of the drawing room where she’d last seen Ash. Was he still about? Had he seen her spectacle?
“Lady Evangeline,” Lord Winfield said, stepping into her path and stopping her progress.
Drat. She’d been so caught up in seizing her life back from her mother’s grasp that she’d forgotten about their engagement. He was searching her face as if seeing her for the first time, but Evie had no desire to stand about while he struggled to understand what had just happened.
“I won’t be able to marry you, my lord. Apologies for any inconvenience this may cause you.” She gave his arm a pat and veered around him, continuing on her way.
She heard him stammer something behind her, but she didn’t stop. She needed to find Ash.
“That was quite the announcement,” a gentleman said as she passed.
His voice. Where had she heard that voice before? Her stomach clenched before she’d even turned to see who was speaking to her.
“Lord Braxton,” she choked out. “What are you doing here?”
“This was reported to be the event of the evening. It seems the gossips were right on that score.”
Evie stared up at the man, her mind racing. What of Ash? Was he still here? He wouldn’t be safe with these… She raked her gaze across the group of men. Oh dear, they looked like the makings of an angry mob. “Well then.” She swallowed. “I hope you continue to have a lovely evening. If you’ll excuse me…”
“I would appreciate it if you didn’t warn Lord Crosby of our whereabouts,” Braxton said as if he could read her thoughts.
“Certainly.” She took a step away from the man before turning back to him. “In fact, I’ll assist you. He asked me to meet him on the terrace in but a few minutes’ time. I’ll show you the way.”
“Magnificent news,” Braxton exclaimed as he fell in step beside her. “I had my fill of London days ago. My home won’t survive my absence much longer. The sooner I find this man, the sooner I can be gone from this place.”
“He’s terribly difficult to find, isn’t he? You have my sympathies, my lord.” She laughed, thinking of the last year when she’d searched for him as well, although for entirely different reasons.
He grumbled in response as she led the way out the door to the terrace.
“My thanks for your assistance,” he offered as the group of irritable-looking men stepped out with him.
“I’m always happy to assist you in such a manner,” Evangeline said with her most charming smile.
A moment later, the last of the men was through the door and she made her move, slipping back inside and turning the key in the lock. Her heart was pounding as she looked through the sea of people before her in the hall. The buzzing of the crowd had increased with the scene she’d caused. Somewhere in this madness of her own creation, Ash stood unaware of the danger he was in. She only hoped it wasn’t too late.
* * *
Ash didn’t wait for the flowers to be doled out to everyone—he knew a finale when he witnessed one. Instead, he moved through the crowd until he reached the front receiving parlor where Evie spent her days and slipped through the door. He braced a hand on the wall and tried to settle his racing heart, while an odd mix of pride and sorrow threatened to drown him.
She’d done it. She’d stared down her opponent and thrown flowers in the face of danger. She was still his Evie, the real Evie. Only…she wasn’t his anymore. He shook his head and pushed off the wall.
Moving to the opposite end of the room, he stood staring at the settee where he’d once had tea with Evie. It seemed a lifetime ago that she’d chatted about the weather nonstop. If he’d told her then about her father’s connection to his past, would things be different between them now? Would he be the one in the next room being congratulated, or would she have thrown him from the house months ago like an unwanted freesia blossom?
Behind him, the door slammed shut and he spun on his heel. “Evie,” he murmured.
“I locked the lot of them on the terrace,” she said, eyes wide and face flushed. “I can’t believe I did that. Of course, I can’t believe I did a great many things tonight.”
He moved toward her, unable to resist the pull she had on him. “If you ever desired work at a traveling festival, I think you’d lead a fine show.” He lifted a hand toward the wall that separated the parlor from the drawing room. “That was…”
“Long overdue,” she finished, straightening from the door.
“I was going to say brilliant, but yours is true as well.”
She twitched the ribbon trim of her gown with her fingers as she looked at him. “I couldn’t have done this without your encouragement.”
He nodded, unsure how to respond without further pouring out his heart for her to refuse. “Congratulations on your engagement,” he finally blurted out.
“Is that why you’re here?”
“No.” The paper that had brought him here was still in his pocket and quite forgotten until this moment.
She took a breath and looked at the floor between them. “You have to leave.”
He released a harsh breath that almost sounded like a bark of laughter, but there was nothing amusing about the way his heart was aching for her. “I suppose I should have known that was coming. After all, it isn’t the first time you’ve asked me to leave.”
“This isn’t about that,” she corrected, taking a step in his direction. “Lord Braxton is here, and he has a band of men with him.”
“Braxton,” he repeated. “And you’ve come to warn me away.”
“Yes.” She looked at him with pleading eyes. “He wishes you harm. I…feel otherwise.”
“Otherwise, and yet we’re at your betrothal ball.” He gave her a wry smile before looking away.
“It was never about that for me. You must go. Now.”
His entire life had led him to this moment. His promise to his mother. His scheme to exact his revenge on Rightworth. The years of practice to be ready for the task. Evie. It was the last in the list that stayed his movements. He couldn’t leave her, not now, not even for the evening. He would spend the remainder of his life undoing the wrongs he’d done. It wouldn’t undo where their relationship had gone sour, but it was a start.
“I’m not going to leave,” he said in a low voice.
“What of your rules? You never stay,” she pleaded, but he didn’t move. “Why now when you have so much to lose?”
“Turns out even malleable things like rules can break if you truly want them to be broken.”
“They’ll send for the authorities. It would mean prison, Ash. You have to leave. Run!”
He turned back to her, resigned determination meeting the worried look in her eyes. “I’ve already unpacked my trunks.”
She shook her head, clearly not understanding the significance of his statement. “Pack them again.”
“No. I won’t run from this. A very brave person I know threw flowers in the face of her enemy tonight, and I won’t turn tail and run from mine.”
“It’s not the same, Ash.” She took a step closer to him, looking up at him as she spoke. “If you stay, you’ll leave here in chains.”
“And you with a leg shackle.” He laid a hand on her shoulder, the most he dared to touch her. “I have to do this, Evie. I’ve always slipped out the side door when things got difficult. I have a pile of wrongdoings in my past and I don’t want to live in that manner any longer. I never thought I could have more in life until I met you.” He dropped his hand away from her, drawing his fingers into a fist at his side. “I…” love you, he finished to himself.
He wouldn’t leave her, he couldn’t. Not now, not ever. He would never abandon Evie, no matter what that meant for him. But he did need to allow her to walk away for her own good. “I’m glad for your newfound happiness in your situation. Now, I have to sort out my own situation.”
“It will lead you to a prison cell.” Her voice was raspy as she spoke. “This path, it will only lead you to harm.”
“So be it,” Ash murmured as he walked out the parlor door.
* * *
She had to do something. He was here because of her, Evie knew it. He’d come to support her tonight even though she’d forced him from her life, even though his presence here would end in his imprisonment. He was walking toward his own demise and under the impression it was for her. He was righting wrongs? What did she care about that nonsense? She’d loved him, even knowing he was a swindler. She couldn’t allow him to make a sacrifice like this on her account. She had to stop him.
Evie made it as far as the parlor door before realizing she didn’t know what to do. There was no stopping Ash from destroying his own life. She’d tried. Lord Braxton would be angrier than her wet mother with flowers on her head by now. Had anyone found a key and allowed him back into the ball? Perhaps she had time to repair this situation.
She spun around the hall in search of someone or something that could help. She wasn’t certain what she required, but she knew she couldn’t allow Braxton to hurt Ash. She needed something, someone…anything really! She just needed assistance. Grabbing a walking stick her father sometimes used when he took walks in the park from the corner behind the front door, she turned, brandishing it as one might a sword. Only, she’d never used a sword before. Blast her useless training in embroidery!
She turned and gave the walking stick a testing jab, only to hit their butler in the back. Wincing as he cried out in pain, she rushed to his aid. “Terribly sorry. You were not my intended target.”
“My back begs to differ, my lady,” the old man grumbled.
She needed to escape this little mishap and find Ash. Would he be in the drawing room by now? Where was Lord Braxton? As well-planned as the earlier portion of her evening was, this was not going well at all. “Would you like to sit?” she offered, looking around the hall for a chair.
“During a night of entertainment? Certainly not.” He seemed more affronted by her offer of assistance than the jab to his ribs. “This evening has been quite eventful. I can’t imagine the chaos if I chose to abandon my post.”
“Yes, quite eventful,” she agreed.
“In addition to your…display,” he finished, clearly struggling to find a polite word for what she’d done, “there have been quite a few uninvited gentlemen attempting to enter through this very door. The last of which I refused. His attire—”
“Refused. You turned someone away?” she asked.
“He awaits entrance still. On the steps outside.”
“You left a guest waiting on the steps on a damp night such as this?” She reached for the doorknob, but the butler wouldn’t budge. “Perhaps you should abandon your post.”
“My lady!” he exclaimed and steadied his mulish stance in front of the door, blocking her from opening it beyond a small crack.
She glared up at the man standing between her and the door. “If Lord Braxton is allowed entrance—and he has a band of men in his company, all of whom mean one of our guests harm—then I see no trouble in admitting the poor gentleman you left to stand outside in the dark. What is his name?”
“It’s a Mr. Dean.” He drew back a fraction in disgust, reminding her of her mother. “He doesn’t even possess a title, my lady.”
“Neither do you,” she retorted. “Stand aside so I may open the door, or you may do the job you were hired to do and open it yourself.”
He drew himself up to his full height. “I have worked in this home for ten years.”
“And you have clearly spent far too much time in my mother’s company. Open the door,” she commanded.
Then a new voice sounded over her shoulder, making her turn. “My lady, at the risk of having you turn your weapon upon me, I believe I can help in this matter.”
Evie looked up to see the man she’d seen Ash with on several occasions. Perhaps she could send him in search of Ash while she quarreled with her butler. Would he listen to a friend over her? She tried to remember his name from the gardens that night he’d chatted with Isabelle. They’d been introduced, but Ash had been there that night and he’d been quite distracting. “St. James, isn’t it?” she asked, hoping she was correct. “I’ve seen you with Lord Crosby.”
“You have.”
This was it, the assistance she needed. “Perhaps you can speak with him. There’s a lord here who’s set on hurting your friend.”
“Lord Braxton,” St. James replied. “I’m aware.”
“He has a band of men at his back. And Lord Crosby insists—”
“Lord Crosby has a band of men at his back as well. Now, if I could allow Mr. Dean entrance?”
“A band of men?” Evie muttered. Ash worked alone and only kept one man in his employ. Or had that been a lie as well?
But before she could inquire over his meaning, Lord Hardaway joined them in front of the door, with her butler still standing sentry. “St. James, I think you need to come into the next room. It’s worse than we imagined.”
“I knew it would be,” St. James stated.
“My lady, perhaps you should excuse yourself from the festivities,” Hardaway began.
“What?” She raised the walking stick in her hand, preparing to use it if necessary. “Not likely.”
“Very well,” he said, easing away from her. “I know Crosby is sweet on you, and I thought it would be best if you didn’t see…”
“See what?” She didn’t wait for an answer. She was running toward the drawing room door.
When she rounded the doorway, she heard Braxton’s clipped tones over the rustling of the crowd. Everyone was looking toward the middle of the floor. Shoving people aside, she made her way to the front of the audience and gasped.
Ash was there, a line of angry-looking gentlemen blocking his escape. He wore chains at his wrists and was shackled to the chair he sat upon. No. She tried to scream the word, but no sound came out. She was too late to save him.
“This man has stolen funds from many of you,” Braxton announced. “He claims to be gaining investors for his steam works, but it’s a lie. This man is a fraud. His name isn’t even Lord Crosby. I have it on good authority that he’s without a title and from the Isle of Man.”
“Where he is the younger brother of a duke,” Evie cried out. “Mind your wording, sir.”
Murmurs carried across the crowd, but Ash didn’t look up from the point he stared at on the rug before his feet.
“I heard the steam works was true. Release him,” a gentleman yelled from the back of the room.
“Yes, release him,” another man joined in to rumblings of assent.
St. James’s claim of a band of men at Ash’s back flashed in her mind. Was it true?
“You heard lies,” Braxton countered, turning back to Ash. “Your Lord Crosby doesn’t even defend himself.”
“Nor should he have to,” Evie said, stepping forward into the open section of floor around Ash and his enemies. “He’s an honorable man, Lord Braxton. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be present tonight.”
“Honorable?” Braxton asked. “He swindled funds from every one of these gentlemen you see before you. He’s a common thief.”
“No, he was gaining investors,” she tried.
“Investors in Crosby Steam Works? Crosby Steam Works didn’t even exist until he arrived in London. In Bath his name wasn’t even Crosby. Oh, but he claims to be on the edge of a breakthrough. He claims steam will be a part of everyone’s lives and not simply for factories. They are lies, my lady.”
“You don’t know that,” she bluffed. She wasn’t sure what she was doing, but she couldn’t allow Ash to remain there shackled to a chair.
“If what he claims is true, where is the proof? Where is the steam?”
She had no answer. The crowd around her rumbled. There was no proof to be given, and even with a few men in the crowd supporting Ash’s claims, the weight of fact was on Braxton’s side. She looked down to where Ash sat, beaten by his own life choices and with heavy iron holding him to this place. It was too much. Lord Hardaway had been right—she couldn’t watch this. It was too painful. Soon the authorities would arrive and he would be led away from here, away from her. Trapped forever.
“Where is Lord Crosby’s much-promised steam?” Braxton pressed further.
“Here,” someone behind her called out.
At the same time, a loud grinding noise had everyone turning and placing their hands over their ears. A moment of confusion passed before a stream of white vapor began to rise to the ceiling of the drawing room.
“Steam,” Evie murmured.
She turned to look at Ash, who wore the same look of shock as everyone else in the room. Turning back, she saw St. James, Lord Hardaway, and a man she’d never met before pushing a contraption farther into the room. A band of men at his back. But what was his connection to these gentlemen?
“Make a path, if you please,” she called out, shooting a smile over her shoulder at Ash.
The sputtering machine was pushed to the center of the room over fallen daisies, and everyone began to applaud. The unknown dark-haired man in the brown waistcoat nodded his appreciation as St. James and Lord Hardaway clapped him on the back. Even Ash, still chained to a chair, was grinning in amazement.
“Lord Crosby may not be this gentleman’s true name; however, Crosby Steam Works is quite real, as you can see,” St. James stated.
Evie marched forward until she was in front of Lord Braxton. “Remove Mr. Claughbane’s restraints immediately.”
Behind him, the other gentlemen were suddenly gleeful and congratulating one another for having the foresight in their investments. Lord Braxton, however, was studying the contraption. Probably searching for weaknesses.
“Lord Braxton,” Evie said again to gain his attention. “Release Mr. Claughbane. He has just earned you a great deal of money, and I believe is owed your thanks.”
“Perhaps,” Braxton muttered with his gaze still locked on the swirls of steam. “But if he ever comes near my family again, I’ll see that he goes straight to prison.”
“I believe you’re safe there, my lord. I’ve heard that Mr. Claughbane is attempting to leave the swindling business, intent on righting wrongs.”
Braxton shifted to look at her, an understanding of some sort dawning over his face. “See that he does so.” With a final nod, he turned, gave the command to have Ash released, and left the room.
A moment later, Ash was free and swept up in the congratulations surrounding him.
“To Mr. Claughbane and Mr. Dean, founders of Crosby Steam Works,” Hardaway called out and glasses were raised beneath the gathering cloud of steam.
Through the group all vying for his attention, Ash’s gaze met hers for but a moment. In that look there was hope. Then he was pulled away, and she took a step backward. She didn’t belong at his side, no matter how she longed to be there. He had a new business venture to sort out, and she…well, she wasn’t certain where she would go from here. Taking another step back from the group, she became aware of Victoria at her side.
“We look like drowned rats covered in daisies, and I couldn’t be more pleased,” Victoria said with a playful nudge of her cousin’s arm. “I have my work ahead of me, though.”
“How so?”
“If I’m to keep the moniker of the wild one of our group, I’m going to need to improve my play. Well done, Evie.”
In spite of the steam now falling like rain on their heads in the middle of the drawing room, and the desire to rush across the room to an Ash who was no longer hers, she laughed. Her mother’s precious furnishings were destroyed along with everyone’s gowns and formal clothing, yet no one appeared to mind. Merry chatter continued around the room as everyone enjoyed the novelty of it raining indoors. Perhaps in some situations, the weather could be an interesting topic of conversation.
Evie linked arms with her cousin to take a stroll around the room, which currently resembled a sodden garden.
“What will you do now that you’ve banished your mother from your life and ended your engagement?” Victoria asked.
“I’m not sure,” Evangeline said, but as she spoke her gaze found Ash’s once more. “Your sister advised me to listen to my heart.”
“Your heart is leading you toward steamy rooms and rain showers?”
“It is,” she admitted. “Even though I believe my time in this steamy room in particular is at an end.”
“Last week I was down all of my pin money playing cards when I finally was dealt a winning hand. I won every bit back, plus some. Don’t give up hope.”
Evie ignored her cousin’s admission that she’d gambled again and focused on her words. “Hope,” she repeated as she looked across the room to Ash once more. He’d told her he loved her once. Did she dare hope he loved her still?