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Pride in Regency Society: Wicked Captain, Wayward Wife / The Earl's Runaway Bride
Sarah Mallory
Wicked Captain, Wayward Wife When young widow Evelina Wylder comes face to face with her dashing captain husband – very much alive – she’s shocked, overjoyed…and furious! So, whatever his explanation for his outrageous deception, she’ll keep Nick firmly out of their marriage bed no matter his choice of seduction… The Earl’s Runaway BridesWhen Felicity’s husband, dashing Major Nathan Carraway, disappeared into war-torn Spain she discovered a dark secret behind their whirlwind marriage and fled to England… Five years on, Felicity takes the hand of a dangerously handsome dance partner…her commanding husband – back to claim his runaway bride!




SEDUCTION in Regency Society August 2014
DECEPTION in Regency Society September 2014
PROPOSALS in Regency Society October 2014
PRIDE in Regency Society November 2014
MISCHIEF in Regency Society December 2014
INNOCENCE in Regency Society January 2015
ENCHANTED in Regency Society February 2015
HEIRESS in Regency Society March 2015
PREJUDICE in Regency Society April 2015
FORBIDDEN in Regency Society May 2015
TEMPTATION in Regency Society June 2015
REVENGE in Regency Society July 2015
SARAH MALLORY was born in Bristol, England and now lives in an old farmhouse on the edge of the Pennines with her husband and family. She left grammar school at sixteen to work in companies as varied as stockbrokers, marine engineers, insurance brokers, biscuit manufacturers and even a quarrying company. Her first book was published shortly after the birth of her daughter. She has published more than a dozen books under the pen name of Melinda Hammond, winning a Reviewers’ Choice Award in 2005 from Singletitles.com for Dance for a Diamond and a Historical Novel Society's Editors’ Choice in November 2006 for Gentlemen in Question.
Pride in
Regency Society
Wicked Captain, Wayward Wife
The Earl’s Runaway Bride
Sarah Mallory


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

Table of Contents
Cover (#u0cd729fc-2743-57dd-9cae-f2baee03c000)
About the Author (#u91d836a3-3232-5f03-83a3-fef57947acd6)
Title Page (#u30146067-4999-50b0-890f-8bf57cfbf5b8)
Wicked Captain, Wayward Wife
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
The Earl’s Runaway Bride
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Epilogue
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

Wicked Captain, Wayward Wife (#u1d11a163-6c83-5851-a8df-71cae45a4513)
To the Romantic Novelists’ Association, for the unstinting friendship and support I have found there

Chapter One (#u1d11a163-6c83-5851-a8df-71cae45a4513)
Makerham Court, Surrey—July 1783
‘Ouch!’
Evelina jumped as the rose thorn pricked her finger. How timely, she thought, staring at the tiny bead of blood. She had just been thinking that this was the most dangerous activity she undertook; cutting flowers. She sighed. These sheltered ornamental gardens at Makerham summed up her life; ordered, secure, protected. She wiped the blood from her finger and firmly suppressed the vague feeling of dissatisfaction. She had become more aware of it recently, this impression of being stifled. But she was happy, wasn’t she, keeping house for her grandfather? He had promised to take care of her, to provide for her. She need not worry about anything.
Evelina picked up her basket of summer flowers and was walking back to the house when she heard the sound of hoofbeats on the drive. She looked up to see a rider approaching on a rangy black horse. At the stone bridge that gave access to the ancient, moated house she stopped, her head tilted enquiringly as he rode up. The man drew rein and jumped down. He was very tall, she noted. Strong, too, judging by the width of shoulder beneath his dark riding jacket and the powerful legs encased in buckskins and gleaming top boots. His black hair was caught back with a ribbon and there was a rakish look in his laughing blue eyes. He looked like an adventurer, she thought. Tall and dark and…
‘You must be Evelina.’ His voice was rich and warm as honey. ‘How do you do?’
Without waiting for her reply he reached out, pulled her into his arms and kissed her. Eve was so shocked she dropped her basket. She made no effort to pull away; with his arms holding her so firmly it would have been impossible to do so, even if she had wanted to. She had never been kissed by a man before and the sensation was surprisingly pleasant, jolting her senses alive so that she was aware of the scent of his skin, the mingled smell of soap and spices and horses and…she did not know what. Man, she supposed.
He raised his head and gave her a rueful smile, although Eve thought the glint in his deep blue eyes positively wicked.
‘Oh Lord,’ he said, stepping back from her. ‘That was not meant to happen.’
Eve stared up at him, shaken, and wondered what a well-bred young lady should do in this situation. With some deliberation she brought her hand up and dealt him a ringing slap across the face.
He flinched a little, but continued to smile down at her, mischief glinting in his blue eyes. ‘I suppose I deserved that.’
It took an effort for Eve to look away from that hypnotic gaze. Her basket was lying on the floor, roses, irises and common daisies tossed on to the drive. With shaking hands she began to gather them up. The man dropped onto one knee beside her, unsettling her with his nearness.
‘You do not seem very pleased to see me,’ he remarked.
She concentrated on collecting up the flowers and putting them back into the basket. She said stiffly. ‘I do not know you sir.’
‘Oh, did your grandfather not tell you?’ Laughter trembled in his voice. ‘I am Nick Wylder.’ He picked up a rose and held it out to her. ‘I am the man you are going to marry.’
Eve jumped to her feet. The man rose in one agile movement and looked down at her with pure amusement in his eyes. A devil-may-care man, she thought. His lean, handsome face was too attractive. Dangerous. Instinctively she drew away from him.
‘Your jest lacks humour, sir.’
Those mobile black brows drew together slightly. ‘Has your grandfather not told you? Then my apologies, Miss Shawcross.’
She regarded his flashing smile with suspicion. ‘I see no remorse in you sir. I do not believe you know how to apologise.’
He stepped back, his smile softening into something gentler as he said contritely, ‘I have truly offended you. Pray, ma’am, forgive me. I did not mean to do that.’
She was not proof against his beguiling look and found herself weakening. She made an effort to maintain her scornful attitude. ‘It seems to me, sir, that there is much you do not mean to do!’
He treated her again to his devastating smile and this time she noticed the dimple in his cheek. It was so very distracting.
‘Aha, you are not so angry after all. I see the twinkle in your eye, Miss Shawcross. You would laugh, if you were not determined to put me in my place! Am I forgiven, ma’am?’
She turned away that he would not see her smile. ‘That depends upon your future conduct Mr…Wylder. Am I to understand that you have come to see my grandfather?’
‘I have indeed, ma’am, if he is well enough to receive me. I sent my man over this morning to advise you of my arrival.’
She inclined her head. ‘I have not seen Grandpapa since we broke our fast together, so I know nothing of your message. However, that does not mean you are unwelcome. Pray come in, sir, and I will ascertain if he can see you.’
She left the visitor in the great hall with its walls lined with armour. Shields, swords and halberds battled for place between the long windows, a reminder of the turbulent period when the hall was built. As she ran up the stairs she glanced back at him. He was standing before the huge fireplace, studying the crest carved into the overmantel. His head was thrown back and she was treated to an excellent view of his profile with its straight nose and strong jaw-line. Powerful. Confident. She thought how well he would fit into those unsettled times.
As soon as she was out of sight at the top of the stairs she stopped and leaned against the wall. Her heart was thudding uncomfortably in her chest. So it had happened; her grandfather had always promised her that one day he would bring home a husband for her. He had told her to trust him to find a suitable gentleman, one who would look after her as he had always done. One who would make her happy. She pressed her hands to her cheeks. She had expected Grandfather to bring home someone like Squire Amos from Makerham village, someone solid and respectable. There was no doubt that the gentleman now standing in the great hall was solid—when he had crushed her to him he had felt very solid indeed—but she doubted very much that he was respectable. Eve was aware that she had led a very sheltered life, but she knew that respectable gentlemen did not kiss young ladies before they had even been introduced! And respectable young ladies did not stay to exchange banter with such scoundrels. Eve wondered why she had not run away when the man released her. Somewhat to her surprise she realised that he had not frightened her. She had been shocked, yes, and outraged, but never afraid. She took a deep breath and smoothed her hands down over her gown. If only it was as easy to smooth her disordered nerves. If Grandpapa discovered the cause of her agitation he would be alarmed; he might even send his visitor away. With a little jolt of surprise she realised that she really did not want that to happen.
Eve found her grandfather in the morning room. His winged chair had been moved to the window and he was sitting now with a blanket across his knees, gazing out over the park.
‘Grandpapa?’
Sir Benjamin Shawcross had been a good-looking man in his youth, but ill health had aged him prematurely and although he was not much more than sixty, his skin had grown sallow and the flesh hung loosely on his large frame.
However, despite the great effort it cost him every morning, he insisted that his valet, Rooney, should help him out of bed and dress him in his velvet coat and fresh linen. His sparse grey hair was hidden by a curly wig in the old style and there was always a twinkle in his faded blue eyes. It was in evidence now as he looked at his granddaughter.
‘Eve, my dear, come in. Rooney has made me comfortable here, you see, where I can look out of the window. I have a visitor, you know.’
‘Yes, sir, I do know.’ Eve put down her basket and slipped across the room to his side.
As she bent to drop a kiss on his forehead she glanced out of the window. The room looked out over the front drive, but thankfully any view of the little stone bridge was blocked by the bulk of the Gate House tower. Her grandfather would not have seen her first encounter with his guest. She dropped down to sit on the footstool beside his chair and gathered his gnarled old hands between her own. ‘Mr Wylder is even now in the hall, Grandpapa.’
‘Captain, my love; he is Captain Wylder. He sailed with Admiral Howe against the French and acquitted himself well, by all accounts.’
‘That may be so, sir, but before he is brought up I want you to tell me just why he is here.’
‘A pretty thing, child, if I must answer to you for inviting a guest to my own house!’
Eve was not deceived by his blustering tone. She saw the consternation in his faded eyes, but she was not to be swayed from her course. ‘Please, Grandfather, tell me.’
‘I have known the family for years. Nick Wylder is the younger brother of the Earl of Darrington. Of course we are not well acquainted, for he is so much younger than I am and he has spent most of his time at sea. He resigned with Howe in ’78, you know. Neither of them thought very much of the government’s handling of the American War but before they could return to England they were caught up in the defence of Rhode Island. Clever bit o’ work, that.’ Sir Benjamin chuckled. ‘Outwitted the French all right and tight, and young Nicholas in the thick of it. Commended for his bravery, mentioned in the newspapers. You may remember it—’
‘That was five years ago, Grandpapa,’ Eve interrupted him quietly but firmly. ‘And I do not remember you ever drawing my attention to a Captain Wylder.’
‘No, well, perhaps not. In fact I did not recall much about it myself, until young Nicholas sought me out at Tunbridge Wells last month. It was Percy Anderton told me his history. Percy lost his son in the action, you see, and Captain Wylder came to see him as soon as he returned to England, to pay his respects. Percy was very impressed. Captain Wylder has friends in the government, too it appears—young Pitt and Lord North—’
‘But you said Captain Wylder sought you out, Grandpapa,’ Eve persisted, frowning. ‘Why should he do that?’
‘Why should he not? Old family friend, after all.’
‘Yes, but why should he wait until now to look you up?’
‘I have no idea, but I am very glad he did. A fine young man, Eve, and very attentive to me. I invited him to call upon us…’
‘But you have not said a word about him to me, Grandpapa.’
Sir Benjamin stirred uncomfortably in his chair. ‘No, well, the time did not seem propitious, and after all, I did not know if he would really come.’
‘Have you brought him here as a husband for me?’ she asked in her direct way.
‘He did mention to me that he was looking for a wife, and…’
‘And you want me to take a husband.’
‘Only if you are inclined to do so, Evelina.’
‘I have told you, Grandfather, I have no wish for a husband yet.’
‘But you will need someone to look after you when I am gone.’
‘Grandpapa!’
‘Do not frown at me, Eve. We both know that I am failing. Doctor Scott has warned us that my heart is very weak now; the end cannot be far away—’
‘You must not say such things,’ she said fiercely.
‘Ignoring the inevitable will not prevent it, my love. If Nick Wylder wants to wed you I recommend you to accept him. I shall not insist, of course, but I would ask that you consider the matter very carefully.’ He squeezed her fingers and released them. ‘Now, we must not keep our guest waiting any longer. Have Captain Wylder fetched up, Evelina.’
‘But, sir—’
He waved his hand impatiently. ‘Would you have me thought uncivil, gel? Tell Green to show him up.’
The order was given, and Eve went back to stand beside her grandfather. He reached for her hand.
‘Trust me on this, love; I am thinking only of you. Ah…’ He turned towards the door as the butler announced his visitor. ‘My dear sir, you are very welcome! Forgive me for not getting up to meet you, but my legs are very weak today. The baths at Tunbridge did not help me overmuch on this occasion.’
‘I am sorry to hear it, Sir Benjamin.’
Evelina watched Captain Nick Wylder stride into the room, his healthy vigour even more in evidence when contrasted with her grandfather’s feebleness. He came forwards and bowed to his host, exuding energy. Sir Benjamin smiled and nodded.
‘You have met my granddaughter, Evelina?’
Eve found those blue eyes fixed upon her. She had the strange impression that he could read her innermost thoughts. She put up her chin and returned his look defiantly.
‘Yes indeed.’ Nick Wylder turned and made a fine leg to her. ‘That is, we introduced ourselves, but I am glad of this opportunity to be more formally presented, sir.’ His eyes laughed at her. ‘I fear Miss Shawcross disapproves of me.’
She sank into a curtsy, her cheeks burning. How was it possible to want to laugh and be cross at the same time? She had no experience of gentlemen like Captain Wylder, but instinct told her to beware of him.
Eve determined she would not talk to the captain but her resolve was unnecessary. By the time she had risen out of her curtsy, he had engaged Sir Benjamin in conversation, discussing with ease such diverse subjects as the efficacy of hot baths, the pleasures of hunting and the grand tour. There was nothing for her to do but to arrange her flowers in the vase Green had provided for her. She was out of reason cross that she could not deliver a snub to the laughing gentleman.
‘I saw you ride in, Captain,’ said Sir Benjamin. ‘I take it your baggage follows you?’
‘Yes, sir. Richard Granby, my valet, accompanies it in my travelling carriage.’
‘You are staying?’ Eve blurted out.
Once more those disturbingly blue eyes rested upon her.
‘I am afraid so. Will that inconvenience you?’
‘N-no…’ she faltered. ‘That is, you are staying no more than the one night, I hope.’
Sir Benjamin chuckled. ‘Take no notice of my granddaughter, Captain Wylder. She is a great one for jesting.’
‘So I have noticed, Sir Benjamin.’ He smiled across at her in a way that made Eve want to hit him.
‘Captain Wylder is making a prolonged visit with us,’ explained Sir Benjamin.
‘Really?’ Eve pinned on a brittle, sugar-sweet smile.
‘I am greatly indebted to your grandfather for allowing me to stay with you,’ Nick bowed to her. ‘I shall have plenty of time to grow used to your funning.’
Eve turned back to her flower arrangement. Her angry, jerky movements broke one of the stems and she was obliged to breathe deeply and calm herself before she continued. The butler came in with a decanter and two glasses and after that the gentlemen paid her no attention, engrossed in their discussions of hunters and bloodlines, so, as soon as she had finished, Eve muttered her excuses and made her escape.
Nick watched her leave the room, her little heels kicking up her skirts as she crossed the floor. A slight cough from Sir Benjamin made him turn and he found his host was holding out his empty glass, indicating with the lift of an eyebrow that it should be refilled. Nick hesitated and the older man winked at him. ‘Come along, my boy. My butler and my granddaughter might argue that brandy is not good for me, but you have not heard my doctor say so. Life is for living, sir, and I mean to enjoy what little time I have left.’
‘I cannot fault that philosophy, Sir Benjamin.’ Nick grinned and carried both glasses over to the decanter. ‘Miss Shawcross seems a little agitated,’ he remarked. ‘I do hope my visit is not inopportune…’
Sir Benjamin chuckled. ‘Her feathers are ruffled because I omitted to tell her you were coming.’
‘I gathered that much.’ Nick smiled to himself as he recalled his first meeting with Evelina Shawcross. ‘I am afraid I might have ruffled her feathers even more.’
‘No matter, she’ll come round.’ Sir Benjamin sipped his brandy. ‘She’s a good gel, my granddaughter. Levelheaded and with as sweet a nature as any man could wish. She’s not the flighty sort, never shown any desire to go off exploring.’ The old man sighed a little. ‘Her mother was quite the opposite. Never happier than when she was travelling the world. Took my son off all over the place when they was married. But Eve’s different, a quiet gel. She needs a husband who can give her all the comforts she has enjoyed here at Makerham. A man who will look after her properly. Can you do that, Captain?’
Nick suddenly found himself fixed with a fierce stare from those faded eyes. He returned the look steadily.
‘You know my circumstances, Sir Benjamin. I believe I can keep a wife in tolerable comfort.’
‘Yes, yes, but will you make her happy?’
Nick fought down a smile.
‘I have never had any complaints yet, sir.’
‘That’s what worries me, a good-looking dog like you. I saw the women at Tunbridge making eyes at you, throwing out lures—and some of ’em old enough to know better!’
‘But what you didn’t see was my responding to any of their—er—lures,’ replied Nick evenly. ‘Let us be clear, Sir Benjamin. I am not a monk; there have been plenty of women in my life, but none of ’em more than a flirtation. If I take a wife, she will have nothing to fear on that score.’
‘I’m glad to hear it. Well, sir, if you are wishful to marry my granddaughter, then go to it. But mind you; it must be her decision. I’ll not have her coerced into anything.’
Nick raised his glass.
‘From the little I have seen of the lady, sir, I think she will make up her own mind.’

When Eve went to her room to change for dinner, her maid Martha was laying out her new gown.
‘My blue silk?’ she exclaimed. ‘Is that not a little grand for a family dinner?’
‘We must make you look your best for your visitor, miss.’
‘I am not sure the occasion warrants such a display,’ Eve objected mildly, but Martha was not to be deterred.
‘Captain Wylder is a fine gentleman, miss. Son of an earl, his man says.’
‘I know that, Martha.’
‘Ah, but did you also know that he is a hero? In the Americas he was, fighting the rebels. Captain Wyldfire they called him.’ She spread out the petticoats for Eve to step into them.
‘Martha, what have I told you about repeating servants’ gossip?’
‘This is not gossip, miss,’ Martha corrected her; ‘It is information. He was a bold and fearless captain, Mr Granby told me, always to be found where the fighting was thickest. That’s where he got the name Wyldfire, they say, because he blazed his way through the enemy lines.’
‘And who says so? His own servants, I don’t doubt.’
‘Aye, well, Mr Granby told me some of it, but William the coachman also had it from his groom, who has been with the family for ever.’
Eve gave a little huff of disbelief. ‘I believe they are all besotted with their master. I shall write to my old school-friend Maria Scott—Lady Gryfford as she is now. Her letters are always full of society gossip so I am sure she will be able to furnish me with a true account of our guest.’
‘I am sure she will, miss,’ replied Martha comfortably. ‘And I am sure it will bear out all that has been said. Well, you only have to look at him, so tall and handsome as he is. A real hero, is Captain Wyldfire.’
‘Well there will be no need for him to be a hero in this house,’ retorted Eve crossly. She glanced at the red leather box on the dressing table. ‘What is that?’
‘Your sainted mother’s sapphires.’ replied Martha. ‘Sir Benjamin ordered them to be sent up to you. He wants you to wear them tonight.’
Eve put a hand up to her bare neck. ‘G-Grandpapa sent them?’
‘Why, yes, miss. Most insistent he was.’
She stared at the box. At last she said quietly, ‘Then, of course, I must wear them.’

Nick stood by the fireplace in the little parlour and looked down at the flames leaping merrily in the hearth. One of the logs had fallen forward; he resisted the temptation to push it back into place with his toe. Richard had worked hard to coax him into his dark blue frock-coat and the knee breeches that were the required mode of evening dress for a formal dinner and he knew his trusty servant would think his efforts wasted if he was to end up with wood ash on his soft leather shoes or, even worse, spattered on his white silk stockings. Instead he picked up the tongs and rearranged the logs until the flames were licking hungrily around them. He straightened as the door opened and Miss Shawcross entered. After their encounter on the drive he thought he had himself well under control, but it was an effort to prevent his jaw from dropping as he looked at her. She was a vision in cobalt blue and silver lace, her glorious hair piled on her head and one glossy black curl falling on to her shoulder. Nick smiled to himself; he had come to Makerham determined to court Evelina Shawcross, even if she had been hunchbacked and with a squint. This glorious creature was like a gift from the gods. She aroused in him all that was good—and bad! There was a troubled look on her face as she came into the room and he said hurriedly,
‘I understood this is where you meet before dinner…’
‘You are perfectly correct, sir. I am only sorry that there was no one here to greet you.’
He smiled.
‘You are here now, that is all that matters.’ He walked forwards to give her his arm. The sapphires around her neck twinkled, enhancing the beauty of that slender column. He longed to put up a hand and touch the creamy skin, but she was like a wild animal, tense and ready for flight. He must go carefully.
‘Miss Shawcross, you are not happy with me here.’
‘Oh—no, I—’
Her hand fluttered on his arm and he covered her fingers with his own. She was trembling.
‘Please,’ he murmured, ‘while we are alone let me say this. If you would prefer me to leave, I will make my excuses to Sir Benjamin—’
She stopped, her eyes downcast, the long lashes black against her pale cheeks. Nick watched the play of emotion on her countenance; saw the resolute set of her mouth.
‘You are my grandfather’s guest, sir. It is his will that you should stay, and to me his will is paramount.’
‘But I shall be guided by your wishes, lady. Tell me what you want me to do.’ He continued softly, ‘We made a wretched beginning. Forgive me for that, Miss Shawcross, and allow me to show you that I can be a gentleman.’
He saw the delicate blush tinge her cheeks, read the uncertainty in her eyes when she looked at him, then his gentleness was rewarded with a shy smile.
‘Very well, Captain Wylder, I am ready to be persuaded.’
There was a twinkle in those soft brown eyes, a hint of mischief. The temptation to steal another kiss was very strong, but he resisted. That would not be the action of a gentleman! Instead he escorted her to a sofa. He intended to sit down beside her, but as she sank down she spread out her blue skirts, completely covering the seat. With a wry grin he moved to a chair on the opposite side of the fireplace. It would be slow work to win her round, but he found himself warming to the challenge.
Evelina was aware of an irrational disappointment. She had been convinced that he was going to kiss her again, and her heart leapt into her throat at the thought of it. The man had about him an air of danger, a delicious sense of the unknown that set her pulse racing. But now he was determined to be the gentleman. She was glad of it, of course. She flounced down upon the sofa, her silken petticoats billowing around her.
‘Your grandfather explained to me that you and he live here alone,’ remarked the captain, lowering his long frame into a chair. ‘He told me your parents died when you were a child. I am very sorry.’
‘Thank you, but you do not need to pity me; it was more than ten years ago. My parents liked to travel a great deal and I was left at home with Grandpapa, so I never knew them that well; I think they were a very restless couple.’ His sympathetic silence encouraged her to say more. ‘It was a fever; they were on the Continent when they were struck down.’ She paused briefly then forced a smile. ‘But I am very happy living here with Grandpapa, I want for nothing.’
‘But you are very secluded here; do you not find it a little…lonely?’
‘Grandpapa is companion enough for me,’ she responded quickly. ‘I have no wish for female company—and I am beyond the age of needing a chaperon.’
The corners of his mouth lifted fractionally. ‘Remembering our first encounter, I beg to disagree with you on that last point, Miss Shawcross.’
Eve blushed hotly. She was relieved that her grandfather’s entrance created a timely diversion.
Sir Benjamin came in, leaning heavily on his stick and declaring that they should go directly into the dining room.
‘If I sit down here I shan’t be able to get up again,’ he explained with a chuckle. ‘No, no, my dear, I do not need your arm; let Wylder escort you.’
They processed slowly to the dining room, where Eve found herself sitting opposite Nick Wylder.
‘I told Green to rearrange the table,’ said Sir Benjamin, correctly interpreting her look of surprise. ‘Silly for you to be sitting at the far end and Wylder here, halfway between the two of us. Much better to have you near me, where I can see you both. Just a snug little dinner, Wylder,’ he continued. ‘We do not stand upon any ceremony here. It’s plain cooked fare, but you won’t find better in the county, and you have Evelina to thank for it.’
‘Grandpapa!’ She shook her head at him.
‘No need for this modesty, miss! It is only right that our guest knows what a treasure you are. She has been mistress here since she finished her schooling.’ Sir Benjamin laughed. ‘Just seventeen years old, she was then, Wylder. I wanted her to go off and stay with her young friends, to enjoy herself, but she would have none of it. She insisted upon coming home to live with me. Not that she needed to, for we have a very capable housekeeper in Mrs Harding, but Evelina was determined that she would look after me. And she has done so, magnificently.’
‘I do not doubt it,’ returned Captain Wylder. ‘And how many years has that been, sir?’
‘Seven,’ responded Sir Benjamin instantly.
While her grandfather turned his attention to his plate, Eve glared across the table at Nick Wylder. He met her look with a glinting smile.
‘Four-and-twenty,’ he murmured. ‘Far too old for a chaperon.’
‘Positively on the shelf!’ she retorted. Eve signalled to the footman to refill the glasses. ‘So, Captain, you were at Tunbridge Wells. Were you taking the waters?’ She added sweetly, ‘A touch of gout, perhaps?’
His eyes acknowledged the hit, but he said merely, ‘No, I was there on business.’
‘Oh? And is your business now concluded, that you have time for a prolonged stay here at Makerham?’
Again that wicked glint flashed in his deep blue eyes. ‘I hope to conclude my business while I am here.’
‘And just what is your business, sir?’ Eve picked up her wine glass.
‘Marriage.’
She choked.
‘Oh dear, dear,’ muttered Sir Benjamin. He bent a reproving look upon his guest. ‘I had not planned to broach this delicate subject for a day or so, sir.’
‘Then I apologise, Sir Benjamin, but given your granddaughter’s advanced years I did not wish to waste time.’
Evelina, still recovering from her choking fit, could only gasp. Sir Benjamin’s mouth fell open, then his face creased into a smile.
‘Ah, you are funning, sir! Giving my girl her own again, what? Eve, my dear, I think you have met your match, here. Captain Wylder is as big a jokesmith as yourself!’
Evelina forced her lips into a smile, but the look she threw at Nick Wylder promised dire retribution.

Nick turned his attention to his dinner. Damme, but he was enjoying himself, and far more than he had anticipated. Sir Benjamin was a considerate host and although he was confined to the house by his poor health he was remarkably knowledgeable and the conversation did not flag. Then there was Miss Shawcross. She was a mixture of spirit and adorable innocence; an unforeseen bonus to his plans. Nick realised with a little jolt of surprise that he wanted to know more about her.

Eve excused herself after dinner and went to her room to dash off a letter to her old school friend.
I understand Captain Wylder to be something of a hero, she wrote at the end her letter. But however highly he is regarded as a sailor, I hope you can furnish me with some information as to his character as a man. ‘There,’ she said to herself as she applied her seal. ‘If I know anything of Maria, she will be only too delighted to find out everything there is to know about Captain Nick Wylder.’
Sir Benjamin did not keep late hours at Makerham, so it was not until the following morning that she saw their guest again. It was her custom, upon summer mornings such as these to take a stroll through the ornamental gardens that surrounded Makerham. Sheltered and secluded at the bottom of a wooded dell, the moated manor house was always inviting, but looked at its best in summer. She loved the way the old stone seemed to glow and the golden sunlight twinkled in the leaded windows; it gave the old house a fairy-tale quality. She was wandering through the lavender-lined paths when she heard footsteps on the gravel behind her. She turned to find Captain Wylder approaching.
‘Good morning, Miss Shawcross. You are an early riser.’
‘Yes. I often take a walk at this time; the gardens are at their best with the dew still on the flowers.’
‘Then I will join you, if I may?’
After a brief hesitation Eve nodded. She would not take his arm, but walked along beside him, keeping a safe distance between them. At Nick’s request she pointed out the more unusual flowers and described to him the history of the building. When they reached the end of the ornamental gardens they stopped and turned, looking back at the old house.
‘It’s beautiful,’ said Nick. ‘It is clear that you love Makerham.’
‘It is my home.’
‘But it is entailed.’ At his words she glanced up at him and he spread his hands. ‘Your grandfather told me.’
‘Yes. When Grandfather dies the estate will pass to my cousin, Bernard Shawcross.’
‘And you will have to leave.’
Evelina thought of her cousin with his clammy hands and air of ownership. He seemed to assume that she was included in his inheritance. Eve knew she would do everything in her power to avoid that fate.
‘Yes,’ she said quietly. ‘I will have to leave.’ The chiming of the bell in the clock tower brought her head up. ‘It is time I went indoors. Grandfather will be coming downstairs shortly.’
Nick accompanied her back to the house, but any plans for furthering his suit were dashed when she announced that they would meet again at dinner.
‘But you will be breaking your fast now, Miss Shawcross?’
She shook her head. ‘Breakfast will be served to you and Grandpapa very shortly, Captain. I have arranged to walk into Makerham.’
‘Will you not wait for me? I should like to escort you.’
Again a little shake of the head. Nick was convinced there was a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.
‘I go to take a little food to the poor in the village. They would not thank me for bringing a stranger into their homes. Grandpapa will be very pleased to have your company for the day,’ she added with a sunny smile. And I shall be happy to know that he is entertained.’
Nick watched her walk away, a little smile playing around his own mouth. Out-manoeuvred, by Gad. Miss Evelina Shawcross might be an innocent, but she was not unintelligent. To win her over would be a challenge. Nick’s smile grew.
He could never resist a challenge.

Chapter Two (#u1d11a163-6c83-5851-a8df-71cae45a4513)
‘Evelina, my love, you are being quite tiresome!’
Sir Benjamin’s mild reproof brought his granddaughter’s wide-eyed gaze to his face. They were sitting together in the morning room where Rooney had helped Sir Benjamin to his favourite chair and was tenderly placing a rug over his legs. Eve waited until the valet had finished and was making his way out of the room before she answered.
‘Grandpapa, I have no idea what you mean.’
‘What game is this you are playing, Eve? I bring Captain Wylder here as a suitor and you seem bent on avoiding him.’
‘No, no, Grandpapa, I have been most attentive!’
‘You have presided over my dinner table and served him tea in the drawing room after,’ retorted Sir Benjamin. ‘Hardly effusive behaviour, my love. I understand from Rooney that you are gone from the house before breakfast every day and do not return until late in the afternoon. Are there suddenly so many distressed families in Makerham that require your attendance?’
‘The summer has brought on a deal of sickness and ague, sir.’
‘Then you must send Martha with a basket of food, child. I will not have you neglect our guest.’
Eve cast down her eyes. ‘Yes Grandpapa.’ She stole a glance at Sir Benjamin and saw he was frowning at her. She put out her hands. ‘Oh, sir, pray do not be angry with me. It is such a novelty to have any man save yourself in the house and it is taking me a little time to grow accustomed.’
She might have added that she found her grandfather’s guest far too attractive for her comfort, but decided against it.
‘Well I consider four days is long enough for you to grow accustomed, as you put it. I don’t say that the captain isn’t excellent company, but it’s not me that he has come here to see. If you continue to absent yourself, he will think you do not like him.’
‘It is not that, Grandpapa—’
‘My dear child, I know this is very sudden for you. When I took you to Tunbridge Wells a few years ago I had hoped that you might form an alliance, but none of the gentlemen took your fancy, and you could not be persuaded to stay with your friends in London—’
‘I could not leave you, Grandpapa,’ she said quickly. ‘You were ill and I wanted to look after you.’
He patted her hands. ‘Your heart is too kind, Eve my love, but I should have made you go; imprisoned here with me, you have no opportunity to meet eligible gentlemen.’
‘But I have not been unhappy, sir.’
‘That is not the point, Evelina,’ Sir Benjamin leaned forwards, saying urgently, ‘I am growing weaker, my love. When I am gone there will be no one to protect you. Your cousin inherits Makerham, there is nothing to be done about that, but I do not like him. I have seen the way he looks at you when he is here. I would not have you left to his care.’
She shivered at the thought. ‘You are right, Grandpapa, I do not think I should like that.’
‘So you will consider Captain Wylder’s suit?’
‘Yes, Grandpapa. If he should offer for me, I will consider his suit.’ Eve smiled. She had made up her mind that she would not relax her guard until she had received word from London about Captain Wylder. Now, with her friend Maria’s letter nestling in her pocket, she had decided upon a course of action. ‘I am sorry if I have not been as attentive to our guest as you would like, Grandpapa. I promise you I am now quite ready to entertain Captain Wylder. In fact,’ she added with a twinkle, ‘I will start this very day!’

Nick looked up from the letter he was reading as Richard Granby came into the room.
‘Bad news, Captain?’
Nick shook his head.
‘No news at all,’ he said. ‘Our quarry has gone to ground.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that.’ Granby hesitated and then said delicately, ‘And, if I might enquire, how are your plans progressing with the young lady?’
Nick tossed the letter aside. ‘They are not,’ he said shortly. ‘I am wondering if we should weigh anchor and try another tack. The admiralty wants answers and there are other leads to follow…’ his lips twitched ‘…though none so attractive.’
A knock at the door interrupted them. Nick hurriedly took up his letter and put it away while Granby answered the door. He heard a murmur of voices and turned to see his valet approaching, a folded paper in his hand.
‘A note for you, Captain.’
‘Well.’ A slow grin appeared as he read the missive. ‘Perhaps all is not lost. Miss Shawcross wants to see me. In the garden.’
Nick strode along the gravelled paths until he reached the yew walk. At the far end was a small clearing where a statue of Pan nestled against the surrounding hedge. On either side white-painted benches had been placed for those who wished to rest for a while in this sheltered retreat. Evelina was sitting on one of the benches, reading a letter. As Nick approached she looked up and gave a slight smile. He bowed.
‘You wished to talk to me, Miss Shawcross?’
She gestured towards the opposite bench and Nick sat down.
‘I did indeed, sir.’ Her soft brown eyes rested upon him. ‘You said at our very first meeting that you came here to marry me. Is that truly your intention?’
‘A direct attack,’ he said approvingly. ‘I like that.’
‘You have not answered my question, Captain.’
‘Then, yes. It is indeed my intention, Misss Shawcross.’
Her gaze did not falter. ‘Why?’
Nick’s brows rose. This was blunt indeed. ‘It is time I settled down. My family has been nagging me to do so ever since I came home from sea.’
‘But you know nothing about me.’
He smiled at her. ‘You are beautiful, witty, accomplished—and Sir Benjamin assures me you are an excellent housekeeper. Is that not enough?’
She dropped her gaze, a delicate flush mantling her cheek. ‘But you knew nothing about me when you sought out my grandfather at Tunbridge Wells.’
She raised her eyes again and Nick hesitated. How much should he tell her?
‘I did go to Tunbridge in search of Sir Benjamin,’ he admitted. ‘I planned merely to renew my family’s acquaintance with him. It soon became clear to me that Sir Benjamin was looking for a husband for you.’ A smile tugged at his lips. ‘He seemed to think I might be a suitable candidate.’
‘Do you mean that he suggested it?’ She looked shocked. ‘And you agreed to…to…’
He spread his hands, saying apologetically, ‘This seemed an opportunity not to be missed. I am glad now that I came.’
For a moment she looked delightfully flustered, but she soon recovered. ‘Very well, sir.’ She settled herself more comfortably on the bench and glanced at the papers in her hand. ‘Grandpapa may consider you suitable, but you have yet to convince me! I would like to ask you a few questions.’
Nick leaned back and crossed one booted leg over the other. ‘I am at your disposal, ma’am.’
‘We have already established that you are a sailor, and, one cannot deny it, a brave one.’
‘Thank you,’ he said meekly.
‘But you have something of a reputation in town, Captain.’ She stared down at the letter. ‘Last year your name was linked with a Mrs Stringham.’
He blinked. The chit had been checking up on him!
‘We were…friends for a few months, yes.’
‘I understand she is a lady with a somewhat tarnished reputation.’ She shrugged. ‘No doubt much more interesting for you than an ingénue.’
He choked, but she did not seem to notice and was again peering at her list.
‘Then there was Lady Alton.’
‘What of her?’ he asked warily.
‘She was your mistress, was she not? You look shocked, Captain Wylder. I thought you liked the direct attack.’
Nick sat up. By heaven, the wench was teasing him! ‘May I ask how you came by this information, Miss Shawcross?’
She held the letter to her breast. ‘You may ask, but I shall not divulge my sources.’
He leaned forward. ‘And what else do your…sources…say of me?’
She studied the sheets of paper again. ‘Well, there was Miss Brierley from Rochester, many people thought you might offer for her.’
‘What, because I took her driving in the park?’
‘Apparently so,’ she murmured, not raising her eyes from her letter. ‘And Dorothy Chate, the actress, not to mention the opera dancers—’
‘I would much rather we did not mention the opera dancers!’
She regarded him sternly. ‘Since quitting the navy, your life seems to have been one of dissipation, sir.’
He tried to look remorseful. ‘Alas, I am very much in need of a wife to keep me in order.’
‘I am not at all sure that anyone could keep you in order, Captain Wylder. Are you saying that if we were to marry you would give up your dissolute ways?’
‘I would try.’
He gave her a soulful look and noted with satisfaction the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. She was having difficulty keeping her countenance.
‘I am not at all sure that I believe you.’
‘I fear I am in need of an occupation.’
She turned the page. ‘My correspondent tells me that you have an occupation.’
Nick froze. Now how the devil did she know that?
‘Or you should have one; you should be managing your properties in the north, Captain Wylder, not wasting your time in idle pursuits.’
He breathed again. ‘I would not call looking for a wife an idle pursuit.’
‘Captain Wylder,’ she said seriously, ‘I am not at all sure I am the wife for you.’
‘Miss Shawcross, the more I know of you the more I am convinced that you are the perfect wife for me!’
‘But I am not at all worldly. What I mean is…’ She blushed again, looking so adorable that he wanted to cross the space between them and take her in his arms. ‘What would happen when you grew tired of me?’
When he did not respond she said quietly, ‘I am not quite as naïve as you might think, Captain. I know my parents’ marriage was unusual; they were so much in love they did everything together, as equals.’ She gave a sad little smile. ‘They even died together. I do not expect that, but…’
Nick half-rose from his seat, then sank back down again. He knew that any attempt to comfort her was more likely to frighten her away. ‘But what, Miss Shawcross?’
The colour flared in her cheeks, but she was determined on her course. Her words were almost inaudible. ‘I w-would not want to share you with a mistress.’
Nick took a deep breath. By heaven, he admired her bravery. Now he must honour it with an honest reply. ‘Miss Shawcross, whatever else you may have heard about me, pray believe that I am a gentleman. If we were to marry, I give you my word you would always be treated with respect, and I would do my best to make you happy. I can promise you that I have no mistress hidden away.’ He laughed suddenly. ‘Now what is that look, do you not believe me?’
She glared at him. ‘I do not think you understand, sir.’
‘Then perhaps you can explain.’
He sat back, as she threw him another scorching look. He felt more sure of his ground when she was angry with him.
‘I have always expected Grandpapa to arrange my marriage for me, but I thought it would be a local gentleman. Someone…’
‘Someone safe and staid and boring,’ he put in helpfully.
‘Well…yes.’
He spread his hands. ‘Even the most upright country gentlemen take mistresses, you know.’
‘But they are less likely to have women falling at their feet,’ she retorted. She brandished her letter. ‘My correspondent tells me the ladies in town find you fatally attractive.’
‘Does she indeed?’
‘How do you know it is a woman?’
‘I have an instinct for these things. Does your correspondent find me fatally attractive, too?’
‘Captain Wylder I do not think you are taking this seriously.’
‘But I am! And your grandfather has already spoken to me of this.’
‘He—he has?’
‘Yes.’ Her consternation made him smile. ‘It is a question that would occur to any loving guardian. I have already assured him that, if I take a wife, she will have nothing to fear on that score.’ He paused. ‘Sir Benjamin approves of me, you know. Will you not at least consider my suit?’
She held his eyes for a moment, then folded her papers and put them into her reticule. ‘Yes, Captain Wylder, I will consider it,’ she said quietly. ‘But it is not a decision to be taken lightly.’
‘No, of course not.’
‘Thank you for being so frank with me, Captain.’
As she rose he jumped up and reached for her hand, carrying her fingers to his lips.
‘I hope we understand one another now, Miss Shawcross.’
‘I am not sure.’ She regarded him with a tiny crease between her brows. ‘I still do not understand why you should want to marry me, but we will let that pass, for now.’ She withdrew her fingers and, with a slight, regal nod of her head, she turned and walked away from him.

Eve returned to her room, her mind going over and over her interview with Captain Wylder. He had not denied any of the liaisons Maria Gryfford had detailed in her letter, but he had looked wary. Were there even more lovers that she did not know of? Eve realised she did not care how many lovers he might have had in the past; only the present and the future concerned her. A line from Lady Gryfford’s letter flitted through her mind; If the dashing Captain Wyldfire has made you an offer, then snap him up immediately, my dearest Eve. We are all mad for him! But why should he want to marry her? He did not look like the sort of man who would marry merely to please his family. But then, she had been brought up to believe she would marry to please her grandfather. Were they so very different? She put her arms around herself. It was a big decision, to leave the safety of the only home she had ever known and put herself under the protection of Nick Wylder. After all, what did she know of him? Did she trust him?
‘Yes,’ she said aloud. ‘Yes, I do. Perhaps I should not, but I do.’
‘Your pardon, Miss Eve, did you say something?’
Martha came bustling into the room.
‘What? Oh, no, no. I was merely talking to myself. Is it time to dress for dinner already? I think I will wear my blue gown again tonight, Martha.’
‘Ah, you want to look your best for the captain, is that it?’
‘Do not be so impertinent!’
Eve frowned at her handmaiden, but Martha had been part of her household since Eve had been a baby and was not so easily snubbed.
‘Well, what else is one to think, when you and he have been in the garden together this afternoon?’
‘Who told you that?’
Martha shrugged. ‘Mr Granby mentioned it…’
‘How dare you gossip about me!’
‘Lord love you, Miss Eve, we wasn’t gossiping. Mr Granby just happened to mention it in passing. Heavens, miss, how you do take one up. And what does it matter anyway, since you are going to wed him—’
‘Martha! Who says so?’
The maid stared at her. ‘Well, is it not so?’
‘No. Yes—that is…’ She dropped down on the bed, crying, ‘Oh, Martha I do not know what to do!’
‘Don’t you want to marry the captain?’
Eve spread her hands. ‘I must marry someone.’
‘And the captain is very handsome, miss.’
Eve felt herself blushing. ‘Yes he is. Very handsome.’
And exciting, and witty: Eve had never felt so attracted to any man before. Not that she had much experience, one short visit to Tunbridge Wells being the nearest she had ever been to entering society, but she had read lots of books. She knew exactly what a hero should be like, and although the gentlemen she had met at Tunbridge had all fallen well short of her expectations, she was forced to admit that Nick Wylder was the embodiment of her secret dreams. The thought was a little frightening.
‘Well, if you’ll be guided by me, you will listen to Sir Benjamin and do as he bids you, miss,’ Martha advised her. ‘He has never let you down yet.’
‘I know, Martha, but this is…marriage.’ She whispered the word, suddenly nervous of it and the thoughts it conjured.
‘Lord love you, that is just the time to be advised by your grandpapa,’ said Martha cheerfully. ‘If Sir Benjamin thinks the captain is the right man for you, then so it is, and a sight better catch than your cousin Bernard,’ she added, suddenly serious. ‘And that’s who you’ll end up with if the master dies and leaves you alone. I’ve seen ’im sniffing round you when he’s been here on a visit.’
‘Stop it, Martha.’ Eve shuddered. ‘Besides, I have heard that my cousin is hanging out for a rich wife.’
‘Aye, well, maybe he is,’ opined Martha darkly. ‘But that won’t stop him trying to get you between the sheets, with or without a wedding ring!’
With this dire warning she went off to fetch Eve’s gown, leaving her mistress to stare after her.

By the time she went down to dinner Eve was no closer to making a decision, but she was too well-bred to let her inner turmoil show and she greeted Sir Benjamin and the captain with her usual calm smile. Despite her assured performance in the garden that afternoon she was a little nervous of meeting Nick again, but his polite, gentle friendliness soon put her at her ease. However, Sir Benjamin’s suggestion after dinner that the young people should take a stroll in the garden while it was still light threw her into a panic.
‘An excellent idea,’ murmured Nick, his eyes glinting, but not unkindly. ‘Come, Miss Shawcross, indulge me in a little walk.’ He leaned closer and murmured. ‘It need be nothing more, I promise you.’
Feeling the hot blood in her cheeks, she hurried away to fetch her wrap and returned to find only Nick waiting for her in the hall.
‘Sir Benjamin has retired,’ he informed her as she came down the stairs towards him. ‘He asked that you go up to see him when we come back in.’ He held out his arm to her. ‘Shall we walk? You need not worry,’ he added, seeing her hesitation. ‘We shall talk of the most unexceptional subjects, if you like.’
His understanding calmed her jangled nerves. She put her hand on his arm and allowed him to lead her out of the house.
At first they discussed the weather, then books and music, but when they had strolled past the parterre and into the shrubbery, Nick said suddenly, ‘I think, Miss Shawcross, that I owe you an apology.’ She glanced up at him and he continued, ‘It seems Sir Benjamin truly did not prepare you for my visit.’
She flushed. ‘This is not the unexceptional topic you promised me, Captain.’
‘I know, but you are very reserved with me tonight. You are trying to make up your mind whether or not to marry me, is that not so?’
‘Of course not!’ she exclaimed, startled. ‘It is…’ She trailed off. ‘To be truthful with you, yes,’ she admitted.
He stopped and turned to her, catching at her hands. ‘And what is so difficult about that decision, Miss Shawcross?’
He lifted her hand to his lips and began to kiss her fingers, one by one. She watched, transfixed.
‘I, um…’
He lifted her other hand and, when he had finished with her fingers, his lips moved on to her wrist, sending a fiery shock the length of her arm.
‘I cannot think,’ she confessed.
He raised his head and smiled at her. Eve’s fingers were still tingling and she found herself staring at his mouth, wondering at the havoc his lips could cause. The smile in his eyes deepened. He cupped her chin.
‘Sometimes it is best not to think,’ he murmured and gently brought his mouth down upon hers.
It was the lightest of kisses, a mere brushing of lips, but it sent Eve’s senses reeling and as Nick pulled away her face remained upturned, inviting him to kiss her again. He gazed down at her.
‘A young lady should not allow a gentleman to kiss her unless she means to marry him,’ he murmured.
‘Then perhaps you have made my decision for me,’ she replied.
He laughed, pulled her hand back on to his arm and they resumed their stroll.
‘I shall not coerce you into this, Miss Shawcross; it must be your decision.’
‘It is in truth my grandfather’s decision,’ she told him. ‘Or at least, his wish. But your assumption was correct, Captain. He did not mention you were coming.
I should not be surprised by it, however. He always said that one day he would bring home a husband for me.’ She sighed. ‘I never really believed him.’
‘Surely he has not kept you locked away here all these years?’ He sounded slightly shocked and she gave a little gurgle of laughter.
‘Like a princess in a fairy-tale? No, of course not. I have attended assemblies in Makerham village upon occasion. And I went to Tunbridge a few years ago.’
‘Then of course you know all you need to know about the world!’
‘I know enough to realise that I am very happy to remain here at Makerham. Everything I want is here.’
‘Is it? Do you never long to know what is going on outside these walls?’
‘There are the news sheets—’
‘That is not the same! There are towns and cities—whole countries waiting to be explored. Does that thought not fill you with excitement?’
The thought filled Evelina with dread. She stepped away from him to cup a particularly lovely rose between her fingers, breathing in its fragrance while she formulated her answer. Apart from one or two early memories of life with her parents and a few brief years at school, Makerham was the only world she had ever known. Outside was alien and full of danger, like the infection that had carried off her parents. Her life here at Makerham was safe, secure; the thought of her cousin taking possession was something she did not want to consider.
‘I am very happy here,’ she said again.
Nick strolled along beside Evelina, his hands clasped firmly behind his back to prevent them reaching out and pulling her into his arms. He had never known such a glorious summer’s evening; bees hummed around the plants and the scent of lavender filled the air. Then there was Evelina herself; she was beautiful, but there was an air of calm about her, serenity. It was like finding a safe harbour after stormy weeks at sea. When he had sought out Sir Benjamin at Tunbridge Wells he had already formulated his plans; if he needed to marry to obtain his ends, then he was prepared to do his duty, but never had he expected duty to be quite so pleasurable.
He stopped and gently turned her to face him. ‘I understand how much you love Makerham, but could you consider living elsewhere?’
‘I think I must, sir, since the house will pass to my cousin when Grandpapa dies.’
‘That is not quite what I meant. Sir Benjamin brought me here as a prospective husband for you. I am not sure what he has told you about me…’
‘Only that your father was an earl: that is looking pretty high for a baronet’s daughter.’ Her lilting smile jolted his senses. It took all his will-power not to drag her into his arms and cover her face with kisses, but he needed to talk to her.
‘Evelina—Eve, from our discussions this afternoon you know I have not led a blameless life, but I told you that will change when I take a wife. I have a comfortable income and two estates in the north. I can afford to give you a Season in town every year, should you wish it. You will have your own carriage and we could buy a property nearer Makerham, closer to your grandfather, if that is what you want.’
‘Captain Wylder, this is too soon!’
He put a finger against her lips. ‘Perhaps, but I do everything in a hurry, my dear; as soon as I saw you I knew that I wanted to wed you.’ He saw the confusion in her face and stopped. He drew away a little, took a breath and said gently, ‘You need not answer immediately. I merely want you to understand what I am offering you.’
There was a slight shadow in her eyes as she looked up at him. ‘That is all very well, Captain, but I do not understand what I can offer you.’
He hesitated, then said lightly, ‘I believe that you bring with you your mother’s property at Monkhurst.’
She laughed. ‘A rundown house on the edge of Romney Marsh! I love it, and spent some happy times there as a child, but no one has lived there since Mama and Papa died. It is a poor dowry, Captain Wylder. I fear I will get the best of this bargain, sir!’
His spirit soared. She was almost his, he could read it in her eyes. A dizzying happiness shook him. He ran his hands down her arms and caught her fingers.
‘No, Eve, I think I will have a great deal more than I bargained for!’
Eve stared at the dark head bent over her hands. This could not be happening to her; when she was at school she had read novels of handsome knights carrying off damsels in distress, but that was fantasy. Besides, she was not in distress. Or was she? She was twenty-four years old and she had never found anyone she would like to marry, nor was she likely to meet anyone while she lived in such seclusion. Her grandfather was much weaker than he had been even a few months ago. If he should die while she was still unmarried, then what would become of her? The vision of her cousin filled her mind. She had never liked Bernard, sensing in his nature a cruel streak that made her a little afraid of him. And now here was this handsome, dashing sea captain offering her his hand and he came with her grandfather’s blessing. There really was no choice.
Eve realised Nick was looking at her with a steady, unsettling gaze. She needed to say something. ‘How soon do you wish to be married, Captain Wylder?’
Goodness, how matter of fact she sounded.
‘By the end of the month.’
‘The end of the—!’
‘Why, yes, I see no reason to rush into this with a special licence. We have time for the banns to be read in church. We shall be married here, of course. I have no doubt that is what you would like—’
‘But I haven’t agreed to it yet!’
With a laugh he pulled her into his arms. ‘No, but you will.’
He was grinning down at her. Eve found it difficult to concentrate, her thoughts seemed to centre on the dimple in his left cheek.
‘Wh-what will Grandpapa say to such a hasty marriage?’
‘Oh I think he will agree.’ He kissed her, a sizzling, burning kiss that sent shockwaves tingling right down to her toes. ‘What say you, Eve, will you be my wife?’
‘But—’ She tried to collect her wayward thoughts. ‘We have only just met!’
‘And we have more than three weeks until the wedding to get to know one another.’ He kissed her again. ‘Well?’
She struggled out of his arms. ‘No, no. It is out of the question,’ she said crossly. ‘You appear out of nowhere, big and brash and—and totally overwhelming, and you expect me to agree to be your wife! No, sir, I will not do it!’
He dropped to his knees before her, throwing his arms wide. ‘Evelina, don’t you want to marry me?’
She clapped her hands over her mouth to stifle a giggle. ‘Get up, sir, before someone sees you!’
‘Not until you answer my question.’
Evelina stared at him. His blue eyes twinkled and that irrepressible dimple cut into his cheek. Heavens, was the man never serious?
‘Well, Evelina; will you give me your answer?’
A stillness settled over the garden. The birds were silent, not a breath of wind stirred the bushes; the whole world was hushed, waiting for her reply. Suddenly she knew that there was nothing she wanted more than to be married to Nick Wylder.
‘Very well,’ she said quietly. ‘I will marry you.’

Chapter Three (#u1d11a163-6c83-5851-a8df-71cae45a4513)
‘Oh heavens, what have I done?’
Evelina paced about her bedroom, her clasped hands pressed to her mouth. The arrival at Makerham of a prospective husband should not have come as a surprise, her grandfather had told her often that he would find her a suitor and she had told him that she would abide by his judgement. But she had not expected that gentleman to be so dazzlingly attractive as Captain Wylder, nor had she foreseen that he would propose to her upon such short acquaintance. Even more extraordinary was the fact that she had accepted him!
Eve paused by the window. The last remnants of daylight had disappeared and the glass reflected her image like a dark mirror. She had always considered herself a sensible, level-headed young woman, so what madness had possessed her, standing in the garden with the heady scent of summer roses in the air, to accept his proposal?
‘No, no, it will not do,’ she said aloud, resuming her perambulations. ‘Tomorrow I must tell him I have changed my mind—not changed my mind,’ she amended. ‘Merely that I want a little more time to think over his proposal.’
She climbed into bed and snuffed out her candle, satisfied that she had resolved upon a very sensible course of action.

‘Hell and damnation we’re in the suds now.’ Nick shrugged himself out of his coat and tossed it to his valet. ‘I had not planned this, Richard!’
‘I thought the whole point of coming here was to propose to the young lady,’ murmured Granby, folding the coat and laying it tenderly over a chair.
‘Yes, of course, but I behaved like a veritable mooncalf!’
‘But I understand Miss Shawcross has accepted your offer, Captain.’
‘Aye, she has.’ Nick slumped down into a chair and gave a heavy sigh.
‘Then I wish you happy, sir.’
‘Damn your impudence! This wasn’t meant to happen—or only as a last resort.’ A wry smile tugged at one side of his mouth. ‘The truth of it is she’s bowled me over, Dick. She floored me with the very first glance from those great brown eyes and I haven’t recovered since.’
‘Her maid tells me Miss Shawcross is a very accomplished young lady.’
‘Aye, so she is. The wonder is that she wasn’t snapped up years ago.’
‘Martha—that’s her maid, Captain—Martha says that she’s lived here very quietly since she finished her schooling. Sir Benjamin’s health being so poor they have never been in the habit of entertaining.’
Nick gave a short laugh. ‘So she’s been waiting here all these years, like a Sleeping Beauty! But the devil of it is I’m no Prince Charming.’
A ghost of a smile flitted across Richard Granby’s impassive features. ‘If you’ll pardon me, sir, I think there’s plenty of ladies would disagree with you there.’
Nick waved his hand impatiently. ‘What if she finds out why I am really here?’
‘Perhaps you should tell her.’
‘Damn it all, Richard, what would she think of me, marrying her to get control of her property? No, I’ll keep my own counsel. After all, another few weeks and this business will be finished, so there’s no reason for Miss Evelina Shawcross to know anything about it.’ Nick ran a hand through his hair. ‘But I do not like the idea of rushing her into this marriage. Mayhap we will merely go through the ceremony. After all, I shall need to get back to the coast almost as soon as the wedding is over. That way, if she finds she really cannot stomach me—’
‘If you’ll forgive me saying so, Captain, whenever your liaisons have finished it’s rarely been the lady’s choice to end it.’
‘Aye, but Miss Shawcross is different.’ He pushed himself out of the chair and stretched. ‘Look out my nightgown, if you please, Richard. It must be well after midnight by now and time I—’ He broke off, frowning. ‘Now what the devil is the matter?’
From the corridor outside his room came the sound of urgent whispers and hurrying footsteps. Nick strode over to the door and flung it open. Sir Benjamin’s valet was making his way along the passage and by the glow of the lamp he was holding aloft Nick observed that his coat was unbuttoned and his hair tousled, as if he had been roused untimely from his bed. Nick stepped out into his path.
‘Well, Rooney, what’s amiss?’ he demanded.
‘It’s the master sir. He’s had one of his turns.’
‘Can I be of help—can Granby ride for a doctor?’
‘Thank you, Captain, but no. I’ve already despatched a groom to fetch Dr Scott. If you will excuse me, sir, I must get back to Sir Benjamin. Miss Eve is with him, but I do not like to be away for too long.’
‘Of course.’ Nick stepped aside and, after watching the valet hurry out of sight, went back into his room.
‘Is it the old gentleman sir?’ asked Granby. ‘I heard he was very down pin.’
‘Yes, he is. Go along and see if there is anything we can do, Richard. Sir Benjamin’s man is reluctant to trouble me, but he may be more forthcoming to you.’
Having despatched his man, Nick found himself alone. Silence settled around him but it did nothing to relieve his anxiety. He was a guest in the house, but it was unthinkable that he would sleep while Eve was sitting up with her grandfather. He snatched up his coat. There must be something he could do.

When Eve left Sir Benjamin’s room her eyes were gritty with lack of sleep. She held aloft a bedroom candlestick to light her way through the dark passages and down the stairs. The arch leading to the great hall glowed with a welcoming light and as she moved forwards she could see that the fire had been built up and several candles burned brightly in the wall sconces. Nick Wylder was bending over the fire, stirring a large black pan that seemed to be balanced precariously amongst the flames. He straightened and turned as he heard her approaching footsteps.
‘I was told that you were here, Captain.’ She nodded towards the fireplace. ‘I doubt anyone has cooked upon that fire for generations.’
‘Punch,’ he said, smiling. ‘Nothing like it for restoring the spirits in the middle of the night.’
‘I am sorry if we woke you.’
‘No need, I was not asleep.’ He reached out for her hand and led her to the settle on one side of the hearth. ‘How is Sir Benjamin?’
‘Quieter now. Grandfather panics when an attack comes on and he cannot get his breath, but Dr Scott always calms him.’
She sat for a moment, staring into the flames.
‘I hope you do not mind, I built up the fire. It is summer, I know, but somehow a good blaze always seems more comforting at times like these.’
‘It does, thank you, but you should not have had to do that.’
He waved his hand dismissively.
‘Your servants are busy with their master. I would not add to their load.’ He turned back to the cooking pot and ladled some of its contents into a cup. ‘Here, try this.’
She curled her fingers around the warm cup. She had not realised how cold she had become. A sweet, pungent aroma rose from the liquid and her eyes widened.
‘Rum.’ Nick grinned. ‘Try it.’
Cautiously she took a sip. It was warm and sweet with a fiery bite that made her cough, but it was strangely comforting. Nick was watching her and she managed a small smile.
‘Thank you. That is just what I need. Perhaps we should offer some to Dr Scott before he leaves.’
‘Of course. Are these attacks a regular occurrence?’
‘They have been more frequent in recent months.’
‘I did not realise Sir Benjamin was so ill.’
‘He hides it well. He does not like people to fuss over him.’ She read the question in his eyes and her gaze dropped to the cup clutched between her hands. ‘The attacks weaken his heart. The doctor says we must be prepared…’ She did not trust her voice to continue so she sipped at the punch. When she looked up again Nick was watching her, such kind concern in his face that she found herself smiling at him. ‘Perhaps now you understand why Grandpapa is so eager to see me settled,’ she said, handing him back the empty cup. ‘He worries so about what is to become of me when he is gone.’
He sat down beside her on the settle. ‘Then at least I can relieve his mind on that account, and perhaps on another.’ He reached for her hands. ‘When we are married we need not remove to Yorkshire immediately. I think you would prefer to remain near your grandfather.’
His words allayed her barely acknowledged anxiety. She fixed her eyes on his face.
‘Truly, you would not mind if we lived here for a little while?’
‘Truly. I have an excellent steward who has managed my affairs for a good many years; he will cope for a little while longer.’
‘Thank you.’ Her relief and gratitude were palpable. Without thinking she leaned towards him and he enfolded her in his arms. It is, she thought, nestling her head contentedly against his shoulder, like coming home after a long and tiring journey.
Nick rested his cheek against her hair, breathing in the sweet, flowery fragrance. She felt so fragile, so delicate within his arms that he was afraid to hold her too tightly lest she should fracture. His heart ached. He wanted not only to possess this dainty creature but to protect her. It was an unfamiliar feeling, and not altogether comfortable.
They remained locked together in companionable silence for several minutes while the long case clock ticked steadily and logs crackled in the fireplace. He wondered if now was the time to talk to her, to take her into his confidence. He held his peace. It was government business, not his to share. She was so fragile that he did not want to add more worries to her slender shoulders. Besides, in a few more weeks it would all be settled.

Chapter Four (#ulink_f67a4516-8e90-58c5-bcd1-bfe4f8e01ed1)
‘Dearly beloved, we are gathered here…’
The little church at Makerham was packed. Evelina stood, eyes modestly lowered, and wondered how she had come to this. A month ago there had been no thought of marriage in her head, then Nick Wylder had ridden into her life and changed it for ever. A month ago she had not known of his existence; now she could not imagine life without him.
With the exception of a few days when he had been obliged to go to town on business, Nick had been her constant companion at Makerham Court. They rode through sun-dappled lanes, walked in the gardens and in the evenings they played cards with Sir Benjamin, or Eve would sit in the corner with her embroidery while the two men talked or played backgammon together. Nick’s energetic presence filled the house. Eve woke every morning with a little thrill of anticipation, knowing he would be waiting for her. They talked for hours, although she had little recollection of what they talked about. Occasionally they would argue, and it would end with Nick pulling her into his arms and kissing her. She had never known such happiness. It was especially gratifying to see her grandfather’s approval of her future husband and not even the business of the marriage contract upset this happy state of affairs; Sir Benjamin talked to Eve with smug satisfaction about jointures and settlements and Eve did not press him for details: it was enough for her that he was happy.
And now they were in Makerham church, standing side by side, exchanging marriage vows. A fairy-tale. Some might say it was too good to be true. Eve had to keep pinching herself to believe in her good fortune. Nick’s brother, the Earl of Darrington, came to act as his groomsman. Eve thought he looked rather disapproving, but his greeting was kindly enough and he even kissed her hand when she came out of the church on her husband’s arm. Her husband. A frisson of excitement trembled through her.
‘So, you are my sister now.’ The earl smiled, lightening his rather sombre expression and all at once looking much more like Nick. ‘Welcome to the family, my dear Evelina. I look forward to the day when I can welcome you to Wylderbeck Hall. It is a long way north, but Nick will tell you it is well worth the journey. I wish it was not necessary for me to leave immediately after the wedding breakfast, but so it is; if Nick had given us more notice of your nuptials we would have had time to become acquainted—’
‘And have you cut me out, brother?’ put in Nick. ‘I wanted to make sure of my lady first!’
The earl’s smile was a little strained.
‘Take care of her, Nick. And bring her north very soon, that she may meet the rest of the clan.’
‘I should like that, my lord.’ Eve cast a questioning look at Nick.
‘I will bring her to you as soon as I can, brother. Our plans are a little uncertain for the moment; we will be staying at Makerham for a few weeks yet.’
‘My grandfather’s health is not good,’ explained Eve. ‘The wedding has been a great effort for him, although he was determined it should be held here.’
Nick put his hand over hers. ‘I said I would not take you away from Makerham until he is better. You have my word on that.’
She nodded and leaned against him, drawing comfort from his presence at her side. They both knew there was little chance of her grandfather growing stronger. She did not wish to consider the more likely outcome, but it was there, unspoken, and Nick understood. The message was in his eyes now as he looked at her. They would not leave Makerham while Sir Benjamin had need of her.

‘I am only sorry that more of your family could not be present,’ she said later, when they were standing at the entrance to Makerham Court, ready to receive their guests at the wedding breakfast.
‘Do not be,’ laughed Nick. ‘They would have turned our little celebration into a riotous occasion! Darrington is the serious one, the rest of them are rakes and rabble-rousers, as you will see when I take you to Yorkshire to meet them!’
‘I am sure they are not as bad as you make out. Indeed, there are some from my own family that I would as lief not see here,’ she murmured, directing his attention to a tall, heavy-browed gentleman who was approaching them. She raised her head, saying more loudly, ‘Captain, may I introduce to you my cousin, Mr Bernard Shawcross?’
Mr Shawcross swept off his hat and made such a deep bow that his nose almost touched his knees.
‘We have met in town, Cousin. Let me tell you, Captain Wylder, that you have stolen the march on me, it was always my desire to wed my lovely Cousin Evelina.’
She gave him a honey-sweet smile. ‘A pity then that you did not apprise me of the fact, Cousin.’
‘Ah, but I did not wish to deprive Sir Benjamin of his most devoted companion,’ came the smooth reply.
‘Oh?’ she murmured, ‘from the number of times I have read your name in the society columns of the London newspapers I thought you were far too busy chasing heiresses to think of me. A pity that you have been unsuccessful thus far, Bernard.’ His mouth tightened in displeasure and her smile widened.
‘Mere gossip, Evelina,’ he replied shortly. ‘I am surprised you should take note of such tittle tattle.’
‘And have you come directly from town today, sir?’ asked Nick.
Bernard Shawcross shook his head. ‘I am currently staying with friends near the coast. I regret, Cousin, that I have engagements there I cannot break and will be returning to Sussex in the morning. I shall leave you my direction, in case you need me.’
‘Thank you, Bernard, but I can’t think that we shall ever need you,’ she murmured wickedly. ‘However, let us not quarrel; I bid you welcome, Cousin. We are delighted that you have graced our wedding with your presence.’
‘It was the very least I could do, Evelina, even though the event has taken place with—er—indecent haste.’
Her smile widened at his obvious annoyance.
‘We are merely following Grandpa’s wishes,’ she returned, coolly. ‘Have you spoken to him yet? No? Then perhaps you should do so now, while he is free.’ She added quietly, as he turned on his heel and stalked away, ‘It would do you no harm to play the dutiful heir once in a while.’
Nick drew his breath in with a hiss. ‘Remind me never to get on the wrong side of you, madam wife,’ he murmured.
‘At one time Bernard was forever calling at Makerham, asking Grandpapa to advance him loans against his inheritance. Thankfully he has not called at all for the past year, so I can only suppose that he has learned to live within his means.’
‘That, or he has found an additional source of income,’ observed Nick. ‘You will note that his coat is of the very finest cut: such tailoring only comes at a price.’
‘I do not care how he comes by his money as long as he stays away from Makerham.’ Eve shuddered. ‘I cannot like him, his manner towards me has always been…possessive, and I dislike the way he fawns over Grandpapa, as though his well-being is his only concern, yet when he leaves he never writes to enquire after Grandpapa’s health—but perhaps I refine too much upon it.’
‘You need not concern yourself with your cousin any longer, sweetheart. I will not let him trouble you.’ Nick squeezed her fingers. ‘Come, my dear, our guests have all arrived now, I think we may take our places at table.’
They feasted in the great hall, which had been decorated for the occasion with garlands of summer flowers. Even though she was the bride, Eve was also the hostess and it was her duty to announce the wines for the diners and to direct their attention to the cold meat dishes and salads available on the sideboard. She also had to watch the servants to make sure no guest was neglected. With so much to do it there was little time for reflection. It was not until the meal was ending that she allowed herself to think about the coming night.
Her wedding night.

‘That went off very well, I think,’ declared Sir Benjamin as the last of the carriages drove away. ‘I do wish, however, that we had invited at least some of our people to stay here.’
Eve came to stand beside his chair.
‘You know we would not have been able to accommodate more than a few of our guests—and we should have been obliged to offer Bernard a room; you know how much you would dislike that.’
‘You are very right, my love. They will be a deal more comfortable at the White Hart. Ah, and here is Rooney come to take me to my room. Goodnight, my dear, Captain Wylder. Such a tiring day, I shall sleep well, I think.’
As she watched her grandfather leave the room, leaning heavily upon his valet’s arm, Eve knew a moment of panic. For the first time that day she was alone with her husband. There had been no awkwardness on previous evenings; she had merely bade him goodnight and they had gone their separate ways, but tonight she knew that the oriel bedroom had been prepared for them. It was the principal bedchamber in the house and legend had it that Henry VIII had slept there. On Sir Benjamin’s instructions it had been cleaned and the huge tester bed furnished with new bed linen. Eve had a sudden, wild fancy to ask Nick if he would like to play a game of backgammon.
‘We should retire,’ he said gently. ‘Your maid will be waiting to put you to bed and Richard will be looking out for me also; we must not disappoint them.’ He took her hands and lifted them one after the other to his lips. Even that small gesture made her knees grow weak. ‘Off you go, my dear. Send word when you are ready for me.’

She found Martha bustling around the oriel bedroom. Her new linen nightgown was laid out on the bed. It looked pale and insignificant against the blood-red velvet of the bedhangings. Eve shivered.
‘Martha, I don’t know what to do,’ she whispered, desperately.
Her maid chuckled. ‘With the two of you smelling of April and May ever since Captain Wylder arrived? You will have no problems, Mistress. Leave it all to the captain. Now then, Miss Eve, let me help you out of your gown.’
Send word when you are ready, Nick had said. Perhaps she need not send for him at all. She thought wildly that she would lock the doors and spend the night alone, but she knew that would not do. In the event it was not her decision. Once Martha had put her into her nightgown and arranged her hair becomingly around her shoulders, she gathered up her clothes.
‘There. You look as pretty as a picture, mistress. I will send word to the captain that you await him. Shall I light the candles before I leave you?’
‘No.’ The summer night was drawing in, but it was not yet dark. ‘Leave them.’
Outside the open window Eve could hear a night bird singing. Her nerves were on edge and every sound seemed louder, sharper.
I’m not ready for this, she thought suddenly. Nick Wylder is a stranger. She wrapped her arms about her, closing her eyes to conjure his face in her mind. She pictured him smiling at her with that warm, understanding look in his eyes and her panic subsided. Nick was no stranger. In her heart she had always known him.
Nick stood in the doorway and regarded the little figure by the window. She had her back to him, and her head was bowed as if in prayer.
‘Eve?’ He spoke her name quietly.
She jumped and turned. The light from the window provided a gleaming halo for her hair as it flowed down over her shoulders. He could see every curve of her body through the gossamer-thin nightgown. The sight inflamed him, rousing the desire he had kept under control for the past four weeks. His breath caught in his throat. By heaven, how he wanted her! As he crossed the room he saw how nervous she was. He felt a desperate desire to tell her everything, but he dare not. Not yet. He must control himself, play for time. As long as they did not consummate the marriage then he could set her free, when it was all over and the danger was past. He would explain why it had been necessary to marry her in such haste and then, if she still wanted to be his wife, so be it, but it must be her choice. He owed her that much. He reached out and placed his hands gently on her shoulders. Her eyes, dark and luminous in her pale face, looked towards him for reassurance. His mouth was dry; suddenly he was anxious. What if he broke her heart?
‘Eve, we do not have to do this tonight…’
She put her fingers against his mouth. ‘I want to, Nick. I want to, very much,’ she murmured, then with her hands on his shoulders she reached up and kissed him.
Nick felt the touch of her lips and he was lost.
Evelina marvelled at her temerity, yet when she had seen the concern in Nick’s eyes her own doubts had fled and she had desperately wanted to comfort him. She felt his arms around her and her own crept about his neck. As Nick kissed her back with increasing urgency her lips parted and his tongue explored her mouth, flickering and teasing and stirring up the hot fire that burned deep in her belly. He was wearing a brightly patterned dressing robe, but through the heavy silk she could feel his body, hard against hers and she experienced a heady, exhilarating sensation of power even as he swept her up and carried her to the bed. She kept her eyes on his face, marking every line and shadow, the purposeful curve of his lips and the deepening colour of his eyes—they were almost black as they looked at her now and she trembled at the passion in their depths. He laid her on the covers and she reached up for him, wanting to kiss him again, but he resisted while he untied the belt of his robe. Eve’s eyes widened as he shed the heavy satin. She had expected him to be wearing a nightshirt and the sight of his naked body surprised her. Nervously she ran her tongue over her lips. Nick lowered himself gently on to the bed beside her, measuring his length against hers, propping himself upon one arm while he ran his free hand gently across her cheek.
‘You are so beautiful,’ he murmured. ‘More than I ever imagined.’
Eve swallowed hard. ‘So, too, are you,’ she managed to say with a shy, tremulous smile.
He bent his head, capturing her lips again while his hands moved over her, caressing her body through the thin nightdress. Eve’s own hands were exploring too, running over Nick’s arms, stroking his shoulders, tracing his spine. His body was smooth and firm beneath her fingers, the muscles rippling beneath the skin. His kisses deepened and her own desire mounted. She wanted to be closer to him; even the thin muslin of her nightgown between them was too much. She broke away and sat up, scrabbling to drag off the last scrap of fabric that separated her from Nick. After a heartbeat’s hesitation he helped her, his breathing as ragged as her own. As she raised her arms to drag the gown over her head she felt his hands capturing her nakedness. Collecting up her breasts, he buried his face in their softness. Gasping, she freed herself from the flimsy material and they fell together on to the covers in a tangle of limbs.
Nick’s lips moved back up her body, slid over her mouth, his kiss urgent and demanding while his hands on her skin caused her body to writhe out of her control. She threw back her head, shuddering with surprise and delight as his hand moved between her thighs, gently easing them apart. She arched beneath his questing fingers, moving against them, not knowing why, only aware of the ache in her groin and the pleasurable sensations he was arousing deep, deep within her. He kissed her neck; she felt his lips briefly on her collar-bone, then they fastened over one erect nipple and she gasped. The pleasure was so heady and intense that she thought she might faint. She was soaring, flying and falling all at the same time. Her hands gripped him, fingers digging into his shoulders as the first spasm shook her, then a second. She knew a moment’s panic as those pleasuring fingers eased away and Nick rolled over and entered her. She gave a little cry and he froze. Desperately Eve pushed against him.
‘No, no, do not stop,’ she gasped.
She heard him give a shaky laugh. ‘I don’t think I could, even if I wanted to.’
The blood was pounding in her ears, singing through her body as they moved together. The wave of pleasure had receded, but it was building within her again. She matched her movements to Nick’s, running her hands over his muscled back, keeping pace with him as the tempo increased, the heady wave building and building until at last, when she thought she might die of pleasure, it crested and broke. She heard a cry, but did not know if it came from her or Nick. He tensed and tensed again before they subsided together, shuddering and gasping for breath.

They lay side by side on the silken bedcovers, fingers entwined. The daylight had gone now, replaced by a fine silvery moonlight that cast a magical gleam over their naked bodies.
‘Nick?’ Eve raised herself upon one elbow and looked at him. Her heart lurched. Could this handsome man really be her husband? Was it possible that he could love her, that she could satisfy him? She gently brushed her hand across the scattering of crisp black hairs that grew on his chest. ‘Was—was that how it is meant to be? Was it, I mean, was I—?’
His hand came up to trap hers against his chest. He grinned at her. ‘You were magnificent, Eve. I am a very lucky man.’
She flushed with delight. He reached up, hooked his fingers around her neck and began to pull her down to him. ‘In fact,’ he whispered, ‘I think we should try that again, just to be sure…’

Chapter Five (#ulink_43713f1f-20cd-5be6-ae75-5ddccb3aafde)
Eve awoke the next morning to the sound of birdsong outside her window. As her sleepiness disappeared and memories of the previous night returned, a delicious feeling of well-being spread through her body. She reached out, expecting to feel Nick next to her, but she was alone in the bed. Eve opened her eyes.
Nick was standing by the window. With the early-morning sun behind him she could not see his face but she knew that he was watching her.
‘Nick?’
As he came towards the bed she noted that he was dressed for riding, already booted and spurred.
‘I did not want to wake you. You looked so peaceful.’
‘You are going out? Will you not wait for me and I will go with you—’
‘That is not possible,’ he murmured, sitting on the edge of the bed and taking her hand. ‘I have to go away for a few days. The messenger came this very morning from Hastings. Business, I am afraid, my love, that requires my urgent attention.’
Eve sat up. ‘Hastings! What business can be so important it takes you away so soon after the wedding?’ she demanded.
‘That I cannot tell you.’
‘Oh, but—’ He put a finger on her lips and shook his head at her.
‘Hush, my dear. You must trust me on this.’
He was still smiling at her, but there was something in his blue eyes that gave her pause, made her bite back the host of questions she wanted to ask him. He leaned forwards and kissed her, very gently. ‘Only the most urgent business could tear me away from you at this time,’ he said. ‘Can you believe that?’
She nodded, suddenly feeling sick with misery. This was nothing unusual, she told herself. Gentlemen did not discuss business affairs with their wives. She shivered, suddenly aware of her nakedness. Nick walked across the room to fetch her wrap of apricot silk. She slipped out of bed and scrambled into it, giving her attention to fastening the ties so that she did not have to look up. He reached out for her.
‘I am sorry, sweetheart.’
As he hugged her to him, Eve leaned her head against his chest, willing herself not to cry.
‘How soon will you be back?’
His arms tightened around her. ‘I do not know. A week, if all goes well. Longer, if not.’
‘And—you cannot tell me what is this business that takes you away from me?’ Eve knew he would not tell her, even as she asked the question. He put his fingers under her chin and tilted her head up. She looked up into his eyes, blinking to clear her own of the tears that threatened to spill over.
‘I must ask you to trust me, my love.’
‘I do,’ she said passionately.
He kissed her. ‘Then stay here, keep yourself safe for when I return.’
She shuddered suddenly and had a vague premonition of danger. ‘Promise me you will return!’
He laughed down at her, the light glinting in his blue eyes. ‘You adorable little goose, of course I shall return!’ He kissed her soundly and she leaned into him, returning his kisses and hoping he would sweep her up and carry her back to the bed for one final act of lovemaking before he left. Her disappointment as he gently put her aside was so strong it almost made her weep. ‘I must get on, my sweet.’
‘Can you not give me ten minutes to dress? I would like to come downstairs and take my leave of you.’ She noted his hesitation and added quietly, ‘Please, Nick.’
He relented. ‘Very well. Ten minutes.’
Nick watched her walk out of the room, her head held high. A wave of tenderness welled up in him. She did not understand why he must go yet there were no tears, no tantrums. He had asked her to trust him and she did. He put out his hand, opened his mouth to call out to her, but something held him back. The moment was lost; the door had closed behind her.
‘Just as well,’ he told himself. ‘The less she knows of this affair, the better.’

A little over ten minutes later, Eve accompanied Nick out of the house, trying not to cling too tightly to his arm.
‘Will you be able to write to me, sir?’ She tried to keep her voice light.
‘I shall try, but it may not be possible if I am very busy’ He lifted her hand to his lips. ‘Be strong for me, my love, until I return.’
Looking up into his laughing face, she remembered her first impression of him; an adventurer, a man who courted danger. Her fingers suddenly clenched on his hand. ‘You will be careful?’
He gave a merry laugh. ‘Sweetheart I am always careful!’ With a squeeze of her fingers he turned away and mounted nimbly upon his black horse.
‘Granby will be following me with the carriage in an hour or so.’ He grinned down at her, his eyes glinting. ‘I do not want to hear that you have gone into a decline, madam.’
She dragged up a smile. ‘I am not such a poor creature, sir. I shall keep myself busy until your return.’ His warm look turned her heart over.
‘Good girl. Come up, Admiral!’ He raised his whip in a salute as he turned and galloped away down the drive.
Eve watched from the little bridge until Nick was out of sight, then with a sigh she went back into the house. There was an aching void in her chest and she had a desperate desire to burst into tears. She glanced at the clock in the great hall; it was still very early. She had been married for less than twenty-four hours and already her husband had given her both more pleasure, and more pain, than she had ever known before.

When Eve joined Sir Benjamin in the morning room some time later, he held out his hand to her. ‘Rooney told me Nick has been called away, my love. That is a great pity. But it means I have you to myself again.’
She smiled as she grasped his outstretched fingers. ‘Indeed you do, Grandpapa.’
‘And are you happy with the husband I have found for you, my love?’
She smiled down at him. ‘Can you doubt it, sir?’
‘No, love. You have been glowing with happiness these past few weeks.’ Sir Benjamin sighed. ‘But we shall miss him. He is a very lively fellow, Nick Wylder—Wyldfire, they called him, when he was at sea.’ He chuckled. ‘He certainly sets the house alight with his energy! And he has entertained us royally, has he not, my dear?’
‘Yes, sir, and while he is gone we must entertain each other,’ said Eve bracingly. ‘It is a beautiful day, Grandpapa, will you not take a stroll with me through the garden? I should like you to see the flowerbeds; the roses are particularly fragrant just now. Rooney will give you his arm…’
‘I think not, my love. My legs do not feel so very strong today.’
‘Then let me bring the backgammon board into the morning room. I know Nick’s skill is superior to mine, but I can acquit myself creditably, I think.’
Sir Benjamin patted her hand. ‘Not just now, Evelina. I am very tired. I think I should like to rest here quietly in the sunshine for a little while.’
‘Of course, Grandpapa.’ She bent to kiss his cheek. ‘There is plenty for me to do. I fear I have neglected my household duties recently.’
Poor Grandpapa, she thought as she went out. He will miss Nick almost as much as I do.
Evelina kept herself busy. She threw herself back into the life of Makerham, for she was still its mistress, and would remain so until Nick came back and carried her away to run his own houses in the north. During the long, lonely nights in the big tester bed she stifled her longings with thoughts of her new life so far from the only home she had ever known. She would be sad to leave Grandpapa, of course, but the thought of moving away did not frighten her: with Nick at her side she knew she need not fear anything.
A week had gone by and there was no letter from Nick, only a hastily scribbled note, telling her that if she had need of him she could leave word at the Ship in Hastings. Eve was philosophical about this; her grandfather had been a very poor correspondent when she had been at school, sometimes a month would pass without a letter and then when it came it would be little more than a few lines dashed off in haste. She folded Nick’s note and placed it under her pillow; she would not worry. Besides, she had a much more pressing concern. Sir Benjamin’s health was failing rapidly. She sent for the doctor, and came hurrying downstairs to meet him as soon as he arrived.
‘Thank you for coming so promptly, Dr Scott.’
‘It is no trouble at all, Miss Eve—I mean, Mrs Wylder,’ responded the doctor, a twinkle in his kind eyes. ‘Now tell me, what is the matter with my patient? Is it his legs again?’
Eve nodded. ‘He is complaining of pains in his chest, too. Since the wedding he has not been out of the house,’ she said as she escorted him up to her grandfather’s room. ‘I thought at first he was a little tired from all the celebrations, but this past week he has kept to his bed. And he is eating so little.’
‘Well, take me to him, Mrs Wylder, and I’ll see what I can do.’

Eve was busy arranging a bowl of roses in the great hall when the doctor came in search of her.
‘I thought I would take these up to Grandpapa,’ she said, as he descended the stairs. ‘He is so fond of flowers and the perfume from these is delightful.’ Her smile faltered as she looked at him. ‘It is not good news, I fear, Dr Scott.’
‘You must remember he is an old man,’ said the doctor gently. ‘And a very sick one.’
‘I do,’ she murmured. ‘I am very grateful that he has been with me for so long…’
‘I have often thought that he was determined to keep going for your sake. Now that you are married—’
‘Oh, pray do not say that!’ cried Eve, distressed.
‘No, well, perhaps not.’ Dr Scott patted her shoulder. ‘Go to him, my dear. Take him your flowers. I will call again tomorrow.’

‘Grandpapa, I have brought you some roses. Since you cannot go to the garden, the garden must come to you. I shall put them here, near the window where you can see them. There, are they not beautiful?’
Sir Benjamin smiled a little. He was propped up on a bank of plump pillows, but his eyes were shut. He looked gaunt and grey and very frail in his nightcap and gown.
Eve went over to the bed and took his hand. ‘Will you not look at the roses, Grandfather?’
His eyes opened a fraction. ‘Very pretty,’ he murmured. ‘You must excuse me, my love. I cannot seem to get my breath.’
‘Then do not waste it on words,’ she whispered. ‘I shall sit here beside you: we need not talk.’

By the time Dr Scott returned the next morning it was all over. Evelina met him with a black shawl wrapped around her shoulders. Her eyes, she knew, were red and swollen from crying, but she made no excuses.
‘Oh, my dear.’ He took her hands.
Evelina lifted her head a little higher. ‘It was very peaceful,’ she said. ‘Rooney and I were with him.’
‘I’m glad, the two people who loved him most in the world. He would like that. But what will you do now? You should not be here alone.’
‘Why not? I am accustomed to that.’
‘But not in these circumstances. There are arrangements to be made,’ said Dr Scott. ‘The funeral, for instance…’
‘I shall instruct Grandpapa’s lawyers today; they will know what is to be done. And I shall write to my husband.’ A new burst of sadness clogged her throat making it difficult to speak. She missed Nick so badly. ‘He is away for the moment.’
‘Then I wish him God speed to return to you, Mrs Wylder.’
Evelina wished it, too, but she could not allow Nick’s continued absence to fill her thoughts, there was too much to do. Letters had to be written, lawyers consulted and funeral arrangements to be put in place. Evelina left the running of Makerham to Mrs Harding while she busied herself with the rituals of bereavement. She sent off her note express to Hastings and wondered how soon she could expect a reply.

Two days later she was in one of the attic rooms, searching through trunks of her mother’s clothes for anything that might be altered and used as a mourning gown when from the open window she heard the sounds of a carriage on the drive. Her heart began to thud painfully at the thought that Nick had returned. She hurtled down the stairs, arriving in the great hall just as the door opened.
‘Oh I knew you would come! I—’
She broke off, fighting back a wave of anger and disappointment when she saw Bernard Shawcross stepping through the doorway.
‘I am delighted to think I have not disappointed you, Cousin,’ he said smoothly. As he straightened from his bow he put his hand to his neck. ‘You see, I have adopted a black cravat. Thought it fitting.’
‘Y-yes, thank you,’ she stammered. ‘You received my letter.’
He inclined his head. ‘I came immediately. I thought you would need me. This is a very distressing time for you. You have my deepest sympathy, dear Cousin. Such a shock for you.’
‘Shock? No…no. Grandpapa’s health has been of concern for some time. That is why we did not remove to my husband’s home in the north country. But you must think me very rag-mannered. Pray sit down, Bernard; you must be wondering why Captain Wylder is not here to greet you. He is away, you see. On business.’
‘Ah.’ His close-set eyes under their heavy brows were fixed upon her. ‘So you have not heard from him?’
‘N-no, not yet. It is my hope that he is even now on his way to Makerham.’
Bernard’s mouth stretched into a smile. ‘Let us hope so, indeed. But in the meantime I am here to support you. If you would ask Mrs Harding to prepare a room for me…’ He waved one hand. ‘I know, by rights it should be the master’s room, but perhaps it is a little soon.’
She knew a little spurt of anger at his presumption. ‘Far too soon,’ she retorted. ‘Grandfather’s bedchamber is still as he left it—’ She broke off, gathered herself and said more calmly, ‘One of the guest rooms shall be prepared for you.’
Eve was glad of the excuse to leave her cousin and she hurried away to consult the housekeeper. Mrs Harding’s reaction to his arrival was typically forthright.
‘So he’s turned up, has he? Like a bad penny, that one.’
‘He is the master here now, Mrs Harding,’ Eve reminded her gently. She ignored the housekeeper’s scornful look. ‘I must clear Grandpapa’s room for him, but not yet.’
‘No of course not yet, Miss Eve! Why, the master ain’t even in his grave. We’ll strip the room out completely after the funeral, miss, and we’ll do it together. It’s not a job for a young lady to take on alone.’
‘And…’ Eve bit her lip ‘…and will you join us for dinner, Mrs Harding?’ She could not explain her uneasiness, but the older woman nodded immediately.
‘Of course, miss, and I’ll be in the drawing room of an evening, too. You shouldn’t be left alone with that man.’
‘Oh, I am sure there is nothing…’
‘You cannot be sure of anything with that one,’ retorted Mrs Harding grimly. ‘He’s trouble, you mark my words. I just wish the captain was here, he would know how to look after you.’
Eve forced a smile. How easily the staff had taken to Nick.
‘Perhaps we shall have news of him tomorrow.’

Chapter Six (#ulink_654a71c3-c428-52ae-8485-0d194449d223)
It was not until the day of Sir Benjamin’s funeral that they received word of Nick and when it came, the news was shattering. Evelina was in the morning room with her cousin, waiting for the carriage to take them to Makerham church when Green announced that Captain Wylder’s valet had arrived and wished to speak to her.
‘At last!’ She gave a brief look of apology to her cousin as she hurried away to the great hall where Richard Granby was waiting for her.
‘Well,’ she greeted him, ‘what news have you from your master?’ She heard footsteps on the stairs behind her and knew a moment’s irritation that her cousin should follow her, but it was forgotten as she observed the grave look upon Granby’s face. ‘What is it?’ she said sharply. ‘Tell me.’
‘There has been an…accident, ma’am.’
Evelina stared at him. Bernard put his arm about her and guided her to a chair.
‘You had best sit down, Cousin,’ he murmured.
She kept her eyes fixed upon the valet. ‘An accident? Is he badly hurt?’
Granby shifted uncomfortably and Eve put her hands to her cheeks as a shocking idea forced its way into her head.
‘Not—?’
Bernard’s hand clenched on her shoulder. ‘Is he dead?’ he said harshly. ‘Out with it, man.’
‘Yes, sir.’
Eve could only stare at him. The world was shifting, unbalanced. She was having difficulty thinking. She heard Bernard asking what had happened and tried to concentrate upon Granby’s answer.
‘Drowned. Fell overboard from the yacht. On Saturday last.’
‘Perhaps he survived,’ suggested Bernard. ‘Might there not be some hope?’
Granby shook his head. ‘No sir. They were somewhere beyond the Rocks of Nore, too far out for an injured man to swim. But we did check the beaches…’
‘Yacht?’ Eve frowned. ‘But he went to Hastings on business. What was he doing on a yacht?’
Granby looked even more uncomfortable.
Bernard patted Eve’s shoulder. ‘There will be time for such questions later, my dear. For now I think you should lie down.’ His calm assumption of authority put new spirit into Eve.
Impatiently she shook off his hand. ‘I have no intention of lying down. I am not ill, Cousin, and I shall not fall into hysterics because my husband is—’ She could not bring herself to say the word. She knew her composure could shatter at any moment and she would not let that happen. She must stay strong. Eve took a deep, steadying breath. ‘You must have ridden half the night to reach here so early, Mr Granby. Thank you for that. I suggest you rest now.’
‘Yes, ma’am. I am very sorry, Mrs Wylder.’
‘Mrs Wylder,’ she murmured. ‘No one calls me that here.’ She looked up. ‘One more thing, Mr Granby. My husband’s body…?’
The valet hesitated. He avoided her eyes as he murmured, ‘Lost, ma’am.’
‘It might still be recovered,’ put in Bernard.
‘The news was spread along the coast.’ Granby nodded. ‘They have promised to send word if he is…found.’
‘They?’ said Bernard. ‘Who would that be?’
‘The master’s business acquaintances.’
In spite of the numbness that had settled over her, Eve almost smiled. The valet’s haughty tone and the look that accompanied his words said very clearly that Nick Wylder’s business was his own affair, certainly not to be shared with Bernard Shawcross. She rose.
‘We will talk later, Mr Granby.’ She turned to her cousin, ‘Perhaps you would escort me to the carriage, Bernard.’
‘My dear cousin, it is not necessary—indeed, it is not usual—for females to attend a funeral.’ Eve stared at him and he continued gently, ‘I have no doubt you would prefer to go to your room. Shall I send your maid to you?’
‘No, Cousin. I will go to the church. I need to be active.’
‘But surely—’
She put up a hand. Her voice, when she spoke, was barely under control. ‘I wish, Cousin, you would stop trying to order my life. I shall go on much better if I am allowed to keep busy. Please let me have my way in this.’
‘My dear Evelina, I am head of the family now—’
Granby coughed. ‘Beggin’ your pardon, sir, but Mrs Wylder is part of Lord Darrington’s family now.’
Eve felt a flicker of gratitude for Richard Granby. Bernard scowled, but as he opened his mouth to retort she forestalled him.
‘Yes, thank you, Mr Granby. That is all for now. You may go.’ She reached up to her bonnet and pulled the veil down over her face. ‘Cousin, our carriage is at the door.’

Sir Benjamin had been an important figure in Makerham and the little village church was packed with those wishing to pay their last respects. The sight of Evelina in her flowing black robes and leaning heavily on her cousin’s arm caused more than one stolid parishioner to blink away a tear. When the coffin was carried out of the church and Miss Shawcross fainted clean away, there were many that said it was a blessing she should be spared the sight of her beloved grandfather’s body being consigned to the earth.
Martha accompanied her mistress back to the house and half-carried her up to her room, but it was not until her maid had tucked her up in her bed and departed that Eve allowed her pent-up grief to spill over. Tears burned her eyes and huge, gasping sobs racked her body as she mourned for the loss of her grandfather and her husband. She curled herself into a ball and sank her teeth into her fist to prevent herself screaming with rage and grief and pain. Sir Benjamin’s death had long been anticipated, but Nick’s loss was unbearable; she was not prepared for the agony and in some strange way she felt betrayed. He had ridden into her life and she had tumbled headlong into love with him. She had trusted him with her heart and now he was gone, as quickly as he had come. She dragged the covers over her head and allowed the tears to fall, crying for her grandfather, for Nick, for herself. Finally, as exhaustion set in, she buried her face in her damp pillow, praying that the expensive feather-and-down filling would deprive her lungs of air and suffocate her.

When Eve awoke to the grey dawn, her first conscious thought was disappointment. Disappointment that she was still alive. The silence in the house told her it was very early. She threw back the covers and crawled out of bed; there was a heaviness to her limbs that made every movement a struggle. She dragged herself over to the window and looked out. The garden was grey and colourless in the half-light. Very fitting, she thought. A house in mourning. She crossed her arms over her chest and tried to make sense of her grief. She had been prepared to lose her grandfather; they had said their goodbyes and she was comforted by the thought that he was no longer suffering from pain or ill-health. She was saddened by his death, but not bereft. But Nick—Nick with his dazzling smile and laughing blue eyes. He had ridden into her sheltered world and given her a glimpse of a much more exciting one. She had known him for such a short time, but now she missed him so much it was a physical pain inside her.
She gazed out at the horizon, where a watery sun was climbing through the clouds. Soon the house would be awake and Martha would come in with her hot chocolate. Life would go on and she was expected to do her duty. With a sigh she turned away from the window. The day stretched interminably before her. She had no idea how she would bear this misery.
Her fairy-tale had turned to a nightmare.

‘Ah, Cousin, here you are.’
Evelina schooled her features as Bernard Shawcross came into the morning room. To smile at him was impossible, but she must not glower.
‘So I have found you alone at last.’ He laughed gently. ‘I was beginning to think you were avoiding me.’
And with good reason, thought Eve. Aloud, she said, ‘I have been very busy. Since the funeral there have been so many visitors wishing to offer their condolences, then there are all the legal matters to attend to as well as the household duties to be done…’
‘At least with that I may assist you,’ he said, sitting down near her. ‘After all, Makerham is my home now, so I can remove that worry from your pretty shoulders.’
She repressed a shudder. ‘Makerham was never a worry, Cousin,’ she replied coolly.
‘Green tells me that you have been closeted with your lawyer this morning. Is there any news of your husband?’
She shook her head. ‘Mr Didcot urges caution. Without a—’ she swallowed hard ‘—without a b-body he is loathe to pronounce me a widow. Both he and Granby advise me to go to Yorkshire and place myself under the protection of my husband’s family.’
‘Yorkshire is a wild, uncivilised country, Cousin. You would not like it.’
She raised her brows. ‘You cannot call York and Harrogate uncivilised. Really, Bernard, you are quite Gothic at times.’
‘Perhaps, but you have always lived in the south, always at Makerham. We are the last of the Shawcross family, Cousin. It is only right that I should want to take care of you.’
He reached out as he spoke and put his hand on her knee. Eve froze.
‘Please, Cousin. I am a married woman.’
‘You are a widow, my dear.’
‘You are very certain of that.’
‘I would not have you keep false hopes alive.’ The hand on her knee tightened. ‘And now that you have experienced a man’s touch—’
She jumped up. ‘Pray stop. It is far too soon for such a conversation, Bernard! Please, excuse me!’
She turned away but his hand shot out and caught her arm.
‘Think, Evelina. What do you know of Wylder’s family? You must not go north. You would be far from everything you have ever known, ever loved. Consider what I can offer you.’ He was standing behind her now, his breath hot on her neck. ‘He was a hellraiser, that husband of yours. Did you know that? Did you think you could reform him? Impossible, madam: you cannot tame a tiger, only cage him. If he was truly changed, how could he leave you so soon after your marriage?’
She shook her head. ‘No,’ she protested. ‘I shall not listen to you!’
‘But you must! He tricked you, Eve. He never really loved you. Had he done so, he could not have left you. How could any man leave you?’ He pulled her back against him and murmured in her ear, ‘You love Makerham, and you need never leave it. You can stay here, run it as you have always done. We will marry, of course, as soon as that is possible, but until then, we can be…discreet.’
Eve fought down her growing panic. His grip on her arms was like iron, biting into her flesh. She knew she could not free herself by force. She must stay calm if she was to escape. She said in a low voice, ‘Please, Cousin. This is all so, so unexpected. My thoughts are in turmoil.’
‘Of course. I should not have spoken yet.’ She felt his lips on the back of her neck. ‘Off you go, my dear. We will talk more of this later.’
Eve forced herself to walk slowly out of the room, her back rigid with fear, as though there were some wild animal behind her, ready to pounce. As soon as she reached the hall she picked up her skirts and fled to her room, trying to blot out the memory of Bernard’s mouth upon her skin.

Eve changed her gown and at the dinner hour she made her way down to the drawing room with some trepidation. She was relieved to find only the housekeeper awaiting her. ‘Mrs Harding, I must get away from Makerham.’
‘Away from the new master, you mean.’
The blunt statement made Eve smile.
‘His intentions ar
e—ultimately—honourable.’
Mrs Harding gave a scornful laugh. ‘Aye. He’ll have to marry you if he is to get Monkhurst.’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘I heard him talking to Lawyer Didcot when he came to read the will.’ The housekeeper flushed slightly. ‘I needed to pick some rosemary from the bush outside the study window, so I couldn’t help but overhear, mistress. He questioned Mr Didcot very closely, he did, about who would get Monkhurst now you was married. Mr Didcot said of course he wasn’t at liberty to discuss the marriage settlement, but he could tell him that Monkhurst was secured on you and your heirs. Unless you died without issue,’ she continued, her brow furrowed in concentration. ‘Then of course it would go directly to your husband. It seems Bernard was hoping it might revert to the family, but as Lawyer Didcot explained to him, it belonged to your mama’s family, the Winghams, and was never part of the entail.’
‘But why should he want Monkhurst? The house has been shut up for years, since Mama died, in fact.’
Mrs Harding spread her hands. ‘Mayhap ’tis greed, Miss Eve. He wants everything.’
‘Well he shall not have it,’ declared Eve. ‘Any more than he shall have me!’
Mrs Harding put up her hand. ‘Hush now, dearie, I hear his step in the hall. And you need not look so anxious, I am not about to leave you alone with that man.’
The housekeeper was as good as her word, and after an uncomfortable dinner Eve made her excuses to retire to her room. There she was careful to make sure her door was locked securely. She crept into her bed and lay rigidly beneath the covers.
It was little more than a week since she had tried to cheat sleep and stay awake each night to think about Nick Wylder, to go over their conversations, relive their moments together. Since the news of Nick’s death, when her whole being ached for the oblivion of sleep, it would not come. But at least now, following Bernard’s sudden declaration, she could spend the long, sleepless night making her plans.

Early the next day she summoned Granby to the morning room, and when he came in she began without preamble. ‘Granby, I am leaving Makerham.’
‘Ah. We go to Yorkshire, ma’am?’
‘No. I plan to go to Monkhurst.’
‘Monkhurst! But, that’s impossible!’
‘It is very possible,’ she replied crisply. ‘The marriage settlement is quite clear; Monkhurst remains my own.’
‘But surely it would be better for you to be under the protection of the master’s family.’
‘No, why should it? My grandfather provided for me very well in his will, and Mr Didcot assures me that it will not be affected by my—my widowhood. I am dependent upon no one, Mr Granby.’
‘Of course, ma’am. But—’
‘My mind is made up.’
The valet stared at her, his usually impassive countenance betraying his consternation. ‘I pray you, mistress, reconsider. You said yourself Monkhurst has not been lived in for the past ten years! It—it could be derelict. Allow me to escort you to Yorkshire. You will be made very welcome, and—’
‘Now why should you be so horrified at the thought of Monkhurst?’ she asked him. ‘It is my own property, after all. I lived there with Mama and Papa for the first few years of my life. And as for being derelict, no such thing! I was used to help Grandpapa with the accounts and I know he is still paying the housekeeper and her husband to look after the house. I shall feel more comfortable amongst my own people, under the present circumstances.’
‘Of course, ma’am, but surely—’
‘Yes?’ There was a touch of impatience in her voice now.
The valet bowed his head. ‘I am sorry, madam, if you think I speak out of turn, but the master would want you to go to his family.’
‘But the master is not here.’ She was not able to keep the tremor from her voice.
‘No, ma’am, but—’
‘Enough, Mr Granby. My mind is made up. Since you returned from Hastings in the travelling carriage I should like to use it to go to Monkhurst. You may use the baggage wagon to take Captain Wylder’s trunks on to Yorkshire. I shall ensure you have sufficient funds for the journey.’
‘No, ma’am.’
‘I beg your pardon?’
Granby tilted up his head, his chin jutting obstinately. ‘I cannot leave you, Mrs Wylder. The master would never forgive me. I mean,’ he added hastily, ‘if you are going to Monkhurst, then I should like to come with you, mistress. I could be useful to you. As a courier, perhaps, or a steward at Monkhurst.’
‘A steward! Do you know anything about such matters?’
‘I sailed with the captain for years, madam, and only became his valet when he left the sea. I know a great deal more than how to dress a gentleman, and I cannot like the idea of you and Martha travelling so far without a man.’
Eve regarded his solid figure. ‘I confess it would be a comfort to have a manservant with me.’
A look of relief flashed in his eyes. He bowed. ‘Then it is settled. Mrs Wylder. I shall go and pack.’
‘Hurry, then, for I wish to be away from here by noon.’

It was not to be expected that Bernard would take Eve’s decision calmly, but in the presence of Mrs Harding and the servants he could not argue too strongly and Eve was careful not to give him the opportunity to speak to her alone. By noon the carriage was packed and ready to depart.
‘I fear you will find the house in a dreadful state,’ Bernard warned her as he helped her into the carriage.
‘Perhaps, but I sent a messenger off at dawn to advise the staff there of my arrival.’
‘The devil you did! You planned this and never a word to me!’
‘Come, Bernard, do not scowl so. Let us part as friends.’
After a slight hesitation he took her hand and bowed over it. ‘Very well. But I cannot like it.’ He kissed her fingers. ‘Remember, Evelina, you will always be welcome here at Makerham.’
It was shortly after noon when Eve left Makerham. She dare not look back at the house that had been her home for so many years, nor at the churchyard where Sir Benjamin’s remains now rested. Instead she kept her gaze fixed upon Granby, who was riding alongside the carriage. It reminded her of her first sight of Nick Wylder, when he came cantering towards her on his magnificent black horse. The memory brought a lump to her throat. She could not yet believe that she would never see Nick again. Eve wondered what had become of Admiral. She must ask Mr Granby. If the animal was still at Hastings then he must be fetched, even if he had to be sold. Yes, he most definitely would have to be sold, she thought, trying to be practical. But not yet. Not until she was settled in her new life.

The day dragged on. Even the thought of seeing Monkhurst again, a house Eve had not visited for a decade, did not have the power to excite her. Her grandfather’s loss had not been unexpected and although she grieved for him she was not overcome. It was Nick who filled her thoughts. Nick with his devastating smile and that twinkle in his blue eyes, his energy and enthusiasm for life. She remembered the night they had shared, a single night that had transformed her from a girl into a woman. Nick had made her feel alive, he had aroused emotions in her such as she had never known—and now would never know again. Eve closed her eyes and turned her head towards the window so that Martha should not see her tears.

Their progress had been slow through the lanes around Makerham, but once they reached Guildford the roads improved and they made good time. Eve had given instructions that they were to press on as quickly as possible, but even though their stops to change horses were brief, and Eve had alighted only once at Tenterden to partake a hurried dinner, it was nearly ten o’clock when they arrived at their destination. As the carriage pulled up at the closed gates Eve let down the window.
‘I can smell the sea on the breeze,’ she murmured. ‘I had forgotten how the winds carry the salt air inland.’
‘There’s no lights in the house,’ muttered Martha, peering out of the window towards the shadowy building, outlined against the darkening sky. ‘We’re locked out.’
‘Nonsense,’ Eve replied. ‘There is a light in the window of the Gate House. Mr Granby is even now knocking on the door.’
A few minutes later the valet approached the carriage followed by a large, ambling figure. ‘This is Silas Brattee, Mrs Wylder, the gatekeeper. He says your message never arrived.’
‘But I sent it express!’
Granby shrugged. ‘I will follow that up tomorrow, madam.’
Eve waved him aside and peered at the figure behind him. ‘You are Aggie’s husband, are you not?’ she said. ‘You will not know me, for you were at sea when I lived here as a child.’
‘Aye, I was, mistress. Went off to sea about the time that you was born, I’m thinking. The mistress was dead by the time I came home for good, but Sir Benjamin kept me an’ Aggie on here to look after the place.’ Silas was shifting from foot to foot as he spoke to her. ‘If we’d known you was comin’ ma’am, we’d’ve spruced up the house. As it is, the place ain’t fit…’
‘Well, it will have to do,’ replied Eve. ‘Unlock the gates, please.’
‘Mebbe the Bell would suit, or the Woolpack,’ suggested Silas hopefully.
‘That is only a mile or so back,’ added Granby. ‘They will have rooms for the night.’
‘Nonsense. I took the precaution of bringing my own linen. It will not take a moment to prepare beds for us.’
‘Nay, mistress,’ said Silas. ‘You’d be much more comfortable in the village, miss, believe me.’
Eve peered through the darkness at him. ‘I am beginning to wonder if you received my message, but decided to ignore it,’ she declared. ‘Let me in now, Mr Brattee.’
‘The house has not been lived in,’ Granby warned her. ‘It may well be damp.’
‘I do not care if the roof is falling in,’ retorted Eve. ‘I will stay in my own house tonight.’
Her fierce glare had its effect. Granby nodded and muttered to Silas to unlock the gates.
‘Well,’ sighed Eve as they clattered onto the grasscovered drive and drove up to the front door. ‘This is a poor beginning.’
‘Mrs Brattee is going to bring coffee and some food up to the house later,’ said Granby as he helped Eve to alight. ‘However, I fear you will not be very comfortable.’
‘I am so exhausted now I think that as long as I can lie down I shall be happy,’ she said, following him into the dark entrance hall. She stood for a few moments, pulling off her gloves while the valet moved around the walls, lighting candles. As the feeble glow strengthened, the outline of the large panelled hall could be seen. It was furnished with a large table that filled the centre of the room and a number of solid chairs and heavy dark chests pushed against the walls.
Martha gave a gusty sigh. ‘Ooh, miss, this reminds me of the last time we was here, when your sainted mother was alive. I was nobbut a girl then, o’ course, like yourself. My first post away from home, but I remember your mama saying how glad she always was to come back here after her travels.’
‘I am sure she never had to come to an unprepared house!’ retorted Eve with asperity.
‘No, miss, but she wouldn’t have worried about it. A very spirited lady was your mother and one who loved adventure, God rest her soul.’
‘Well, I want nothing more than a quiet life!’ Eve sighed. ‘Let us see what we can do, Martha. Fetch a candlestick and we will go upstairs. I had best take the main bedroom; if my memory serves, there is a maid’s room adjoining. Ask Dan Coachman to bring up the trunks and we will search out the sheets.’
‘You are never going to be making up beds, miss!’ Martha was shocked. ‘Rich—I mean, Mr Granby can help me with that.’
‘Well, if you think I am going to sit alone down here like a great lady while you are labouring away you are very much mistaken,’ replied Eve, amused. ‘I am just as capable as you of putting sheets on a bed—well, almost—and we shall have it done in a trice. Mr Granby would be better employed in the kitchen, helping Mrs Brattee to prepare our supper!’

Eve was thankful that the main bedchamber was still furnished and once they had removed the dust sheets she declared herself very well satisfied. She gave a cry of delight when she found her mother’s portrait propped against the elegant little writing desk and immediately charged Martha to assist her in hanging it on the empty hook above the fireplace.
‘There,’ she said, bringing the candles closer. ‘Now I feel much more at home.’
‘She was a beauty, Miss Eve, and no mistake,’ remarked Martha. ‘And you have the look of her, too.’
‘Do I?’ Eve gazed up at the painting. She saw an elegant woman in a gold sack-backed gown standing very erect with one hand resting on a large atlas. Eve recognised some similarities, the thick, luxuriant dark hair, straight little nose and smiling mouth, but there was a confidence about her mother that she had never felt in herself: those dark eyes seemed to look out upon the world with such self-assurance.
‘This was painted just before her marriage,’ she murmured. ‘Even then she yearned to travel the world, whereas I—I have always been content to live quietly at home. What a disappointment I would be to her.’ She stared at the portrait for a few moments longer, then gave her head a little shake, as if to throw off some unwelcome thought. ‘Well, such musings will do no good! Open those trunks and find our sheets, Martha, we must prepare for bed.’
There were no hangings on the tester bed, but the mattress was in place beneath its protective cover and it did not feel damp. Martha grumbled as she pulled the sheets from the trunk, but Eve was glad to be active, it helped her forget her unhappiness for a while.

That night Eve dreamed Nick was still alive. In those darkest hours just before dawn, when dreams are at their most vivid, she saw him clearly, heard his ringing laugh and knew in her very core that he was near her. The disappointment, when she opened her eyes and memory returned, made her feel physically sick. Eve looked around at the unfamiliar furnishings and knew a moment’s panic. This was not Makerham, neither was it the warm sunny place of her dream, the place where Nick was. She closed her eyes again, trying to bring the dream back, but it was impossible. All that was left was a vague, half-remembered happiness and she clung to it, holding on to it like a talisman, to be touched and rekindled when the demands of the day grew too great.
As Eve made her way downstairs she thought that Monkhurst looked much more welcoming with the morning sunshine flooding in. She found Mrs Brattee waiting to escort her to the small parlour where breakfast was laid out for her.
‘Aggie!’ Eve smiled fondly upon the housekeeper. ‘I am so sorry I missed you last night. Martha insisted that I take supper in my room, and to tell you the truth, by the time we had finished making the beds I was ready to fall asleep! You have not changed a bit, yet it must be all of ten years since I was last here!’
‘Aye, ma’am, that it is,’ replied Aggie, her harsh features softening a little. ‘And you a grown lady now. I’m that sorry for last night, Mrs Wylder. If only we’d known…’
‘It cannot be helped. We shall soon make everything comfortable.’
‘You are planning to stay here?’
Eve observed the look of horror upon the housekeeper’s face and knew a strong desire to laugh. ‘Why, yes,’ she said, taking her seat at the breakfast table. ‘Granby is very keen for me to go to Yorkshire, to his master’s house, but I would rather stay here, for now.’
‘But it’s not fit for you, mistress. It’s been empty for years.’
Eve sipped at her coffee. ‘I made a quick inspection before coming downstairs, the house is in much better order than I dared expect. One would never believe it has been ten years since it was occupied. In fact…’ Eve fixed her eyes upon the housekeeper ‘…one of the rooms—the one I used to know as the blue room—has every appearance of having been used recently.’
‘Well, mistress, how that can be I cannot say, I’m sure,’ replied Mrs Brattee, bustling about the parlour.
‘Can you not? Grandpapa always said Mama’s family had links with the free traders. I thought perhaps they might have been here.’
There was a loud crash as the dish the housekeeper had been holding dropped to the floor and shattered. Eve raised her brows.
‘Oh? Am I correct, then?’
‘No, mistress. I swear there was no smugglers sleeping in the house!’ declared Aggie, looking thoroughly alarmed.
‘Well, who?’ Eve said gently, ‘I do think I have a right to know who has been sleeping in my house.’ She waited, fixing her eyes upon the housekeeper, who shifted uncomfortably. ‘Tell me,’ she commanded.
‘I can’t, mistress. I promised I wouldn’t say.’
‘I think you must.’
The old woman eyed her doubtfully and Evelina tried again.
‘Come,’ she coaxed her gently. ‘Tell me who it was. Well?’
The housekeeper twisted her apron between her hands. ‘It was the master,’ she blurted out.
‘Grandpapa? But he has not been near the place for years.’
‘No, no, the young master,’ replied Mrs Brattee. ‘Captain Wylder.’

Chapter Seven (#ulink_d3e02dce-4ba3-5978-a32f-db963aad663a)
Evelina stared at her housekeeper. She began to tremble and clasped her hands together, digging the nails into her palms to fight down her panic.
‘When was this?’
‘About a week since.’
‘Then you saw him just before he, before—’
‘Aye, miss.’ Aggie nodded. ‘He—he came down to talk to Silas, said that now he was wed to you it would be quite proper for him to stay at Monkhurst. Showed Silas the marriage papers, he did. Everything looked to be in order so Silas let him in. Didn’t think there’d be any harm in it…’
Eve jumped to her feet. ‘No harm! Richard Granby knew of this, and he did not tell me! Where is Granby?’
‘He’s taken the old gig to the village, ma’am. Said he would fetch me some provisions, to tide us over until Silas can take me to Appledore in the cart.’
‘Then he will be gone for hours.’ Eve sank down again, her brow furrowed with thought. ‘Nick, stayed here?’ she mused. ‘But why?’
‘That I can’t say, mistress, but Silas was never one to refuse the captain—’
‘Wait.’ Evelina put her hand to her head, trying to make sense of what she was hearing. ‘Did—did my husband know Silas?’
‘He did, ma’am. They sailed together, years ago. Silas was always talking about Captain Wyldfire and he was that pleased when the captain came looking for him, but he wouldn’t let him into the house, ma’am, not until it was all legal, like.’
‘Do you mean that…that C-Captain Wylder came here before we were married?’
‘Oh, yes, ma’am.’ It seemed that now Mrs Brattee had made her confession she was happy to talk. ‘Back in the spring he fetched up here. Silas was so surprised—’
‘But what did he want?’ The closed look returned and Eve said impatiently, ‘You have told me this much, Aggie I do not think you can stop now.’
‘He…he was asking about the free trading.’
‘Is Silas—I mean—does he know about such things?’
The housekeeper gave her a pitying look. ‘There’s not a family hereabouts that doesn’t, miss.’
‘But I don’t understand. Why should Nick come hereT?’
‘That I couldn’t say, mistress. He stayed in the village for a week or more, went out with Silas and the boys—do you remember my sons, ma’am, Sam and Nathanial? You wouldn’t recognise ’em, they’re strapping men now. Both married; my Nathanial has twins and Sam has a babe on the way.’
Eve smiled reminiscently. ‘We used to play together on the Marsh, did we not? I know you did not always approve of my running wild with the boys, but Mama did not mind, and we were very young. It all changed when I was sent away to school.’
‘You had to learn to be a lady, Miss Eve.’
‘I suppose I did.’ Eve sighed. ‘But we digress. You were telling me about Captain Wylder’s visit.’
‘Ah, yes. As I was saying, Silas keeps a galley on the Marsh, you see, and Captain Nick went out with them—’
‘Wait, wait, wait!’ Eve interrupted her again. ‘Are you saying Captain Wylder helped them to smuggle goods into the country?’
‘Silas prefers to call it free trading,’ said Mrs Brattee, affronted. ‘They brings in a few barrels of brandy, sometimes a bit of Brussels lace—it’s not as though anyone hereabouts could afford to buy it, if they had to pay the duty, so it ain’t doing any harm.’
Evelina realised it would be useless to argue and turned her mind to her main anxiety. ‘But why Nick? What interest did he have in such things?’
‘There’s many a seafaring man turns to free trading to repair his fortunes, mistress.’
Eve shook her head. ‘Nick Wylder was not in need of money. I know that because Grandpapa discussed the marriage settlements with me. Not only did my husband have property, there is also a great deal of prize money invested in the Funds. So why should he come to Monkhurst?’
‘The captain was very interested in the house, but Silas was adamant. Apart from the odd visit from your grandpapa, Monkhurst has been shut up since your parents died.’ Aggie gave a noisy sigh. ‘Very attached to your mama, was Silas. Apple of his eye, she was, so he wasn’t about to let anyone into her house. Even when your cousin, Mr Bernard Shawcross, came down here a couple o’ years ago. Silas turned him away, sayin’ he’d had his orders from your grandpapa to shut the house up and shut it would remain.’ She snorted. ‘And your cousin didn’t take it anything like as well as Cap’n Wyldfire. Raged at Silas, he did; said he was family and entitled to be let in, but Silas said if that was the case he should go and get permission from your grandfather.’
‘Yes, but what of Captain Wylder?’ Eve prompted her gently.
‘The cap’n went off. Back to London, we thought. Then, next thing we knows, he comes back to tell us he’s wed—and to our own Miss Shawcross!’
‘But why did he not tell me he had been to Monkhurst, or that he was coming back here?’
The housekeeper’s blank look was genuine, and Eve forbore to press her further. However, the question continued to plague Eve. She played with the gold band on her finger, turning it round and round as an answer lodged itself in her brain. Nick had not trusted her.
Only because he did not know me, she told herself fiercely. He would have learned to trust me, in time. If only…A little scream of frustration forced its way up through her. She banged her fist into her palm. ‘Ooooh, I hate that man!’ she hissed. ‘How could he do this to me? I hate him, I hate him!’
Tears welled up again but she fought them down. She would be strong. And she would get to the bottom of this mystery.

However, an interview with Silas proved even less rewarding, for the old man merely shook his head, saying he had no idea why Captain Nick had come looking for him.
‘But you took him out in your boat with you when he was here in the spring.’ She added quickly, ‘Come now, Silas, I know all about your…activities.’
‘The captain ain’t concerned with the piddlin’ little bits we bring in,’ he said. ‘He’s after bigger fish, that much I do know. But he was impressed with the galley that we uses to go in and out to the sea. Deal-made, she is, and fast in the water. Me brother Ephraim ’as another just such a one over at Dimchurch and I told the cap’n how in the old days we used her to row across to Boulogne. Can’t beat Kentish oarsman, mistress, although these days when there’s a drop we just meets the lugger off shore and brings in what we need through Jury’s Cut.’
‘I am sure you do, but it is still illegal, Silas, and I cannot have it.’ She regarded him steadily. ‘You must promise me to give up the trade, Silas. I will find work for you, and for Nat and Samuel, but you must not take part in any further smuggling.’
It was not to be expected that Silas would capitulate immediately, but Eve was adamant and eventually she wrested from him a grudging promise that he would cease his illegal activities. Satisfied on this point, Eve could once more give her attention to finding out why Nick had come to Monkhurst.
‘What did Captain Wylder want here, Silas? How long did he stay in the house?’
‘No more’n a couple o’ nights. We took a dinghy out on the Monkhurst Drain, Miss Eve, that leads down to Jury’s Cut and the sea, and I showed ’im the boathouse, but that ain’t been used for years.’ Silas twisted his cap in his hands and looked at Eve anxiously. ‘I didn’t think there was any harm in it, mistress, knowing the cap’n, and him now being family…’
‘And you trusted him, Silas?’ she said, a little wistfully.
‘With my life, mistress. The cap’n knew I’d follow him anywhere,’ he ended proudly. ‘When we was fighting the rebels in the American War he was never happier than when he was kicking up a dust. Unpredictable, see, like his nickname, Wyldfire. He was here one minute, then the next, he’s up and gone to Hastings.’ Silas frowned, shaking his head. ‘Not but what that was a mistake, God rest his soul.’
There was nothing more to be learned from the old man. Evelina dismissed him, but the problem nagged at her throughout the morning while she worked her way through the house, trying to decide what was required to make it a comfortable home. The early morning sun had given way to heavy storm-clouds and a blustery wind whistled through the passages, signalling a change from the dry, sunny weather of the past few weeks.

It was noon before Eve heard the sounds of the gig returning. A glance out of the window showed her that it was raining heavily and she felt a certain grim satisfaction when she saw that Granby had omitted to take a greatcoat with him, and was soaked through. She hurried to the kitchens and found the valet drying himself off before the kitchen fire. Paying no heed to Mrs Brattee, who was busy unpacking the baskets Granby had brought in for her, Eve went straight into the attack.
‘Why did you not tell me my husband stayed here?’
Granby swung round and she saw the flash of surprise before he schooled his countenance to its usual inscrutable mask. ‘I thought it might distress you, ma’am.’
‘I am more distressed to think you lied to me. What else have you omitted to tell me?’ she demanded. ‘What was Captain Wylder doing here?’
‘I believe he wished to renew his acquaintance with Mr Brattee and his family,’ said Granby, smoothly.
‘But he had already done that, he had visited Silas before he made Grandpapa’s acquaintance at Tunbridge Wells.’
The valet bowed. ‘As you say, madam.’
Eve watched him closely. ‘Captain Wylder told me he had business in Sussex.’
The valet inclined his head. ‘That is true ma’am. The master stayed here only a few nights before going on to Hastings.’
‘And this…business: did it involve smuggling?’
Granby looked shocked. ‘Captain Wylder’s acquaintances in Hastings are most respectable people, ma’ am.’
‘I do hope so, Mr Granby.’
He smiled a little and spread his hands. ‘You have my word upon it, Mrs Wylder.’
‘I shall have more than that.’
‘Ma’am?’
Eve put her hands on her hips and looked at him. ‘Go and change into dry clothes, Mr Granby. And order my carriage. We are going to Hastings.’
Granby’s smile vanished. ‘Hastings! Now?’
‘Yes, now. As soon as we are packed.’
‘But, madam, there is not the least need—’
‘There is every need,’ she flung at him. ‘I am anxious to know that I am not the widow of a common villain!’
‘Mrs Wylder, I beg of you, at least postpone your journey until this storm has eased.’

Richard Granby stood beside Eve in the doorway, looking out with dismay at the rain that lashed the house while the coachman packed the trunks securely, water running from the brim of his hat and his oiled coat.
‘I am determined to reach Hastings today,’ she retorted. ‘You may ride in the carriage with Martha and me, if you do not wish to get another soaking.’
The valet declined the offer, and clambered miserably up beside Dan Coachman.
‘He is afraid I shall interrogate him further,’ remarked Eve cheerfully as she climbed into the carriage.
Her maid sniffed as she settled herself beside her mistress. ‘Mr Granby was only trying to save you unnecessary worry, Miss Eve.’
‘Is that what he has told you, Martha?’
‘No, madam, but I know he’s a good man.’
‘Is he?’ Eve looked closely at her maid. ‘You seem to be uncommon friendly with Richard Granby.’
Martha flushed, but she said stiffly, ‘Given his position and mine, it is only natural that we should talk.’
Eve forbore to tease her. ‘Of course it is,’ she said, turning her mind back to her own worries. ‘And if Mr Granby has passed on anything concerning my husband’s death, I would like you to tell me, Martha. I shall not be easy until I know what sort of business it was that took my husband away from Makerham in such haste. I hope we may find some answers at Hastings.’ She leaned back against the thickly padded seat. ‘And I confess I want to see where Nick spent his last days,’ she murmured to herself.

The wind howled around them, rocking the carriage while the heavy rain drummed on the roof and pattered against the windows. The pace was necessarily slow. The storm grew worse as they neared the coast and it was a relief to drive through Rye, for although the cobbles shook the coach until Eve’s teeth rattled in her head, at least the houses gave them some shelter from the buffeting winds. The carriage slowed to a stop and Eve leaned forwards to peer out of the window. A horseman had stopped beside them and was shouting something at the coachman.
Eve let down the window. ‘What is it, is there a problem?’
The rider turned to look at her, touching his hand to his sodden hat.
‘Aye, ma’am. The Winchelsea road is closed. They wanted to take advantage of the dry weather to repair the road, but the dam—dashed fools didn’t start it until yesterday. Now the grass verge is too wet to take the weight of a carriage and there’s only room for a horse to squeeze by.’
‘Is there another route?’ asked Eve.
The rider nodded. ‘Aye, you can go via Broad Oak Cross and then south through Battle.’
Granby leaned down from the box, shaking his head at her. ‘That’s a long journey, Mrs Wylder. Dan says he must proceed slowly if we are not to be overturned by the high winds on the open road.’
‘Then that is what we shall do,’ said Eve decisively. ‘Tell him to drive on!’
‘Very well, madam.’
Martha sniffed. ‘The poor man will very likely catch his death sitting up on the box in this weather.’
‘Very likely,’ replied Eve, unmoved.
‘We should turn back,’ said her forthright handmaiden. ‘No good can come of this, Miss Eve, you mark my words. What do you want to go traipsing all the way to Hasting for? What if you hears things you didn’t want to know about the master?’
Eve did not answer. Martha had voiced the fear that had been nagging at her, that Nick was involved in some villainous activity, but it was no good. She had to know the truth, however bad. Besides, illogical as it was, she wanted to visit the place where he had died.
To say goodbye.
Tears filled her eyes again and she blinked them away, angry at herself. Why should she feel such sorrow for a man she had known for less than a month? Yet the tug of attraction had been so strong, she could not resist it. He still haunted her dreams. Nick had wound his way so effectively into her heart that now his loss threatened to break it.
‘You are a fool, Evelina,’ she told herself angrily. ‘You let yourself believe that Grandpapa had brought you a knight in shining armour!’
The sudden stopping of the carriage dragged her away from her depressing thoughts.
‘Oh, Heavens, what is it now?’ cried Martha.
The cab rocked as someone climbed down from the box and Eve pressed her nose to the window, trying to see out. It was impossible; inside, the glass misted with her breath and outside the raindrops distorted her view. She let down the window and immediately the driving rain slapped at her face. There was another carriage stopped in front of them, and Granby was talking in earnest conversation with the driver, one hand clamped over his hat to prevent the wind from whipping it away.
‘There is some sort of hold up,’ she said to her maid as she put up the window once more. ‘Granby is looking into it now.’
Moments later the valet yanked open the door. Even though he was standing on the most sheltered side of the carriage the wind swirled around and threatened to drag the coach door out of his hands.
‘The road is under water, ma’am. A culvert has collapsed. One wagon has already tried to drive through and has broken an axle. No one is hurt,’ he hastened to assure them, ‘but we must turn back.’
Reluctantly Eve agreed. She glanced past him at the rain, still sheeting down. The thought of spending another couple of hours returning to Monkhurst was not a pleasant one.
‘Very well, Granby. Tell Dan to drive back to the nearest village. We will put up for the night.’

But when they drove into Udimore, Eve took one look at the rundown hostelry and quickly changed her mind. She ordered Dan to drive back to Rye.
‘What I saw of the slatternly maids and greasy landlord convinced me we should not be comfortable there,’ she said to her maid as the carriage set off once more. ‘Granby tells me we passed several well-appointed inns at Rye. We shall do better there.’
‘I do hope so, madam,’ replied Martha in a failing voice. ‘I fear if I don’t get out o’ this jarring, jolting cab soon I shall have to ask you for your smelling salts!’
Eve laughed. ‘Then I would have to disappoint you, Martha, for I do not carry such a thing!
‘Well then, it’s a good job I put a bottle of Glass’s Magnesia in your dressing case! With your permission, Miss Eve, I shall take some as soon as I can lay my hands on it.’
‘You would be better advised to take a little walk and get some fresh air,’ replied Eve, ‘but as you wish.’
She looked out of the window. The rain had eased a little and looking up she saw the squat tower of Rye church, secure on its hill, a black outline against the lowering sky. The clatter of hooves on the cobbles told Eve that they had reached the town and she knew a few moments’ anxiety when they pulled up at the George, only to be told that every available room had been taken, but minutes later the carriage turned into the yard of the Mermaid, another busy coaching inn, and Granby was holding open the door for her to alight. Evelina had the impression of overhanging eves and a half-timbered building surrounding the yard as she hurried across to the entrance. She was immediately shown into a small private parlour filled with gleaming brassware and polished panelling.
‘This is very much more the thing!’ she exclaimed. ‘A warm, clean room and the most appetising smell from the kitchens. I vow I am quite famished. Granby must bespeak dinner for us as soon as maybe.’
Her maid groaned. ‘I feel as sick as a cat, miss.’
‘Poor Martha. Sit you down then and rest until the landlord brings us coffee. Or should I ask him for some tea?’
‘Just as you like, miss. I wants nothing more than to sit quiet for a bit.’
‘Then you shall do just that. Granby is organising our rooms for us and will see that our bags are taken upstairs. I never realised before how useful it is to have a man to do these things for one. Perhaps I shall keep him on, after all, as my major-domo.’ A glance at the pale figure sitting beside the fire showed her that Martha was not listening, so she busied herself instead with making them both comfortable. She helped her maid to remove her bonnet and cloak and put them with her own over a chair. A rosy-cheeked maid brought in her coffee, apologising for the delay.
‘We’ve been that busy, what with the storm and everything. Every table’s took.’ She looked around, smiled and bobbed a curtsy. ‘You’m lucky to have this parlour, madam. You’ll be comfy enough in here.’
As the maid went out, Martha opened one eye. ‘Will you not sit down, miss? You must be exhausted, all that travelling—’
‘Not a bit of it! I did not like being bounced all over the road, but I am more excited than tired. You know how little I have travelled. My last real journey was to go to Tunbridge with Grandpapa two years ago and the pace was so slow and decorous I think we would have moved quicker had we walked!’ She went over to the window and looked out. ‘If it would only stop raining, we could take a walk now and see the town.’
Her handmaiden groaned again and Eve turned back to her.
‘Poor Martha, here am I, chattering on when you are feeling so poorly. You do look very pale, you poor thing. Perhaps a little Magnesia would settle your stomach. I wonder where Granby can be. He will have taken the dressing case to my bedchamber. Well, perhaps the landlord can show me the way.’
She went to the door and looked out. The corridor was very busy and through the doorway opposite she could see that the taproom was packed with men enjoying a mug of ale and pipe of tobacco while they sheltered from the rain. To her right was a much more ordered scene, for the corridor opened on to the coffee room where travellers were seated at small tables and were served refreshments by a number of harassed-looking waiters. Of the landlord or the cheerful maid there was no sign. Undeterred, Eve stepped out of the room to go in search of her host. The ancient building was large and irregular, and for a moment Eve could not decide on the best way to go. She had seen a number of people using a door on the far side of the coffee room and surmised that it would lead to an inner hall where she might find an obliging chambermaid who would take her upstairs. Eve made her way quickly through the coffee room, trying to ignore the inquisitive stares of its patrons. She kept her eyes fixed upon the door, putting out her hand as she approached. It opened easily, swinging away from her and she spotted Granby in the corridor beyond, talking with a group of ragged-looking men. In her haste she did not see the slight step down and she found herself hurtling through the doorway, off balance. She cannoned off the man nearest the door.
‘Oh, I beg your pardon,’ she gasped as strong arms shot out to steady her. ‘I—’
Her words died away as she looked up and found herself staring up into the all-too-familiar face of Nick Wylder.

Chapter Eight (#ulink_b3e314b9-ab51-5554-a9c2-85f038a9775c)
Evelina’s breath caught in her throat and for an instant she thought she might faint. The look of surprise on Nick’s face gave way to one of wry humour. The corners of his mouth lifted.
‘Oh, lord,’ he murmured. ‘This was not meant to happen.’
Eve regained her balance and pushed away from him. Something was wrong. It was her husband, but it was not the fashionable beau she had married. The superbly tailored frock-coat and snow-white linen were replaced with a worn frieze jacket and a coloured shirt, while his raven-black hair was no longer neatly confined by a ribbon and one black lock hung rakishly over his eyes. The blood was drumming in her ears as she sought to make sense of the situation.
‘You are alive.’ She could not take her eyes from his face. ‘But how, why—?’
One of the other men shook his head and said warningly, ‘Cap’n…’
Nick put up his hand. ‘I cannot explain now, sweetheart, but you must not been seen with me. Richard shall take you back to your room.’
‘No—I—’
Nick reached out and caught her arms. ‘I will explain it all later.’ He gave her a little shake. ‘Go back inside, Eve. You must act as if you have not seen me, do you understand?’
Eve swallowed hard. She understood nothing and wanted to argue.
‘Eve.’ He held her eyes. ‘I need you to do this for me.’
‘Y-you’ll come to me?’ she whispered, her hands still clutching at his coat.
‘You have my word.’ He looked down at her, then in one sudden movement he pulled her to him and kissed her once, hard, on the mouth. ‘I’ll join you in your room, very soon. Now go.’ He turned her away from him and gave her a little push.
Richard Granby took her arm and walked her back to the private parlour. There was so much conjecture in her head that this time she did not notice the diners in the coffee room or the raucous laughter as they passed the taproom.
Granby ushered her into the private parlour. Martha, who had been dozing in her chair, uttered a shriek and jumped to her feet.
‘In Heaven’s name, Richard, what have you done to her?’
Granby guided Eve to a chair and gently pressed her down. ‘She has had a shock. Can you fetch a glass of wine?’
Eve raised one hand. ‘No,’ she said, her voice unsteady. ‘I want nothing, only to know what is happening.’
‘It will all be explained later, ma’am. For the moment you must stay here and say nothing.’
‘May I not tell Martha?’
‘Tell me what?’ demanded her maid, looking bewildered.
Granby gave her a reassuring smile. ‘Oh, I think there would be no harm in that, as long as it goes no further. I shall return in a little while and escort you to your room.’
He bowed and retired in his usual unhurried style, leaving Martha almost hopping with impatience.
‘What is it, Miss Eve, what are you to tell me?’
Eve stared at her anxious face. ‘I have just seen Captain Wylder. He is alive.’
Martha’s reaction was as noisy as Eve’s had been controlled. She screamed and fell back on her chair, drumming her heels on the floor. It was unfortunate that the tavern-maid chose that moment to come in with a fresh pot of coffee. Remembering Nick’s words, Eve knew it was imperative that Martha did not blurt out her secret, so she immediately took her by the shoulders and shook her.
‘Stop it, stop it this instant!’ Her sharp treatment had its effect; Martha stopped shrieking and subsided into noisy sobs. Eve dismissed the round-eyed tavern-maid and waited patiently until Martha had stopped crying and mopped her eyes. With no more than the occasional hiccup she apologised for her outburst and quietly requested her mistress to tell her everything. Eve obliged, but she found that relating her meeting with Nick only added to her frustration, for Martha kept asking her questions she could not answer.
Eve wanted nothing more than to sit quietly and consider her own feelings. The first shock of finding herself face to face with her husband had been followed by a surge of elation, but that had been replaced almost immediately with consternation. Why had he wanted her to believe he was dead? Answers crowded in upon her, none of them satisfactory, most too painful to contemplate, so she resolutely pushed them aside, determined to remain calm and to await Nick’s explanation. Martha’s reaction to the news was much more straightforward. The master was alive, and she was glad of it. Eve wished she could be so easily satisfied. She was relieved when at last Granby came in the room and announced that the landlord was waiting to escort her to her room.
‘It is our finest apartment, madam,’ their host told her as he led the way through a winding corridor and up the stairs. ‘It has been said that good Queen Bess herself slept there. I am sure you will find it very comfortable.’ At the end of a dim corridor he threw open the door and stood back for her to enter. ‘There, is it not a handsome apartment?’
Eve had to agree with him. It was a large, square room with an ornate plaster ceiling and richly carved panelling on every wall. Candles glowed from the wall sconces, illuminating the rich scarlet-and-gold hangings that decorated the huge tester-bed and the matching curtains pulled across the window to blot out the gloomy rain-sodden sky. A large chest of drawers and a sofa covered in wine-red damask occupied the far corner of the room and the only other items of furniture were two chairs and a small gatelegged table set before the stone fireplace, where a merry blaze crackled. The table was already laden with dishes and it was set with two places. Eve’s eyes flew to the landlord. He beamed at her and tapped his nose.
‘Mr Granby suggested a collation, so you need have no servants interrupting you. There’s meats, bread, pastries, fruit—everything you could wish.’ He pointed to a little door in the corner of the room. ‘That is a private stair, madam. Leads up to your maid’s room and down to the back hall, so even she can come and go to the kitchen for her dinner without disturbing you.’ He gave her a knowing wink and Eve felt her cheeks grow hot.
‘Thank you.’
With another beaming smile the landlord bowed himself out and shut the door carefully behind him. Martha was already bustling around, inspecting the room.
‘Very comfortable, Miss Eve. Everything just as it should be. And very clean, not a speck of dust. Shall I unpack your trunk, ma’am? Seems such a lot of work for just one night.’
‘Yes. No. That is, no.’ Eve tried to think of practical matters, but her brain did not want to work.
‘Then I’ll lay out your nightgown—’
‘No! No, leave it where it is, Martha. Go now. I shall call you if I need you again. Oh, Martha—’ she pulled a small bottle from her dressing case and handed it to the maid. ‘You never did dose your self with Glass’s Magnesia.’
‘No, ma’am, I’ll take it now, if you don’t mind. Thank you. That is, if you don’t want it yourself?’
Eve looked towards the table, where a decanter and two glasses stood in readiness for the coming meal. She felt in need of something more than medicine. ‘No, but you may pour me a glass of wine before you go.’
Eve watched the maid fill up one glass with blood-red wine before making her way to her own room. The little door closed behind her with a click and Eve was alone. But it was not the peace of the old room that enveloped Eve: it was a brittle, ice-cold fury.
‘I will not see him!’ she said aloud. ‘He has treated me abominably. I shall not see him.’
She walked over to the main door and bolted it. There was a wooden peg on the door to the servants’ stairs and she used it to secure the latch. She gave a long, deep sigh. There, it was done. Slowly she removed her pelisse, folded it neatly and placed it upon her trunk before returning to the table and picking up her glass of wine. The storm had passed and there was a stillness about the room. No noise filtered through to her from below and the air seemed to settle around her, calm and tranquil, in complete contrast to her own nerves, which were stretched tight as a bowstring. Let him knock. Let him hammer on the door, she would not admit him.
She stood in the middle of the room, facing the door, straining to hear the slightest sound. Clutching at her wineglass, she silently berated herself for her anxiety. No one could surprise her, the room was secure. Or was it? The scrape of wood on wood made her spin around in time to see one of the panels beside the fireplace swing open and Nick Wylder step into the room. He still wore the frieze coat, but instead of the tattered coloured shirt he now wore a fresh white one, fastened with a froth of white lace at his throat, and a black ribbon at the nape of his neck confined his black hair, glossy as a raven’s wing. The baggy sailor’s trousers and worn shoes had been replaced by buckskins and topboots. With the skirts of his coat swinging around him the inconsequential thought came to her that he looked every inch a pirate. Nick gestured towards the panel.
‘The stair leads up directly from the alley. You need not be alarmed; I have bolted the door at the foot of the stairs; no one else can come in that way.’
He stood, feet slightly apart, hands at his sides, watching her. Like a cat, she thought. Alert, wary. Eve’s heart had misssed a beat but now it was thudding painfully against her ribs. She did not know whether she was going to laugh or cry, to be thankful or furious.
‘You did not drown,’ she said at last.
‘No. Sweetheart, I am so sorry I was not there to help you when Sir Benjamin died.’
‘You lied to me.’
‘Evelina, I—’
A red mist descended over Eve, blotting out reason. The wineglass flew from her hand, its contents leaving a dark trail across the floor. Nick side-stepped neatly and the glass sailed past him to smash against the wall.
‘How dare you!’
‘Sweetheart, listen to me—’ He ducked as she snatched up the second glass and hurled it towards him. ‘Eve, I am sorry. Let me explain—’
His words were lost as the glass shattered on the panelling and fell in tinkling shards to the floor. With a shriek of rage Eve picked up the carving knife and advanced upon him.
‘I hate you, Nick Wylder!’
As she hurled herself at him he caught her arm, holding the lethal blade away. ‘Eve, I had no choice.’
Unable to plunge the knife into his heart, Eve brought up her other hand, her fingers curled ready to scratch his eyes out. With an oath Nick caught at her arm, easily overpowering her.
‘I know you are angry, my love, but I am not going to let you kill me.’ His fingers tightened on her wrist; her grip loosened and the knife clattered harmlessly to the floor. ‘That’s better.’ He grinned and released her. ‘No wonder my father said never trust the carving to a woman!’
‘Are you never serious?’ She gave a sob of frustration and began to beat at his chest with her fists.
Nick reached out and put his arms about her, pulling her closer. ‘I know,’ he said quietly as she continued to pound him. ‘I know I was a monster for doing this to you.’
She hammered her fists against his hard, unyielding body until there was no strength left in her arms. Then, as her anger evaporated, it was replaced by tears. She found herself crying; huge, gulping sobs that could not be controlled. She did not resist as Nick pulled her closer, stroking her head and murmuring softly. He continued to hold her while she cried herself out and at last she collapsed against him, taking deep, shuddering breaths. He reached into one of the capacious pockets of the old coat and pulled out a clean handkerchief.
‘I thought this might be needed,’ he murmured, pressing it into her hand. ‘I had no idea my wife had such a temper.’
‘Nor I,’ mumbled Eve from beneath the handkerchief.
He touched his lips to her hair. ‘Now will you listen to me? Will you let me try to explain?’ He guided her across to the sofa and they sat down together, Nick keeping one arm firmly around her shoulders. ‘I did not plan this, Eve. Believe me.’
‘Why should I believe you?’ Angrily she shrugged off his arm and sat up very straight while she wiped her eyes. ‘You have lied to me from the beginning. You married me to gain control of Monkhurst, did you not?’
‘Richard told me you had gone there. Yes, it is true that I wanted access to Monkhurst. Marrying you was one way to get that.’
Misery clutched at her heart. ‘You are despicable!’
He sighed. ‘Perhaps I am, but I never meant to hurt you. I admit I went to Tunbridge Wells in search of your grandfather, knowing he owned Monkhurst. I soon learned that the property was part of your marriage settlement and that Sir Benjamin was looking for a husband for you.’ The irrepressible smile tugged at his mouth. ‘It all fitted neatly with my plan—and my family have been nagging me for years to settle down so I knew I would be pleasing them, too. So I accepted Sir Benjamin’s invitation to visit you at Makerham. What I had not anticipated was finding such an adorable young lady waiting to meet me.’
Evelina stifled the traitorous surge of pleasure she felt at his words. She dare not consider them or her brittle self-control might shatter. She injected a touch of impatience into her voice. ‘And just what were your plans? Why did you need Monkhurst?’
‘I suspected Monkhurst was being used by smugglers.’
‘Very likely.’ She shrugged. ‘Nearly every house in the area would be the same.’
‘Yes, I know that, but—I think I should go back to the beginning.’ He paused and Eve waited, pulling his handkerchief through her restless fingers. ‘My—ah—adventurous career in the navy brought me to the attention of the Admiralty, and since returning to England I have been working for them, investigating certain…activities.’
‘Smuggling. You have said that.’
‘Yes, but not the innocuous practice carried out by Silas and his friends, a few barrels of French brandy and bundles of Brussels lace. The villains I seek are involved in a much bigger enterprise. Not only are they depriving the government of duty—and before you interrupt me let me say that I have heard all the arguments that the duty is too high! The people I seek are flooding the country with a tea that is, at best, illegal and at worst, poisonous.
‘They call it smouch. It is made from leaves gathered from the English hedgerows and mixed with chamber-lye, green vitriol and other choice ingredients, including, very often, sheep’s dung. Then it is baked and rubbed to a black dust. Quite,’ he said, observing her look of horror. ‘I traced the most recent consignments to this coast. It is being shipped to Boulogne, then sold to our—er—freetraders.’
‘But they wouldn’t,’ she exclaimed. ‘Silas would never carry such a cargo.’
‘Not knowingly, but he has been duped into bringing it ashore. Did you not think it odd that Mrs Brattee had no tea in her store cupboard when you arrived at Monkhurst? Now Silas knows the truth he will not trust any tea coming from the Continent.’
Eve’s eyes darkened. ‘It is some horrid French plot to poison us!’
Nick shook his head. ‘I wish I could say that was it; the evidence points to it being made in this country, and in this area.’
‘And you suspected Monkhurst? My house?’
‘One of the cargoes we intercepted contained a fragment of a letter. Monkhurst was mentioned in it. Silas swore there was no connection, but I wanted to see for myself.’
‘So you married me to gain access to my house.’
‘Yes.’
She threw him another savage look. ‘You do not apologise for it.’
He smiled. ‘I am not sorry I married you, Evelina. I never could be.’
Her skin tingled when saw the glint in his blue eyes. It was difficult to remain angry when he smiled at her like that. She reminded herself that his smiles meant nothing. They were as worthless as his honeyed words. She looked away, scowling. ‘Go on.’
‘Once Silas was persuaded to let me into the house we searched it thoroughly. There are extensive cellars, and a very interesting underground passage leading to the boathouse on Monkhurst Drain, but no sign that it has been used in recent years.’
‘Well there is nothing secret about that! Mama showed me the tunnel when I was a child. She told me her grandfather had built it so that the family need not get wet walking to the boathouse on rainy days, but if that was the case why does it come up into the kitchen? And why is the entrance hidden behind the panelling at the back of the boathouse? From the outside the tunnel is well hidden; it appears that the boathouse is built into the bank.’ Eve shook her head. ‘I always believed it was built for smuggling goods into the house, but Mama would never admit it.’ She forgot her anger as a half-forgotten memory surfaced. ‘I remember having nightmares about people stealing into the house through the tunnel, so Papa took me down there. He showed me the iron grating at the far end. It had a big lock and the key was kept on a hook in the tunnel, so that anyone from the house could get out, but no one could get in.’
‘That is still the case, Eve, so you may still rest easy. But the boathouse is in a sad state of repair.’
‘When Mama and Papa died the boats were sold. Grandpapa kept the house in order, but we only visited Monkhurst once or twice after that.’
Nick had stretched his arm along the back of the sofa. His fingers were playing with one of the curls at her neck. It was a great temptation to turn her head and rest her cheek against his hand, but she resisted it.
‘And what about you, Eve?’ he said softly. ‘Do you dislike the house?’
‘Oh, no, it holds only good memories for me. We lived there until I was about nine, you see, then I went to stay with Grandpapa while my parents went abroad and…they never came back. They died in Italy.’
His fingers left the curl and squeezed her shoulder. ‘I know, you told me they caught a fever. I am sorry.’
‘So, too, am I, but it was a long time ago.’
‘I am sorry, too, about your grandfather, and even sorrier that I could not be with you.’
She drew herself up, not prepared to accept his sympathy. She hunched her shoulder to shake off his hand, yet was disappointed when he removed it. She said gruffly, ‘We are straying from the point, sir. Why did you leave Makerham so suddenly?’
‘My enquiries had led me to suspect that Lord Chelston was involved in this business. He owns a sizeable property near Northiam and keeps a yacht at Hastings. I have had people watching him for some time now, but he is very elusive. On the morning after our wedding I received word that a rendezvous had been arranged. After so many months of work I could not leave my men to deal with it alone, so I had to come here to the coast.’
‘But you have not arrested Lord Chelston?
‘He is a powerful man. We need hard evidence before we make our suspicions known. Besides, I want to catch all the main players and close down the whole operation. If we move too soon they will merely go underground, move production to a new location.
‘These people are clever; they have a warehouse in Boulogne. The French are not averse to helping anyone who is working against England. You said yourself, smuggling is a way of life in these parts; the local gangs are trusted by their regular customers who believe they are purchasing good Black Bohea.’ He leaned forwards, resting his elbows on his knees. ‘There were reports that a consignment of smouch was ready to be shipped out of Hastings on a brigantine and transferred to a French lugger cruising off this coast. We thought it would be possible to catch Chelston’s men red-handed with the goods; with their evidence we could convict him. Captain George has a cutter at his disposal, the Argos, but on the night of the rendezvous some of us were in disguise on a small fishing smack, hoping to get close enough to the brigantine to board and overpower the crew, but they discovered the plot.’
‘What happened?’ asked Eve, enthralled in spite of herself.
‘In the fighting I was shot and toppled into the water.’
‘Shot!’
‘A flesh wound, just below the ribs. Nothing serious, but it carried me over the side. Thankfully I managed to swim to the Argos, but having been lost overboard it was decided it would be to our advantage to let everyone else think I had perished.’
Eve kept her eyes on his profile, noting the fine laughter lines etched at the corner of his eye and at the side of his fine, curving lips. It would be so easy to lose her heart to him all over again. She squared her shoulders, determined to resist the temptation.
‘I understand that you would not want these villains to know you were alive, but what of me?’ she said quietly. ‘Why did you send Granby to tell me you were dead?’
He turned his head to look at her and for once there was no smile in his blue eyes. ‘I never intended to tell you. I thought we could wrap up this matter quickly and there would be no need for you to know. Then I received your note, saying your grandfather had died, and I knew I would have to send Granby to you.’
‘But why? I do not understand.’
‘Because the man who shot me was your cousin, Bernard Shawcross.’

Chapter Nine (#ulink_392985c0-da4e-558f-98e6-5239a5c501d5)
‘Either the world has gone mad or I have lost my wits!’ Eve put her hands to her cheeks. ‘Confess you are joking me.’
‘It is no joke, Eve,’ Nick said quietly. ‘When you wrote to tell me of Sir Benjamin’s death, I knew Shawcross would go to Makerham. When your note reached me I was too weak to leave my bed or I promise you I would have found some way to get to you. Instead I had to send Richard to protect you.’ With a sudden, impulsive move he slid from the sofa to kneel on the floor before her, taking her hands and looking up earnestly into her face. ‘I never meant to cause you such pain, Evelina; we had known each other less than a month, only one night married—I did not think you could care for me so very much.’
‘Well, you were wrong,’ she muttered, pulling her hands away. She rose and walked about the room, trying to make sense of all he had told her.
Nick sat back down on the sofa, watching her. At last he said, ‘You are looking very pale, love. Are you hungry? When did you last eat?’
She stopped her pacing, frowning as if she did not understand his words. ‘At breakfast.’
‘Then we must dine.’ He jumped up. ‘But first, my little termagant, we need to call your maid.’
Martha was quickly summoned and came into the room, dipping a slight curtsey towards Nick as she did so.
‘I am very pleased to see you looking so well, Captain Wylder.’
‘Thank you, Martha,’ he responded cheerfully. ‘Would you be good enough to bring up some fresh glasses? We had a—er—little accident with the others. But mind, not a word to anyone that I am here.’
She nodded solemnly. ‘No sir, I’ll keep mum, my word on it.’
Nick smiled at her and Eve noted with a stab of irritation how her usually stern-faced maidservant softened under the force of his charm.
‘And I’ll fetch a brush to clear up the glass in the corner, too, Cap’n.’
When she had gone Nick shrugged off his coat and tossed it aside. ‘I hope you do not object to me dining in my shirtsleeves, sweetheart, but this is a very rough, workaday garment, not at all suitable for sitting down to dinner with a lady.’
He was not wearing a waistcoat, and the linen shirt fell softly over his powerful shoulders. Eve observed the contrast between the billowing white shirt and tightfitting buckskins that hugged his narrow hips and powerful thighs. Memories of that strong, athletic body pressed against hers made her tremble and she resolutely pushed them aside. As Nick came to the table she realised that he was not walking with his usual grace.
‘Your wound,’ she said. ‘Is it very painful?’
‘Only if I move too quickly.’ The corners of his mouth lifted. ‘Or if I have to fight off an angry lady.’
She ignored that. ‘May I see it?’
‘There is little to see,’ he said, pulling his shirt away from the waistband of his buckskins. ‘It is almost healed.’
‘Then why is it still bandaged?’
‘Protection,’ he told her. ‘The wound still bleeds occasionally.’ He lifted his shirt away and Eve gazed down at the white linen strips that were bound around his body. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘do you want me to remove the bandages, so that you may see I am telling the truth?’
Eve flushed. ‘I believe you.’ She waved her hand at him. ‘Pray, tuck in your shirt.’
He unbuttoned the waistband of his buckskins and she could not resist the temptation to look at the exposed skin on his stomach and abdomen, smooth and taut with a shadow of crisp black hairs, a shadow that continued on down towards—
Eve dragged her eyes away. She must not think of such things because it made the excitement stir deep inside and her knees grew weak. She sat down abruptly at the table, her hands clasped tightly in her lap while he finished tidying his clothes. Nick Wylder was a scoundrel. She must not think of him as anything else.
Martha bustled back into the room and while she busied herself sweeping up the broken glass, Eve tried to concentrate upon Nick’s story, and not upon his body. The mere thought of dining together made her mouth dry; the little table was so small their knees would almost be touching beneath it. She watched Nick follow the maid to the door and lock it after her. She was not sure if that made her feel more or less safe; might as well be locked in with a tiger, she thought as he prowled back towards her.
‘I cannot believe Bernard is involved in smuggling.’ Nerves made her voice sharper than she intended. ‘He is an odious little toad, but I cannot think so ill of him.’
Nick poured wine into her glass. ‘Can you not? It is a very lucrative trade.’
Eve was silent. After a moment she said slowly, ‘I think I told you that at one time he was always calling upon Grandpapa, asking him for money, coming to Makerham to hide from his creditors.’
‘But not recently?’
‘No. You saw him at the wedding; a modish new coat and his own carriage.’ She paused while he carved a slice of ham and put it on her plate. ‘He asked Mr Didcot about Monkhurst. He thought it was part of Grandpapa’s estate.’ She clasped her hands together, her fingers tightening until the knuckles showed white. ‘He began to—to hint that I should marry him, now that you were—that I was…’
‘Now that you were a widow.’
‘Yes.’ She did not look at him. ‘That was why I left Makerham. I feared he might…compromise me.’
‘For that alone I would thrash him,’ he muttered savagely.
She smiled slightly. ‘Thank you. But you cannot blame him; he believes you are dead. Is that not what you wanted, to catch the villains unawares?’
‘Yes, but it wasn’t only that; I thought it would protect you. Once Chelston knew I was on to him, I feared that he might try to get to me through you. Making Chelston think I was out of the way removed that threat. However, when Sir Benjamin died I knew your cousin would be swift to claim his inheritance and if he suspected news of my death was a ruse then you would be in even greater danger. That is why I asked Richard to take you to my family in the north. I could be sure you would be safe there.’ His eyes softened. ‘I did not know then what a stubborn little minx I had married.’
‘If Mr Granby had told me the truth—’
‘Poor Richard was merely following my orders.’ Nick hesitated. ‘I did not know—I did not know if I could trust you.’
She shrugged, the core of misery hardening in her heart. She had thought as much. ‘And now?’ She looked up. His eyes were midnight blue in the candle-glow. Inscrutable.
‘Now I have no choice.’ He reached across the table for her hand. ‘I cannot be sorry that you know the truth, Eve, but this is a dangerous game; you would be advised to let Granby escort you to Yorkshire, to the protection of my family. I will join you there when I have finished my work here.’
‘But you could still be killed.’
He laughed. ‘Faith, sweetheart. I have faced greater dangers than Chelston and his cronies!’
Nick was holding her hand, his grasp warm and comforting and he was smiling at her in that reckless, devilmay-care fashion that invited her to enjoy the adventure. She swallowed.
‘Let me stay.’ She heard the words come out of her own mouth. ‘Let me stay and play my part in this.’ Suddenly she felt reckless, no longer afraid of the world. She put up her chin. ‘If you are going to get yourself killed, I want to be on hand to know of it!’
He was staring at her intently. ‘Are you sure, Evelina?’
She met his gaze steadily. The weeks since he had left Makerham had been the most miserable of her life; Grandpapa was at peace, there was nothing more to be done for him, but the idea of being more than two hundred miles away from Nick was not to be borne. Not, of course, that she cared a fig for him now, but he was her husband and she knew her duty.
‘Yes, I am sure,’ she said at last. ‘I will live at Monkhurst and be your eyes and ears there.’
His chair scraped back. He stepped around the table and pulled her up into his arms. She put her hands against his chest, holding him off, but all the while her heart was beating a rapid, heavy tattoo against her ribs, leaving her breathless. He looked down at her, his mouth tantalizingly close.
‘It could be dangerous,’ he murmured.
‘Being your wife is dangerous, Nick Wylder!’
With a laugh he bent to kiss her and it took all her willpower to turn her head away.
‘No,’ she gasped, closing her eyes as his lips feathered kisses down the line of her neck, causing her traitorous body to shiver with delight.
‘You cannot deny you want me,’ he murmured. His warm breath on her skin made her tremble, weakening her resolve.
‘No, but I—do not—trust—you.’
The butterfly kisses stopped. He raised his head. ‘Ah.’
‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered.
‘You have nothing to be sorry for, sweetheart, it is my fault.’ He cupped her chin and tilted her face up towards him. ‘And I am to blame, too, for these dark circles under your eyes.’ He ran his thumb gently across her cheekbone. ‘What a villain I am to embroil you in this.’
Angrily she knocked his hand away. ‘Yes, you are, and I shall never forgive you.’
‘Never is a long time, sweetheart.’ He grinned at her. ‘I must try to make you change your mind.’
She hunched one shoulder and turned away from him. ‘It will not work. I am wise to your charming ways now, Captain Wylder.’
He laughed softly. ‘We shall see. But for now, we must feed you.’
‘I do not think I could eat anything.’
He pushed her gently back on to her chair. ‘Oh, I think you can.’ He pulled a little piece of flesh from the chicken carcase with his fingers and held it out to her. ‘Try this. The most succulent pieces are near the bone.’
Patiently he coaxed and cajoled her, offering her tasty slivers of cheese and the most succulent pieces of meat until she put up her hands, protesting that she was full. Only then did he look to his own needs. While he dined, Eve leaned back in her chair and sipped her wine.
‘Nick? Why did you come to the Mermaid?’
‘I was meeting a sea-captain, one with more information on the black-sailed lugger.’
‘Did you see him? And did he help you?’
‘Yes, and yes. He knows the lugger; she’s called the Merle and sails out of Boulogne.’
‘Is that not where you said Chelston has his warehouse?’
‘It is. All I need now is evidence of where the smouch is being made and we can make our move.’ He looked up at her. ‘A few weeks more, my love, and all this will be over.’
Eve did not reply, but she watched him while he finished his meal. Light from the candles and the fire cast a warm golden glow over his face, enhancing the lean cheeks and strong jaw line, glinting off his ravendark hair when he moved his head. A stab of longing shot through her and she clamped her teeth into her bottom lip to prevent a sigh. She must be careful or her wayward body would betray her. At last he pushed his plate away and gave a sigh of satisfaction.
‘Our host knows how to please his guests, excellent food washed down by the finest French wines.’ He refilled their glasses.
‘And has the duty been paid on the wine?’
He grinned at her. ‘I doubt it, but I am not going to ask. Now, one more thing to finish our meal.’ He picked up an orange.
‘No, really, I have had sufficient—’
‘We will share it, then, but you will have some; it will do you good.’ His lean fingers deftly removed the peel and broke the orange into segments. He leaned forwards, holding a piece out for her. ‘Eat it,’ he said. ‘No, don’t touch it; you will get juice on your hands.’
Obediently she leaned forwards and allowed him to put the segment in her mouth. She nodded, smiling slightly. ‘It is good.’
He held out another piece and this time his fingers touched her lips; she yearned to take them in her mouth, to lick the sharp-sweet juice from his skin. It took all her willpower to pull away. Nick’s eyes were on her face, reading her thoughts, piercing her very soul. In turmoil, Eve tried desperately to think of something to say. Anything, to break the dangerous mood that had settled around them.
‘We should build a hot-house at Monkhurst. Fruit would do very well there. The gardens are sadly neglected but I have set Nathaniel and Sam to clearing the ground—’
‘Eve.’
‘We will need to employ a gardener, but Silas may know someone…’
Nick’s chair scraped back. ‘My love, you may employ as many gardeners as you wish, but we will not talk of it now.’ He pulled her to her feet and wrapped his arms around her. She kept her head down and braced herself. Her instinct was to give in, to lean against him and yield to his embrace, but she would not. She could not, for she knew only too well the heartbreak he would cause her. He cupped her chin with his hand and forced her to look up at him. When she saw his eyes darken with desire, felt his aroused body pressing hard against hers, she panicked.
‘Of course as my husband you are entitled to take your pleasure of me, but I pray you will take it speedily. I am quite worn out with travelling.’
His brows snapped together. ‘What is this? Do you think I am a monster, that I would force myself upon you?’
His hold slackened and she stepped back, turning away from him while she gathered her defences, dredged up every feeling of anger and resentment to protect herself from the attraction she felt for him.
‘You are no monster, sir, but you must understand that I have suffered a severe shock. I set out this morning thinking myself a widow, only to discover that I have been deceived.’
‘And I have explained to you why it was necessary!’
Eve spun around. ‘Oh, so that is sufficient to make everything well again! You think that you only have to smile and say you are sorry and you will be forgiven.’
‘No, of course not—’
She began to catalogue his offences, counting them off on her fingers. ‘First, you married me because you suspected my family of being involved in smuggling. The day after our wedding you disappear, then you send your man to tell me you are d-drowned. I have told you, I shall never forgive you!’ She put her hands over her face, fighting back the tears that were choking her. She longed to feel Nick’s arms around her, to hear him utter some words of comfort, but there was only silence and it seemed to stretch on forever.
‘You are quite right,’ he said at last. ‘I have behaved abominably towards you.’
She looked up. He was putting on his coat.
‘Where are you going?’
‘I must leave. I have no wish to force my attentions upon you, nor my company, if you find me so repulsive. Forgive me, Evelina.’
‘Go, then!’
No, don’t leave me! The words echoed in her head but Eve could not voice them. Nick buttoned up the old frock-coat.
‘Richard will escort you back to Monkhurst tomorrow. If you are happy to remain there it will be a comfort to me to have you so close, but it could be dangerous. You need only say the word at any time and Richard shall take you to my brother.’
‘Monkhurst is my home now. I shall stay there. What do you want me to do?’
‘Watch and wait. But you must be careful, and tell Martha she must watch her tongue, because no one else at Monkhurst knows I am alive. Send a message with Richard if you want to contact me.’
‘I will.’
Eve’s heart leapt as he took a step towards her, but he stopped just out of arm’s reach and gave her a wry, apologetic smile.
‘Do not turn me into a monster while I am away from you, sweetheart. I shall give you no cause to distrust me ever again, I swear, but I need time to prove it to you.’
‘Wait!’ She gazed at him. Phrases such as ‘do not go’ and ‘stay with me’ rattled in her head, but instead she heard herself say, ‘Should I not go on to Hastings? Granby will have told you it was my intention to visit the spot where you…died. It might look suspicious if I do not continue.’
‘As you wish.’ He smiled at her and the sight of that wickedly attractive dimple made the breath catch in her throat. ‘Aye, go to Hastings. Let the world know that someone mourns my passing!’
Nick kissed his fingers to her, turned on his heel and disappeared through the door in the panelling. Eve watched the door close behind him, felt the stillness of the room envelope her again. Then, as if released from a trap, she dashed across the room and ran her fingers over the wood, trying to find a handle or lever to open the door. There was nothing. She pressed her ear to the panel. Straining, she thought she heard his boots on the wooden stairs and the dull thud of the outer door closing behind him.
He was gone.
There was a scratching on the servants’ door and she went across to unlock it. Martha peeped in.
‘Shall I clear away now, mistress? It’s growing late and I don’t want to be traipsing through these passages once they have snuffed out the candles.’ She looked over Eve’s shoulder. ‘Where’s the master?’
‘He’s gone.’ Eve took a long breath, but she could not stop the tears spilling over. Martha put her arms about her and guided her to the bed.
‘There, there, Miss Eve. You come and sit here and tell Martha all about it.’
‘Th-there’s nothing to tell,’ sobbed Eve. ‘I—we…had a disagreement and…he l-left.’
Eve subsided into tears and Martha clucked over her like a mother hen.
‘Good heavens, Miss Eve, never say he forced himself upon you!’
‘No,’ cried Eve in a fresh flood of tears. ‘No, of course he did not, I told him to g-go and…and he d-did! Stupid, stupid man!’

Chapter Ten (#ulink_c1595c00-8ee8-5922-b0b9-d31cbcb2334e)
The journey to Hastings was accomplished with ease, the Winchelsea road having been repaired and opened again for coaches to pass through. There was no reception party waiting for her when she reached the town and the road leading down the hill to the little harbour was rutted and ill-used. As Richard Granby opened the carriage door for her to alight she glanced at him.
‘There is nothing here except fishing smacks. Tell me, Mr Granby, where are these business acquaintances that my husband was visiting?’
The valet’s impassive countenance did not alter. ‘I cannot say, madam.’
She pulled her veil down over her face. ‘Well, help me out, Granby. We must continue with this charade, although there is no one here to witness it.’
‘Oh I think you are wrong there, madam,’ muttered Granby, giving her his hand. He nodded towards a group of fishermen who were mending their nets in the shelter of an upturned boat. Eve had noticed them looking at the carriage and as she stepped down one of the men came across to her, tugging at his forelock with his gnarled fingers.
‘Beggin’ yer pardon, mistress, we sees yer coming down the road and thinks—well, seein’ yer widder’s weeds—we wonders if you be the cap’n’s widder? Cap’n Wyldfire?’
Eve looked towards Granby and, as if aware of her eyes through the thick veil, he nodded slightly. She turned back to the fisherman. ‘Yes, I am,’ she said softly. ‘Did you—did you know my husband?’
A wide, black-toothed grin split his weather-beaten face.
‘Aye, mistress, we all knew Cap’n Wyldfire. Proper sailor, he was, from the King’s navy, no less, and very generous ’e was, too, allus ready to stand buff in the Stag of an evenin’. He told us he’d come down ’ere to take out the villains what is givin’ us a bad name, sellin’ us their smouch that was no more real tea than that there seaweed.’ The grin disappeared and he shook his head. ‘It were a sad day when he drowned, mistress, an’ no mistake. We was all of us sorry to see the end o’ such a brave one.’
Eve’s heart skipped a beat. ‘Were you with him, then? You saw my husband the night he—he—’
‘Lor’ bless you mistress, ’twas my boat, the Sally-Ann, he used that night. Wanted to get close to a brig that was sailing out o’ Hastings, see?’
‘And what happened?’
‘Oh, we got close, right enough, the cap’n and some of us had already boarded the brig, being friendly-like, and pretending we was interested in taking some o’ their cargo, but the Revenue cutter came up too soon. There was only a donkey’s breath o’ mist and as soon as they spotted her they set up the cry, knowin’ as how they’d been tricked. Set upon us, they did. The cap’n was quick to sound the retreat, got us all safely back on board the Sally-Ann, but one o’ they villains, he levels his pops at the cap’n and shoots him afore he can escape. Killeddead he was. Went over the side without a murmur.’
‘And did you not try to find him, to recover the body?’
‘O’course we did, but there was no sign of him and we had to make sail, for the sea was carryin’ us towards Nore rocks. It were dulling-up by that time and with the brig bristling with guns we decided to make for the shore. The Revenue cutter did give chase, but not long enough.’ The fisherman showed his contempt for their efforts by turning his head to spit. ‘They may’ve scared ’em off for now, but they’ll be back, especially now they knows the cap’n ain’t here to gainsay ’em.’ The fisherman shook his head, and said in a reminiscent tone, ‘Aye, a great one, was Cap’n Wyldfire; allus on the gammock he was, looking for excitement or any sort o’ bobbery. We’ve been watching the beaches every day since then, missus, hopin’ his body would be washed up so we could give ’im a proper Christian burial up at All Saints. And there’s still time. We’ll keep a look-out, don’t ’ee worry.’
‘Thank you.’ Eve opened her purse and took out a handful of coins. ‘Here,’ she said, pressing them into the man’s hand. ‘When you and your crew go to the Stag tonight, I pray you drink a toast to my husband’s memory.’
Again she was treated to the black grin.
‘Well now, missus, that’s very generous of ’ee, very generous. The sort o’ thing the cap’n would approve, if you don’t mind me sayin’ so.’ He tugged his forelock once again and turned to the little group behind him. ‘Stan’ up, lads, stan’ up and pay yer respects to Wyldfire’s widow!’
He tugged his forelock yet again as Eve turned back to the carriage.
‘Back to Monkhurst, madam?’ asked Granby, holding open the door.
‘Yes, if you please. But we will stop at the church before we leave Hastings, I think.’

All Saints Church stood on the eastern edge of the town, high above the harbour and surrounded by its graveyard. As Eve climbed down from the carriage a shiver ran through her to think that this was where Nick might have been buried. The wind blew in from the coast, tugging at her bonnet and pressing the black veil to her face. She folded it back and breathed in the fresh sea air.

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