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The Greatest of Sins
Christine Merrill


GIVING IN TO TEMPTATION WOULD BE THE RUIN OF THEM ALL!Having spent years believing a lie about his birth, Dr Samuel Hastings has been condemned to a personal hell of his desire’s making – his sinful thoughts of the one woman he can never touch would damn his soul for eternity.Lady Evelyn Thorne is engaged to the very suitable Duke of St Aldric when a shocking truth is revealed – and now Sam will play every bit of the devil to seduce the woman he thought would always be denied him! The Sinner and the Saint Brothers separated at birth, brought together by scandal












‘I don’t understand,’ she whispered. She was near tears again. She swallowed hard to stop them. Crying was the lowest type of female trick. She would not give in to it with Sam, no matter how much she hurt. ‘If you love me …’


‘It is not love,’ he said with finality, cold and professional again. ‘I doubt I am even capable of the feeling. Marry St Aldric. Be safe and happy. But for God’s sake, woman, go away and leave me in peace.’

He stood and grabbed her, but it was not for another kiss. Instead he hauled her up off the floor and spun her away from him. Then he opened the door and pushed her through it and out into the hall.

The oak panel slammed behind her.

Sam looked wildly around the room, searching for the bottle that he had already packed. Rum. Stinging, harsh, and nothing like her kiss.

Nothing he had seen in his studies at land or at sea could explain the feelings coursing through him now. None of it explained the demon that possessed him, that made him want the one woman he could not have.


Don’t miss this sensational new Regency duet from Christine Merrill

THE SINNER AND THE SAINT

Brothers separated at birth, brought together by scandal

From the birth of a secret to the death of a lie, two brothers have been torn apart. While the Duke behaves like a saint, the doctor believes himself a sinner.

And only a scandal can bring them back together.

THE GREATEST OF SINSMay 2013

Look for the second in the duetComing soon




About the Author


CHRISTINE MERRILL lives on a farm in Wisconsin, USA, with her husband, two sons, and too many pets—all of whom would like her to get off the computer so they can check their e-mail. She has worked by turns in theatre costuming, where she was paid to play with period ballgowns, and as a librarian, where she spent the day surrounded by books. Writing historical romance combines her love of good stories and fancy dress with her ability to stare out of the window and make stuff up.

Previous novels by Christine Merrill:

THE INCONVENIENT DUCHESS

AN UNLADYLIKE OFFER

A WICKED LIAISON

MISS WINTHORPE’S ELOPEMENT

THE MISTLETOE WAGER

(part of A Yuletide Invitation) DANGEROUS LORD, INNOCENT GOVERNESS PAYING THE VIRGIN’S PRICE* (#ulink_5be04aa8-cda7-57f0-b843-de0ab22df971) TAKEN BY THE WICKED RAKE* (#ulink_5be04aa8-cda7-57f0-b843-de0ab22df971) MASTER OF PENLOWEN

(part of Halloween Temptations) LADY FOLBROKE’S DELICIOUS DECEPTION† (#ulink_5be04aa8-cda7-57f0-b843-de0ab22df971) LADY DRUSILLA’S ROAD TO RUIN† (#ulink_5be04aa8-cda7-57f0-b843-de0ab22df971) LADY PRISCILLA’S SHAMEFUL SECRET† (#ulink_5be04aa8-cda7-57f0-b843-de0ab22df971) A REGENCY CHRISTMAS CAROL

(part of One Snowy Regency Christmas) TWO WRONGS MAKE A MARRIAGE

* (#ulink_2901335f-2288-545f-be65-f0434fd6c856)Regency Silk & Scandal mini-series † (#ulink_8b0e9622-2e83-57cc-884d-38de4f44a678)Ladies in Disgrace trilogy

And in Mills & Boon® HistoricalUndone!eBooks:

SEDUCING A STRANGER

TAMING HER GYPSY LOVER

VIRGIN UNWRAPPED

TO UNDO A LADY

Did you know that some of these novels are also available as eBooks? Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk




AUTHOR NOTE


To give my hero Sam Hastings a chance to use a stethoscope I had to set this story after the Napoleonic war and hope that he might have picked one up from a French ship while serving in the navy. In England, such a thing would have been unheard of, and Sam’s would have been quite a novelty. While the one I give to Sam is a wooden tube, the very first one was nothing more than a rolled up piece of paper.

Rene Theophile Laënnec was the French physician who discovered that it was possible to listen to the heart through a tube. Before him, doctors would either place their ears directly on the patient’s chest or pound their backs with a hammer and listen to the resonance. In 1816 poor Rene was called to treat a buxom young lady with a heart condition. He was too embarrassed to place his ear directly on her chest, and improvised a paper tube to listen through.

And thus one of the most commonplace pieces of medical equipment was invented.




The Greatest of Sins

Christine Merrill













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




DEDICATION


To James: who is living in interesting times.




Chapter One


Sam was coming home!

They were such simple words to have such an effect upon her. Evelyn Thorne put a hand over her heart, feeling the frenzied beat of it at the thought of his name. How long had she been waiting for his return? Very nearly six years. He had gone off to Edinburgh when she was still in the schoolroom and she had been planning for this day ever since.

She had been sure that, following his education, he would come back for her. Some day, she would hear his light, running step on the boards of the front hallway. He would shout a welcome to Jenks, the butler, and make a joyful enquiry about her father. There would be an answering welcome call from the office at the head of the stairs, for certainly Father would be as eager to hear what his ward had made of himself as she was.

After the greetings were done with, things would return to the way they had been. They would sit in the parlor together and in the garden. She would force him to accompany her to balls and routs, which would all be less tedious with Sam there to talk to, to dance with and to protect from the marital ambitions of other girls.

At the end of the Season, he would return with them to the country. There, they would walk in the orchard and run down the path to the little pond to watch the birds and animals, lying on the rugs that he would carry, eating a picnic from a basket that she would pack with her own hands, not trusting the cook to reserve the choicest morsels for a man who was not ‘truly a Thorne’.

As if to reinforce the thought, Mrs Abbott cleared her throat, from the doorway behind her. ‘Lady Evelyn, would you not be more comfortable in the morning room? There is a chill in the hall. If there are guests …’

‘It would be more seemly to be found there?’ Eve completed with a sigh.

‘If his Grace were to come …’

‘But he is not the one expected, Abbott, as you know full well.’

The housekeeper gave a slight sniff of disapproval.

Evelyn turned to her, putting aside her girlish excitement. Though only one and twenty, she was mistress of the house and would be obeyed. ‘I will hear none of that, from you or any other member of the staff. Doctor Hastings is as much a member of the family as I am. Perhaps more so. Father took him from the foundling home a full three years before I was even born. He has been a part of this house since my first memory and is the only brother I shall ever have.’

Of course, it had been quite some time since she had considered Sam her brother. Without thinking, she touched her lips.

Abbott’s eyes narrowed slightly as she noticed the gesture.

For a moment, Eve considered making a diplomatic retreat to a receiving room. Her behaviour would be less obvious to the servants. But what message would it send to Sam if she made him come to her like an ordinary guest?

She bowed her head, as though she had considered the wisdom of Abbott’s suggestion and said, ‘You are right. There is a draught. If you could but bring me a shawl, I will be fine. And I shall not pace about before the window, for it will be much more comfortable on the bench beneath the stairs.’ From there, she could see the front door quite well, yet be invisible to the one who entered. Her appearance would be sudden and a pleasant surprise.

As she passed it, she glanced in the hallway mirror, straightening her hair and gown, smoothing curls and fluffing ruffles. Would Sam find her pretty, now that she had grown? The Duke of St Aldric had proclaimed her the handsomest girl at Almack’s and a diamond of the first water. But he was so easy in his compliments that she quite wondered if he was sincere. His manners would have required him to say such, once he had set his sights upon her.

In the same situation, Sam would have offered no false flattery. He might have pronounced her attractive. If she had begged for more, wishing to be called beautiful, he would have accused her of vanity and named several girls that he found prettier.

Then he would have eased the sting by reminding her that she was fair enough for the average man. He would say that, for a humble man like himself, she was like a vision from heaven. Then he would smile at her, to prove that they understood each other. And his comment would make all other suitors seem unworthy.

But he’d had no chance to make such observations, because he had not come back for her first Season. He had gone straight from university, into the navy. It had been several years since. She had spent it scouring the papers for news of his ship and taking care to become the sort of woman he might hope to find when he returned. She had crossed days off the calendar and told herself each December that, next year, the wait would be over. He would come home and she would be ready for him.

But the only contact from Sam was a terse letter to Father that had outlined his plans to take a position on the Matilda.

And he had written not a word to her since the day he had left. She had not even heard of his appointment as a ship’s surgeon until after he had set sail. There had been no chance to reason him into a safer plan. He was gone and that was that.

Three years of dragging her feet had kept her in the marriage mart. She could not possibly make a match until she had seen him again. People thought it quite odd that she had not accepted an offer already. If she refused St Aldric, she would be properly on the shelf, too high in the instep for any man. Any save one, of course.

The knock came at the door, sharp and sudden, and she started in her chair. It had not sounded the way she’d imagined it would. Although how much personality could be conveyed with a door knocker, she was not sure. All the same, it startled her.

Instead of rushing forwards to open it for him, she drew back into the little space beneath the curve of the stairs. It was cowardly of her. But the secrecy meant that she would catch the first glimpse of him without his knowing and keep the moment all to herself. She would not need to guard her expression from the servants. She could devour the sight of him, thinking of things that had nothing to do with walks in the garden and picnics by the stream.

Jenks came forwards and opened the door, his tall, straight body hiding the man on the steps. The request for entrance was firm and had a polite warmth, but it was not as impulsive or raucous as she had imagined. She had been thinking of the boy who had left, she reminded herself, not the man he had become. He would still be Sam, of course. But he was changed, just as she was.

The person who appeared in the doorway was a strange combination of novelty and familiarity. He walked with the upright gait of a military man, but was free of the scars and disabilities she had seen in so many returning officers. Of course, he had spent his time well away from the battle proper, below decks, tending to the injuries that resulted from it.

He was still blond, although the reddish highlights in his hair had gone dark, almost brown. The boyish softness had left his cheeks, replaced by a firm jaw line scraped clean of stubble. His eyes were still blue, of course, and as sharp and inquisitive as ever. They took in the hall at a glance, looking at it much the same as she was looking at him, noting changes and similarities. He completed the survey with a brief nod before enquiring if her father was at home to visitors.

The boy she remembered had had a sunny disposition, an easy smile and a hand always reaching out to help or to comfort, but the man who stood before her now, in a navy-blue coat, was sombre. One might call him grave. She supposed it was a necessity of his profession. One did not want a doctor delivering bad news with a smile upon his face. But it was more than that. Though his eyes held great compassion, they were bleak, as though he suffered along with the suffering.

She wanted to ask if his life in the navy had been as horrible as she’d imagined. Had it troubled him to see so many mangled bodies and to do so little for them? Were the successes he had won from death enough to compensate for the brutality of war? Had it really changed him so much? Or did anything remain of the boy who had left her?

Now that he was back, she wanted to ask so many things. Where had he been? What had he done there? And, most importantly, why had he left her? She had thought, as they had grown past the age of playmates, that they were likely to become something much more.

His current disposition, as he passed her hiding place and followed Jenks up the stairs, was a stark contrast to St Aldric, who always seemed to be smiling. Though the duke had many responsibilities, his face was not as careworn, or marked, as Sam’s. He greeted obstacles with optimism. But he had a right to do so. There seemed little that he could not accomplish.

In looks, she could see many similarities between the two men. Both were fair and blue eyed. But St Aldric was the taller of the two and the handsomer as well. In all things physical, he was the superior. He had more power, more money, rank and title.

And yet he was not Sam. She sighed. No amount of common sense would sway her heart from its choice. If she accepted the inevitable offer, she would be quite happy with St Aldric, but she would never love him.

But if the person one truly loved above all others was not interested, what was one to do?

Just now, he had gone straight to her father, without enquiring of Lady Evelyn’s location. Perhaps he did not care. In his silent absence, Samuel Hastings seemed to be saying that he did not remember her in the same way she did him. Perhaps he still thought of her as a childhood friend and not a young lady of marriageable age who might have formed an attachment to him.

Did he not remember the kiss? When it had happened, she had been sure of her feelings.

Apparently, he had not. After, he’d grown cold and distant. She could not believe that he was the sort of youth who would steal a kiss just to prove that he could. Had she done something to offend? Perhaps she had been too eager. Or not enthusiastic enough. But how could he have expected her to know what to do? It had been her first kiss.

It had changed everything between them. Overnight, his smile had disappeared. And, shortly thereafter, he had been gone in body as well as spirit.

Even if she had misunderstood, she would have thought that he might have written a note of farewell. Or he could have answered at least one of the letters she’d sent to him, dutifully, every week. Perhaps he had not received them. On one of his brief visits home from school, she had enquired of them. He had admitted, with a curt nod and a frozen smile, that he had read them. But he’d added nothing to indicate that the messages provided any comfort or pleasure.

It was a moot point now, of course. When one had captured the attention of a duke, who was not only powerful and rich, but handsome, polite and charming, one should not lament over a snub from a physician of no real birth.

She sighed again. All the same, it had been much on her mind of late. Even if he did not love her, Sam had been her friend. Her dearest, closest companion. She wanted his opinion of St Aldric: of the man, and of her decision. If there was any reason that he disapproved …

Of course, there could not be. He would bring no last-minute reprieve with an offer of his own. And she must remind herself that it was not exactly a march to the gallows, becoming Her Grace, the Duchess of St Aldric.

But if he did not want her, the least Dr Samuel Hastings could do was give his congratulations. And that might make it possible for her to move forwards.

‘A ship’s surgeon.’ Lord Thorne’s tone was flat with disapproval. ‘Is that not a job that can be done by a carpenter? Surely a university-trained physician could have done better.’ Sam Hastings faced his benefactor’s dark look with military posture and an emotionless stare. He could remember a time when his actions had met with nothing but approval from this man. In response, Sam had been eager to please and desperately afraid of disappointing him. But it seemed that his best efforts to abide by Thorne’s final instructions to ‘make something of yourself’ were to be met with argument and doubt.

So be it. His need to prove himself had cooled when Thorne’s affection had. ‘On the contrary, sir. On most ships, they are forced by a scarcity of skill to make do with any willing man. While they often employ the carpenter’s mate for the job, no one wants to be the man’s first patient. I am sure both captain and crew appreciated my help. I saved more limbs than I took. I gained experience with many diseases that I might never have seen had I remained ashore. There were some tropical fevers that were quite challenging. The time not spent in action was spent in study. There are many hours in the normal running of the ship that can be devoted to education.’

‘Hmmmpf.’ His guardian’s foul mood turned to resignation, when presented with reasonable opposition. ‘If you could find no other way to get sufficient experience, then I suppose it had to do.’

‘And it was quite far away,’ Sam added, subtly colouring the words. ‘When I left, you encouraged me to travel.’

‘That is true.’ Now Thorne was circumspect, which might be as close as Sam could get to approval. ‘And you have made no plans towards marriage? I encouraged you to that as well.’

‘Not as yet, sir. There was little opportunity, when so totally in the company of men. But I have ample prize money in the bank and a plan to set up practice.’

‘In London?’ Thorne said, brows furrowing.

‘In the north,’ Sam assured him. ‘I can certainly afford wife and family. I am sure there will be some woman not averse …’ He left the ending open, not wanting to lie outright. Let Thorne think what he liked. There would be no marriage, no children, no future of that sort at all.

‘Evelyn, of course, is on the cusp of a great match,’ Thorne said, as though relieved to change the subject. He smiled with obvious pride of his only daughter. For Sam’s sake, the words were delivered with an air of finality.

Sam nodded. ‘So I was given to understand by your letters. She is to marry a duke?’

Now, Thorne was beaming with satisfaction. ‘Despite his rank, St Aldric is the most magnanimous of gentlemen. He is so full of good humour and generosity that his friends have shortened the title to Saint.’

Evie had won herself a saint, had she? It was no less than she deserved. Sam had best keep as far away from her as possible. His own nature proved him to be as far from that lofty state as it was possible to be. ‘Evelyn is the most fortunate of young ladies to gain such a husband.’

‘It is a shame that you cannot stay to meet him. He is expected this afternoon.’ It was as blunt as shutting the door in his face. Being ‘like a member of the family’ was not the same as recognised kinship. Now that he was raised and settled in a trade, Thorne felt no responsibility to him at all.

‘A pity, indeed. But, of course, I cannot stay,’ Sam agreed. It was just as well. He had no real desire to meet this Saint who would marry his Evie, or remain under the Thorne roof a moment more than was necessary. ‘You will give my regards to Lady Evelyn, of course.’ He added her title carefully, to avoid any sign of familiarity.

‘Of course,’ her father said. ‘And now, I do not wish to keep you.’

‘Of course not.’ Sam managed a smile and rose, as though this brief visit had been his intent all along, and his departure had nothing to do with the abrupt dismissal. ‘I only wished to thank you, sir, and to remind you of the difference your patronage has meant to my life. A letter hardly seemed appropriate.’ Sam offered a stiff bow to the man who had claimed to be his benefactor.

Thorne got up from his desk and clapped him by the shoulder, smiling as he had of old. That such approval could only come by his leaving was another bitter reminder of how things had changed. ‘I am touched, my boy. And it is good to know that you are doing well. Will we see you, again, while you are in London? For the wedding, perhaps?’ When it was too late for him to do any harm.

‘I do not know. My plans are not yet set.’ If he could find a ship in need of his services, he would be gone with the tide. And if not? Perhaps there was some distant spot in Scotland or Ireland that had need of a physician.

‘You are welcome, of course. We will have much to celebrate. Little Eve is not so little any more. St Aldric has been quite set on the match, since the beginning of the Season, but she has yet to answer him. I have told her that it does not do to play with the affections of a duke. She will not listen.’ Thorne still smiled, as though even her disobedience was a treasure, which of course, to him, it was.

If he had continued to indulge her every whim, she had likely grown into a wilful hoyden. She would run wild without a strong man to partner her. Himself, for instance … Sam put the thought from his head. ‘She will come round in time, I am sure, sir.’ With luck, he would be gone without seeing it happen. If she had not decided, it would be disaster to hang about here and run the risk of muddying her mind with his presence.

He and Thorne went through the motions of an amicable parting as he walked towards the door of the room, but it went no further than that. They might as well have been strangers, for all the emotion expressed. There had been a time when Sam had longed for a deeper bond of affection. But now that he knew the truth of their relationship, he would as soon have never met the man. It took only a few more empty promises to keep in contact, before the interview was at an end and he was out of the office and retreating down the main stairs of the house he had once thought his home.

Only a few more feet and he would be out the front door and away. But a departure without incident was unlikely, since, as he had climbed the stairs to Thorne’s office, he had known that she waited, scant feet away.

When he had passed through on the hallway, he had taken great care not to look too closely at the place she must be concealed. He did not want to see her. It would make leaving all the more difficult.

But as he’d approached the house, a part of him had feared that she would not be there to greet him. That poor fool had wanted to search the corners for her, to hold out his arms and call out her name. He would be equally foolish to suffer if she did not come to him, or if she had already gone into the arms and the house of another. One could not bring back the past, especially when one found that the happiness there had been based on ignorance and illusion.

The door had opened and he had not seen her. Torn between fear and relief, he had been afraid to enquire after her. But then, as he had passed her hiding place, he had smelled her perfume.

That was not wholly accurate. He could smell a woman’s scent in the air of the hall, fresh and growing stronger as he neared the alcove at the curve of the stairs. He could not be sure it was her. The girl he had left had smelled of lemon soap and the mildest lavender eau de toilette. This new perfume was redolent of India, mysterious, sharp and sophisticated.

He should have simply turned and acknowledged her. He’d have caught her hiding at the base of the stairs, for he was sure that was what she had been doing, just as she had done when they were children. He could have pretended that nothing was amiss and greeted her easily, as an old friend ought. They could have exchanged pleasantries. Then he could have wished her well and they’d have parted again after a few words.

But the fragrance had been an intoxicant to him and he would have needed all his wits for even a few words of greeting. If he could not master himself, there was no telling what his first words would have been. So he had taken the coward’s way, pretending that he was unaware of her presence and hoping that she would have given up in the hour of the interview and gone back to the morning room, or wherever it was that she spent her days.

He could not imagine his Evie, sitting like a lady on a divan or at a writing desk, prepared to offer a gracious but chilly welcome and banal conversation. He had spent too many years brooding on the memory of how she had been, not wanting her to change. He could picture her in the garden, running, climbing and sitting on the low tree branches he had helped her to, when no one had been there to stop them.

Yet she would have put that behaviour aside, just as she had the eau de toilet. She had grown up. She was to be a duchess. The girl he remembered was gone, replaced by a ton-weary flirt with poise enough to keep a duke dangling. Once he had met that stranger, perhaps he could finally be free of her and have some peace.

Then, as he reached the bottom step, she pelted out from hiding and into him, body to body, her arms around his neck, and called, ‘Tag.’ Her lips were on his cheeks, first one, then the other, in a pair of sisterly but forceful kisses.

He froze, body and mind stunned to immobility. With preparation, he had controlled his first reaction to her nearness. But this sudden and complete contact was simply too much. His arms had come halfway up to hug her before he’d managed to stop them and now they poked stiffly out at the elbows, afraid to touch her, unable to show any answering response. ‘Evie,’ he managed in a tone as stiff as his posture. ‘Have you learned no decorum at all in six years?’

‘Not a whit, Sam,’ she said, with a laugh. ‘You did not think to escape me so easily, did you?’

‘Of course not.’ Hadn’t he tried, going nearly to the ends of the earth to do so? If that had been a failure, what was he to do now? ‘I’d have greeted you properly, had you given me the chance,’ he lied. He reached up and pried her arms from his neck, stepping away from her.

She gave him a dour frown, meant to be an imitation of his own expression, he was sure. Then she laughed again. ‘Because we must always be proper, mustn’t we, Dr Hastings?’

He took another step back to dodge the second embrace that he knew was coming, taking her hands to avoid the feeling of her body wriggling eagerly against his. ‘We are no longer children, Evelyn.’

‘I should hope not.’ She gave him a look that proved she was quite aware that she, at least, had grown into a desirable young woman. ‘I have been out for three Seasons.’

‘And kept half the men in London dangling from your reticule strings, I don’t doubt.’ Lud, but she was pretty enough to do it. Hair as straight and smooth as spun gold, eyes as blue as the first flowers of spring and lips that made his mouth water to taste them. And he might have known the contours of her body, had he taken the opportunity to touch it as she’d kissed him.

The thought nearly brought him to his knees.

She shrugged as if it did not matter to her what other men thought and gave him the sort of look, with lowered lashes and slanted eyes, that told a man that the woman before him cared only about him. ‘And what is your diagnosis, Doctor, now that you have had a chance to examine me?’

‘You look well,’ he said, cursing the inadequacy of the words.

She pouted and the temptress dissolved into his old friend, swinging her arms as though inviting him to play. ‘If that is all I shall have out of you, I am most disappointed, sir. I have been told by other men that I am quite the prettiest girl of the Season.’

‘And that is why St Aldric has offered for you,’ he said, reminding them both of how much had changed.

She frowned, but did not let go of his hands. ‘As yet, I have not accepted any offers.’

‘Your father told me that, just now. He said you are keeping the poor fellow on tenterhooks waiting for an answer. It is most unfair of you, Evelyn.’

‘It is most unfair of Father to pressure me on the subject,’ she replied, avoiding the issue. ‘And even worse, it is unscientific of you to express an opinion based on so little evidence.’ She smiled again. ‘I would much rather you tell me what you think of my marrying, after we have had some time together.’

‘I stand by my earlier conclusion,’ he said. It made him sound like one of those pompous asses who would rather stick to a bad diagnosis than admit the possibility of error. ‘Congratulations are in order. Your father says St Aldric is a fine man and I have no reason to doubt it.’

She gave him a dark, rather vague look, and then smiled. ‘How nice to know that you and my father are in agreement on the subject of my future happiness. Since you are dead set in seeing me married, I assume you have come prepared?’

He had fallen into a trap of some kind, he was sure. And here was one more proof that this was not the transparent child he had left, who could not keep a secret. Before him was a woman, clearly angry at his misstep, but unwilling to tell him what he had said, or how he was to make amends. ‘Prepared?’ he said, cautiously, looking for some hint in her reaction.

‘To celebrate my imminent engagement,’ she finished, still waiting. She then gave an exasperated sigh to show him that he was hopeless. ‘By giving me some token to commemorate the event.’

‘A gift?’ Her audacity startled a smile from him and a momentary loss of control.

‘My gift,’ she said, firmly. ‘You cannot have been away so long, missed birthdays and Christmases and a possible engagement, and brought me nothing. Must I search your pockets to find it?’

He thought of her hands, moving familiarly over his body, and said hurriedly, ‘Of course not. I have it here, of course.’

He had nothing. There had been the gold chain that he’d bought for her in Minorca and then could not raise the nerve to send. He had carried it about in his pocket for a year, imagining the way it would look against the skin of her throat. Then he’d realised that it was only making the memories more vivid, more graphic, and had thrown it into the bay.

‘Well?’ She had noticed his moment of confusion and was tugging upon his lapel, an eager child again.

He thrust a hand into his pocket and brought out the first thing he found, an inlaid wood case that held a small brass spyglass. ‘This. I had it with me, very nearly the whole time. At sea they are dead useful. I thought, perhaps, you could use it in the country. Watching birds.’

Any other woman in London would have thrust the thing back at him in disgust, pointing out that he had not even taken the time to polish the barrel.

But not his Evie. When she opened the box, her face lit as though he had handed her a casket of jewels. Then she pulled out the glass, gave it a hurried wipe against her skirt to shine it and extended it and put it to her eye. ‘Oh, Sam. It is wonderful.’ She pulled him to the nearest window and peered out through it, looking as she always had, into the distance, as though she could see the future. ‘The people on the other side of the square are as clear as if I was standing beside them.’ She took it away from her face and grinned at him. The expression was so like the way he remembered her that his heart hurt. She was standing beside him again, so close that an accidental touch was inevitable. He withdrew quickly, ignoring the flood of memories that her nearness brought.

She seemed unmoved by his discomfort, sighing in pleasure at her improved vision. ‘I will take it to the country, of course. And to Hyde Park and the opera.’

He laughed. ‘If you actually need a glass in town, I will buy you a lorgnette. With such a monstrous thing pressed to your eye, you will look like a privateer.’

She let out a derisive puff of air. ‘What do I care what people think? It will be so much easier to see the stage.’ She gave a sly grin. ‘And I will be able to spy on the other members of the audience. That is the real reason we all go to the theatre. Nothing in London shall escape me. I share the gossip the next day and show them my telescope. In a week, all the smart girls will have them.’

‘Wicked creature.’ Without thinking, he reached up and tugged on one honey-coloured lock. She had not changed a bit in his absence, still fresh faced, curious and so alive that he could feel her vitality coursing in the air around them.

‘Let us go and watch something.’ She took his hand, her fingers twining with his, pulling him back into the house and towards the doors that led to the garden that had been their haven.

And he was lost.




Chapter Two


He ought to have known better. Before coming, Sam had steeled himself against temptation with prayer. His plan had been to resist all contact with her. Just moments before, he had assured her father that he would be gone. And yet, at the first touch of her hand, he had forgotten it all and followed her through the house like a puppy on a lead.

Now he sat at her side on a little stone bench under the elm as she experimented with her new toy. It was just like hundreds of other happy afternoons spent here and it reminded him of how much he missed home, and how much a part of that home she was.

Evie held the spyglass firmly pointed into the nearest tree. ‘There is a nest. And three young ones all open mouthed and waiting to be fed. Oh, Sam, it is wonderful.’

It was indeed. He could see the flush of pleasure on her cheek and the way it curved down into the familiar dimple of her smile. So excited, and over such a small thing as a nest of birds. But had she not always been just so? Joy personified and a tonic to a weary soul.

‘You can adjust it, just by turning here.’ He reached out and, for a moment, his hand covered hers. The shock of connection was as strong as ever. It made him wonder—did she still feel it as well? If so, she was as good at dissembling as he, for she gave no response.

‘That is ever so much better. I can make out individual feathers.’ She looked away from the birds, smiling at him, full of mischief. ‘I clearly made the best bargain out of your empty pockets today, sir.’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘If you had reached in and pulled out a snuff box, I’d have had a hard time developing the habit of taking it. But a telescope is very much to my liking.’

‘Was it so obvious that I did not bring you anything?’ he asked, sighing.

‘The look of alarm on your face was profound,’ she admitted and snapped the little cylinder shut to put it back into its case. ‘But do not think that you can get this away from me by distracting me with a necklace. It is mine now and I shan’t return it.’

‘Nor would I expect you to.’ He smiled back at her and felt the easy familiarity washing over him in a comfortable silence. With six years, thousands of miles travelled and both of them grown, none of the important things had changed between them. She was still his soul’s mate. At least he could claim it was more than lust that he felt for her.

She broke the silence. ‘Tell me about your travels.’

‘There is not enough time to tell you all the things I have seen,’ he said. But now that she had asked, the temptation to try was great and the words rushed out of him. ‘Birds and plants that are nothing like you find in England. And the look of the ocean, wild or becalmed, or the sky before a storm, when there is no land in sight? The best word I can find for it is majesty. Sea and heaven stretching as far as the eye can see in all directions and us just a spot in the middle.’

‘I should very much like to see that,’ she said wistfully.

He imagined her, at his side, lying on the deck to look at the stars. And then he put the dream carefully away. ‘Wonderful though some times were, I would not have wished them on you if it meant you saw the rest. A ship of the line is no place for a woman.’

‘Was naval life really so harsh?’

‘During battle, there was much for me to do,’ he admitted evasively, not wanting to share the worst of it.

‘But you helped the men,’ she said, her face shining when she said it, as though there was something heroic about simply doing his job. ‘And that was what you always wanted to do. I am sure it was most gratifying.’

‘True,’ he agreed. He had felt useful. And it had been a relief to find a place where he seemed to fit, after so much doubt.

‘If it made you happy, then I should like to have seen that as well,’ she said firmly.

‘Most certainly not!’ He did not want to think of her, mixed in with the blood and death. Nor did he want to lose her admiration, when she saw him helpless in the face of things that had no cure.

She gave him a pained look. ‘Have you forgotten so much? Was it not I who encouraged you in your medical studies? I watched you tend every injured animal you found and dissect the failures. I swear, you did not so much eat in those days as study the anatomy of the chops.’

‘I could just as easily have become butcher, for all I learned there,’ he admitted. ‘But working over a person is quite a different thing.’ Sometimes, it was its own form of butchery.

‘You learned human anatomy in Edinburgh,’ she said. ‘Through dissection.’

He suppressed a smile and nodded. Evie was as fearless as she had always been, and no less grisly, despite her refined appearance.

‘You did many other things as well, I’m sure.’

‘I observed,’ he corrected. ‘It was not until I left school that I could put the skills to use. Now I am thinking of returning to Scotland,’ he said, to remind them both that he could not stay. ‘I still have many friends at the university. Perhaps I might lecture.’

She shook her head. ‘That is too far away.’

That was why he had suggested it. She was clinging to his sleeve again, as though she could not bear to have him taken from her. He considered detaching her fingers, but it was very near to having her touch his hand, so he left them remain as they were. ‘You will be far too busy with your new life to waste time upon me. I doubt you will miss me at all.’

‘You know that is not true. Did I not write you often in the last years? Nearly every week, yet you never answered.’ Her voice grew quiet and, in it, he could hear the hurt he had caused her.

‘Probably because I did not receive your letters,’ he said, as though it had not mattered to him. ‘The mail is a precarious thing, when one is at sea.’ He had received it often enough. And he had cherished it. In the years they’d been apart, her correspondence had grown from a neat ribbon-bound stack to a small chest, packed tightly with well-thumbed missives, so familiar to him that he could recite their contents from memory.

‘You had no such excuse at university,’ she reminded him. ‘I wrote then as well. But you did not answer those letters, either. It rather appeared to me that you had forgotten me.’

‘Never,’ he said fervently. That, at least, was the truth.

‘Well, I will not allow it to happen again. Edinburgh is too far. You must stay close. And if you must teach, then teach me.’

He laughed, to cover the shock. It was not possible, for so many reasons. While he was not totally unwilling to share the information, he did not dare. She was a grown woman and not some curious girl. Discussing the intimate details of the human body would be difficult with any female. But with Evie, it would be impossible.

And if she was to marry, their circles would be so different that even casual conversation would be infrequent. Next to a duke, he would be little better than a tradesman.

‘You know that is not proper,’ he said at last. ‘Your father would not allow it. Nor would your husband.’ They both must remember that there would be another man standing between them.

And more than that.

He was forgetting himself again—and forgetting the reason he had to stay away. They could not be friends any more than they could be lovers. He had spent years away from her, known other women and prayed for a return to common sense. Nothing had dulled his feelings for her. The desire was just as strong and the almost palpable need to rush to her, catch her in his arms and hold her until the world steadied again. If she married, it would be no different. He would still want her. He would simply add the sin of adultery to an already formidable list.

He patted her hand in a way that showed a proper, brotherly affection. ‘No, Evie. I cannot allow you to spin wild plans, as you did when we were children. I must go back to my life and you to yours.’

‘But you are staying in London for a time, aren’t you?’ she said, looking up at him with the bluest of eyes, full of a melting hope.

‘I had not planned to.’ Why could he not manage a firmer tone? He’d made it seem like he might be open to persuasion.

‘You must stay for the engagement ball. And the ceremony.’

As if that would not be the most exquisite torture. ‘I do not know if that is possible.’

Her hand twisted, so that her fingers tightened on his. ‘I will not allow you to go. Even if I must restrain you by force.’ She should know that she had not the strength to do so. But she had tried it often enough, when they were young, tackling him and trying to wrestle him to the ground in a most unladylike fashion.

The idea that she might attempt it again sounded in his mind like an alarm bell.

‘Very well,’ he said with a sigh, if only to make her release his hand. ‘But I expect I will leave soon after. Perhaps, instead of Scotland, I shall return to sea.’

‘You mustn’t,’ she said, gripping him even more tightly before remembering herself and relaxing her hold. ‘It takes you too far away from me for too long. And although you did not speak of it, I am sure it must have been very dangerous. I would not have you put yourself at risk, again.’

It had been quite dangerous. He was sure that he could tell her stories for hours that would have her in awe. Instead, he said, ‘Not really. It was a job. Nothing more than that. Unlike St Aldric, I must have employment if I am to live.’ The words made him sound petulant. He should not be envious of a man that had been born to a rank he could never achieve.

She ignored the censure of the duke, which had been childish of him. ‘You must have a practice on land. I will speak to father about it. Or St Aldric.’

‘Certainly not! I am quite capable of finding my own position, thank you.’ In any other life, an offer of patronage from a future duchess would have been just the thing he needed. But not this woman. Never her.

‘You value your independence more than our friendship,’ she said, and released his hand. ‘Very well, then. If there is nothing I can say that will change your mind, I will bother you no further on the subject of your career.’

There was one thing, of course. Three words from her would have him on his knees, ready to do anything she might ask.

And since they were the three words neither of them must ever speak, he would go to Edinburgh or the ends of the earth, so that he might never hear them.




Chapter Three


There was really nothing more to say. She had all but dismissed him, with her promise not to meddle in his affairs. Yet Sam was loathe to take leave of her. When would he get another such chance just to sit at her side, as they always used to? She was examining the box that held the spyglass, as though it were the answer to some mystery.

And he was watching her hands caress it. Had they been so graceful when last he’d seen them? He could remember stubby fingers and ragged nails from too much time running wild with him. Today, she had not bothered with gloves and he could see the elegant taper of each digit that rested on the wood. He could sit there happily, staring at those hands for the rest of his life.

‘This is where I find you? In the garden, flirting with another. I swear, Evelyn, you are harder to catch than a wild hare. I cannot leave you alone for a moment or you shall get away from me.’

The words came from behind them and Sam flinched as he guessed the identity of the intruder. The voice marked the end of any privacy they might have this afternoon. Or possibly for ever, assuming the duke had any brains. If Sam had been Evie’s intended, he would never have allowed another man near her. He rose and turned to greet his newfound enemy face to face.

If Sam had been called to give a professional opinion on the man approaching them, he’d have proclaimed him one of the healthiest he had ever seen. Under his expensive clothing, St Aldric’s form was symmetrical. There was not an ounce of fat and no sign that the perfection was achieved with padding or cinching. His limbs and spine were straight, his muscles well developed—skin, eyes, teeth and hair all clean, clear and shining with vigor. Likewise there were no wrinkles on his brow, of age or care, and no evidence in expression of anything but good humour. His gaze was benevolent intelligence, his step firm and confident. If Sam had been forced to express an opinion of another man’s looks, he’d have called this one exceptionally handsome. From the toe of his boot to the top of his head, the fellow was the perfection of English manhood.

It made Sam even more conscious of how he must look in comparison. Lord Thorne might think him a threat to Evie’s happiness. But with his worn blue coat, thin purse and modest future, a duke would hardly notice him. Unless Evelyn had grown to be as foolish as she was beautiful, she would have no trouble choosing the better man.

As if to prove his point, Evie rose as well and held out her hands to the duke. She smiled warmly and greeted him with genuine affection. ‘St Aldric.’

‘My dear.’ He took her hands and held them for a moment, and Sam felt the uncomfortable pricking of jealousy and the punishment of being forgotten. She was pulling the other man forwards by the hand, just as she had lured Sam to the garden to sit beside her. It was yet another proof that the communion he had felt between them was nothing more than the warmth she showed all living things.

Now she was smiling back at him with proper, sisterly pride. ‘I have waited long to introduce the two of you and now I have my opportunity. Your Grace, may I present Dr Samuel Hastings.’

‘The one of whom you speak so fondly. And so often.’ There was a fractional pause between the two sentences, as if to indicate jealousy, or perhaps envy of the attention she paid to him.

‘Your Grace?’ Sam bowed, giving a peer the required respect.

The duke was watching him in silence and Sam was sure, if they had shared something as egalitarian as a handshake, it would have become a test of strength. In it, St Aldric would have felt the roughness of the calluses on his hands made by a firm grip on a bone saw, then he would have been dismissed as not quite a gentleman.

‘Doctor Hastings.’ But it had not taken something so common as physical contact to do that. The less-than-noble honorific had been enough. The duke’s frosty demeanour thawed into a handsome smile, now that he had assured himself of Sam’s inferiority. Then St Aldric gave Evie another fond smile. ‘I have been quite looking forwards to meeting this paragon you have been describing to me. I swear your face fairly lights up when you speak of him.’

‘Because he is my oldest and dearest friend,’ Evie said dutifully. ‘We were raised together.’

As brother and sister. Why would she never say it? It would make life so much easier if she would understand the significance of that.

‘We spent very little time apart until he went to university,’ she added.

‘To be a leech,’ the duke replied blandly. It made Sam feel like a parasite.

‘A physician,’ Evie corrected, protective of his dignity. ‘He was ever so clever when we took lessons together. Good at maths and languages, and fascinated by the workings of the body and all things natural. Sam is a born philosopher. I am sure he is most wonderful at his job.’

‘And you have not seen him in all these years,’ the duke reminded her. ‘I shall try not to be too jealous of your obvious affection for him.’ Then he stated the obvious, so that there might be no confusion. ‘If Dr Hastings has not come back to sweep you up before now, the man has quite missed his chance.’

‘I suppose he has,’ Evie answered. She sounded unconcerned, but Sam suspected the words were a goad to action.

‘Suppose?’ St Aldric laughed again, willing to pretend that she had been joking. ‘That is not nearly as confident as I wish you to be. Do you expect us to duel for you? I will call him out and we will see who is the better.’ This too was more joke than threat.

‘Do not talk nonsense,’ Evie said hurriedly. ‘I would think you both very foolish if you fought over me.’

‘If it displeases you, then I shall not attempt it. He is a military man, after all. It would be even worse should Dr Hastings prove skilled enough to defeat me with a pistol.’ The duke smiled at Sam, as though inviting him to join in the fun and prove that he had no feelings for her. ‘With my luck, I would end with a ball in my shoulder that would have to be removed by the man who put it there. He would be doubly the hero and I would lose you twice as fast.’

‘You have nothing to fear,’ Evie repeated.

‘Nor do you,’ St Aldric reminded her softly and kissed her on the forehead.

There was no passion in it. It was delivered almost as a benediction. But Sam saw it for what it was. Even if there had been no public announcement, the woman between them was spoken for. In response, Sam gave St Aldric the slightest nod to prove that the message was understood.

Evelyn paid no more attention to the kiss than she would have to any other salute. But she was staring at the duke with the same teasing affection that she had shown to Sam only moments before. ‘I see you have arrived empty handed again.’

Rather than chide her for her greediness, St Aldric laughed as though this was another old joke between them. ‘I know you better than that, my dear. You would send me packing if I came without some sort of gift.’

Once again, Sam cursed himself for not being able to say those words to her himself. But it might ease his jealousy if St Aldric proved to be as shallow as Sam hoped, and gave her something that did not suit her.

It appeared that was not to be the case. The bulging pocket of his coat trembled slightly, though the duke did not move.

‘What is it?’ Evie said, eyeing the lump with curiosity. ‘Give it to me this instant. It does not appear to be very happy where it is.’

‘And that is why I brought it to you. I am sure it will be much happier, in your care.’ He reached two fingers into the coat and withdrew a sniffling ginger kitten, placing it gently in Evie’s lap.

‘Oh, Michael.’ Instantly captivated, she set Sam’s spyglass aside and scooped the little thing up so that she could look at it, eye to eye. It blinked back at her, before letting out a nervous mew and settling down into the hollow of her hand. She stroked its head and nuzzled it to her cheek, smiling. ‘It is too perfect.’

And Sam had to admit it was. Like the telescope, it held her attention in a way that a necklace never could. But unlike Sam’s desperate good luck in finding something suitable already in his pocket, St Aldric had learned her preferences and planned in advance for this surprise.

She rewarded him with a smile so warm that Sam could swear he saw the duke colour with humble pleasure. It was sickening. Could not this interloper have behaved like the peer he was, pompous and demanding, blustering into this sacred space and defiling it so that Sam might hate him in good conscience? Could he have been a slightly less imposing physical specimen, with the beginnings of a paunch, or some spot or blemish?

Instead, he continued to be perfect. And he was looking down at Evie and the kitten as though he had never seen a lovelier sight.

‘What shall I call you, little one?’ She held it up again, staring into the grave green eyes. ‘Something to suit your nature, for I am sure you shall be a great hunter, when you are old enough. Orion, perhaps.’

St Aldric cleared his throat. ‘I should rather think Diana would be more appropriate.’

He was educated as well? A cursory knowledge of mythology and feline anatomy was not an indication of genius. But at least it proved that he was not some inbred dolt.

Evie turned the kitten in her hands and gave the underside a second look. ‘I think you are right.’ Then she turned it right way up and kissed it upon the head by way of a christening. ‘Diana it is. And you shall have the run of the garden, a bowl of cream and, when you have lost your milk teeth, you shall have all the mice you can eat.’

‘You will spoil it horribly,’ Sam said, trying to be the gruff and grumbling older brother.

Evie gave him a disgusted look. ‘It is not possible to spoil a thing by giving it too much affection. If I coddle her a bit, I am sure she will only become more devoted and do her job better. You could learn by that and not neglect your family for years at a time.’ Then she smiled again at the kitten and the man who had given it to her.

It was like watching her hold out a gift of her own and then turn and give it to someone else. She was punishing him, deliberately favouring the duke. And though he was filled with the jealousy she wished for, he could do nothing to show it. He should not have come here. If her smiles were all for St Aldric, that was as it should be. There was no place for him any more.

And much as Sam might have wished to find fault with his rival, he could not. He was worthy of Evie. Evie was obviously fond of him. He had but to step out of the way and let nature take its course. These two would be married by summer’s end.

All the more reason not to be trapped in the garden with the happy couple and sick to his stomach at the sight of love in bloom. He prayed for an excuse that might allow him to escape.

‘Evelyn!’ Lord Thorne called from the house, hurrying out to be with them. At any other time, Sam would have thought an interruption of his foster father as a sign that the situation had gone from bad to worse. But today it was a welcome relief.

‘You have found her, then, your Grace?’ Thorne gave a self-deprecating laugh and answered his own question. ‘Of course you have. She was not lost, after all. And Sam?’ His eyes widened with surprise that was actually annoyance. ‘You are still with us? As I recall, you said you would be leaving.’

‘I had other plans for him,’ Evelyn said triumphantly. ‘He tried to get away without so much as a hello. But I stopped him.’

‘I am sure he could have escaped you, had he but tried.’ Another warning from Thorne to mind his place. Sam could feel his normally placid temper stretch to a breaking point. He had a mind to tell the man aloud that he would leave immediately, if only to put an end to these continual reminders of his obvious inferiority.

‘And he is staying at an inn, and not with us, as he should. It is truly horrible of him. I will not stand for it,’ Evie added, in the same playful scolding tone she had been using on St Aldric.

‘If the good doctor wishes to stay at an inn, it is not our place to correct him,’ Thorne answered, putting the blame on Sam.

‘Of course it is,’ Evie said, unbothered. ‘We are his family. I will allow nothing less than his sending for his baggage and moving back to his old room for the duration of his stay in London. I will have the space aired and made up for him immediately.’ She rose and set the kitten on the bench, twining her arm with her father’s. Though she might be his affectionate and loving daughter, she had a will of iron and was used to getting her way. If Sam did not go soon, she would work on Thorne without mercy until he gave her what she wanted. ‘Come along, Papa, and add your voice to mine. I am sure Mrs Abbott will be quite cross with me for the sudden change in plans.’ She was fairly dragging her father by the arm and back towards the house, lecturing him on hospitality while she was neglecting both her guests.

She tossed a smile in their direction, as though that would be more than enough to keep them, until she returned. ‘If you gentlemen would spare our company? You must know each other better.’

‘Of course,’ St Aldric said, speaking for both of them. ‘I am sure that Dr Hastings can entertain me in your absence.’

‘I will leave Diana with you as well,’ Evie said, as though she was not sure that Sam’s company would suffice on its own. Then she fixed him with a cool stare. ‘And do not move from this spot, Samuel Hastings, without taking leave of me. I still have not forgiven you for the last time you did.’

Nor had he forgiven himself. This time, he owed her a goodbye, if nothing else. He gave a grudging nod of agreement and she returned to take her father’s arm. ‘Do not fear. I will not be long.’




Chapter Four


‘What is the meaning of this rudeness, Evelyn? You left St Aldric alone, when he came specifically to see you.’ At her side, Evelyn could feel her father puffing in indignation like a tropical fish.

She smiled at him and added a loving hug and a doting look, ashamed of herself for this blatant manipulation. She had been taught by Aunt Jordan that a lady must use honey to catch flies. But sometimes she could not help but envy men their ability to catch flies with a reasonable argument. ‘I did not leave St Aldric alone, Father. Sam was there.’

‘That hardly signifies.’ His grumbling was a last desperate attempt to rein her in. But since he had not been successful in twenty-one years, she had no real fear of punishment.

‘I believe it does,’ she said, quietly, still smiling, but renewing her grip on his arm and leading him down the hall to the library, shutting the door behind them so that there was no chance for a servant to hear what she wished to say. Then she checked the window that looked out on the garden to be sure that it was closed. No word of their conversation must reach the men talking there until she had confirmed her suspicions.

‘A physician and a duke?’ Father was shaking his head like a dog worrying a bone. ‘The only reason that the two of them should speak is if the peer is ill, and you know for a fact that he is not. Unless … You have no fears, have you?’ As usual, her father was thinking ahead to a future that she had not yet agreed to.

‘Are you worried about my widowhood before I am even a bride?’ she said with a raised eyebrow. ‘It is nothing like that. St Aldric is perfectly healthy, as is obvious to all who see him. But Sam is a member of the family. I think it is important that the two get to know each other. Don’t you?’ She looked expectantly at her father, hoping that he would not force her to badger the truth from him.

‘If you assume that Hastings will play a part in your future, you harbour a misapprehension. We have discussed it and he is leaving London shortly. I doubt you will see him again.’

The finality of this statement was in direct opposition to her desires, so she ignored it. ‘Hastings?’ she chided. ‘Really, Father. Now you are the one who is being rude. When did you cease to think of him as Sam? And for what reason? If there is some breach between the two of you, then I beg you to heal it, for my sake.’

‘There is no breach,’ her father insisted, probably afraid that she would resort to tears. ‘But we have an understanding, he and I. And what has been done is all for your sake, I assure you.’

As if she needed protection from Sam. The idea was quite ridiculous and not worth mentioning. ‘I am more concerned with Sam and his future, Father. So should you be.’

‘He is seeing to that well enough, without my help,’ her father said. Perhaps he was simply hurt that the boy he had raised could manage to prosper without him.

‘His success is a credit to your early tutelage, I am sure.’ She must turn the topic, for she wished to close the breach and not widen it. Her father appeared somewhat mollified at the thought that he had contributed to Sam’s obvious success. ‘And I see no reason that he cannot stay here with us, while he is in London.’

‘He does not wish to,’ her father said, firmly.

‘I am happy to see that you have no objection,’ she said with another smile. One thing did not imply the other. But it was better to let him think her illogical than to allow argument. Then she added, as though in afterthought, ‘Once he is here, it will give you a chance to tell him what you know of his true parentage.’

‘I?’ That had caught him unawares, she was sure. He was flustered out of countenance and almost beyond speech. It took several seconds for him to manage a proper denial. ‘I know nothing. And whatever Samuel Hastings has told you on the subject is clearly a lie.’

‘He … told me?’ She gave a bat of her lashes to reinforce the innocence of her discovery. ‘He did not tell me anything. But I needed no great wit to draw my conclusion. I have my own eyes, if I wish to see the truth. You had best give him the whole story, if you have not already.’

‘I have no idea what you mean,’ said her father, in the slow and deliberate way that people sometimes used to deny the obvious.

Eve sighed and gave up on honey, preferring to catch this particular fly with a swatter. ‘Then I will explain it to you. I have had suspicions for quite some time. But it was only until just now, in the garden, that I was sure. When they are seen together by others, someone will remark on the resemblance between them. From there it is only a short step to seeing that the Duke of St Aldric and Dr Samuel Hastings are as alike as brothers.’

‘Evie, you mustn’t meddle in this.’ It was the same weak prohibition that he tried whenever she stepped out of bounds.

Since she knew there were no consequences to disagreeing, it would meet with the same lack of success. She continued. ‘You were a good friend of the old duke when he was alive, were you not?’

‘Of course, but …’

‘And mightn’t he have asked you a favour, at one point in your life, when you and mother feared that you would be childless?’ In case she had been too direct, she larded the question with more feminine sweetness. ‘I only ask because I know there will be gossip.’

‘There will be none if Hastings leaves, as he is promised to,’ her father said stubbornly. He had not affirmed or denied her theory. But evasiveness was an answer.

‘It is hardly fair to Sam, if you make him leave London just because of the duke.’ Nor was it fair to her. She would not lose him again, over something that should not matter to anyone. ‘If the estrangement between you is nothing more than a fear of making this revelation, you had best get it over with. Since I love both men, I mean to keep them close to me for as long as I am able.’ She smiled again and offered a bait that she doubted her father could resist. ‘I am sure that St Aldric would welcome the news. He has spoken frequently of the burden of being the only remaining member of his family. You would gain much favour by telling him what he longs to hear.’

‘Revelation of a natural son …’ her father stopped himself before revealing the truth ‘… if there were such, would do nothing to change his status as the last of the line.’

‘It would change the contents of his heart,’ Eve argued. ‘I know his spirit; it is generous to a fault. He would want to share his wealth with his father’s son. And it would at least make him cease his jokes about duels between them. Imagine his reaction, should they fight for some reason, and not learn the truth until after one of them had been injured.’

‘For some reason?’ She had pushed too far. Her father had spotted the hole in her argument and made his escape. ‘Really, Evelyn. Do not play the naïf. You know perfectly well that they would be fighting over your attentions. If an accident occurs, it will be your fault and not mine. You must send Hastings away. I have assured myself that the man is too sensible to harbour false hope on a match between you. And neither should you.’

‘I am not offering false hope.’ There was nothing false about it. After the time spent in the garden, the hope she felt was quite real. As was her conviction about the identity of Sam’s father. ‘I am simply attempting to right a wrong, before it goes further. It pains both men and does no credit to you.’

‘You are meddling in things you cannot understand,’ he said, patting her on the hand and treating her like the child he still believed she was. ‘If this is the reason you were impolite to St Aldric, then I am sorry to disappoint you. I have nothing to say on the matter, because there is nothing to say.’

Had she failed to persuade him? This happened so rarely that, for a moment, she suspected she might have been wrong. Perhaps there was no secret to reveal. ‘Father …’

‘Go!’ He pointed a finger back towards the garden, once again secure in his control of the situation. ‘Send Dr Hastings on his way before the duke tires of his company. Visit with St Aldric, as he desires. I have no intention of helping you out of the muddle you are making. This discussion is at an end and will not be repeated. Now, go.’ Her father’s lips were set in a firm line, as if to show her that no more words would pass between them until she had fulfilled her obligation to him, to society and to the duke.

But he was giving no thought to Sam’s needs. If he would not, then someone must, or he would be back on a boat and out of her life for ever. ‘Very well, then. I will talk to St Aldric. But you are wrong about the rest, Father. We will speak of this again and, next time, you will tell the truth.’ She would worry him with it night and day, if necessary. But she would have her way, and Sam would know his brother.

In Evelyn’s absence, an awkward silence had fallen between the two men. It was hardly surprising. Sam seldom had cause to speak to a man of such great rank and no right to initiate conversation. The duke had no reason to speak to him. It left the pair of them staring morosely at the kitten on the bench until the thing stumbled to the edge and off, wandering into the grass to stalk and pounce on crickets.

Now there was not even an excuse for the silence. It seemed that St Aldric was not content with this, for he was searching about him as though expecting to see an opening to a conversation. At last he offered, ‘Evelyn says you were educated in Scotland, and after you took to the sea.’

‘Indeed, your Grace.’ Sam shifted uneasily, clasping his hands behind his back.

‘The navy is an unusual choice for such a well-educated man. But I cannot fault your adventurous spirit.’

Sam was tempted to announce that he had not requested an opinion, but he had only one reason to dislike this man and no reason at all to be rude to him. Excessive fondness for Evie was no excuse for a lack of respect to the peerage. ‘The navy is an economical way to see the world,’ Sam admitted. ‘The prize money from ships taken was sufficient to make up for the lack of a medical practice.’ It would be nothing to the holdings of a duke, but it had been more than satisfactory for Sam.

The duke nodded approval. ‘The captain of the Matilda was ambitious.’

It was the truth, but St Aldric had stated it as though he already knew. Had he made an effort to discover this, or had Evie revealed it to him? ‘A very ambitious captain indeed, your Grace.’ He’d made enough to retire and return to land, and to have a house and family, should he wish for one.

‘Your record is admirable,’ the duke continued. ‘Other than a brief flirtation with the church of Rome, while you were in Spain.’

So he had read the record, then. And the warning put there by the captain, for the time he had spent conversing with priests. ‘It was curiosity. Nothing more.’ And a desire to find a cure for his spiritual affliction, or at least absolution, from a clergy that was bound to secrecy. In the end, the priest had looked at him with pity and disgust, and given him beads and prayer, almost as Sam might have prescribed a pill.

It had done no good.

‘It is strange that you have taken such an interest in my interest.’ Sam allowed himself the candid observation. The meddling in his affairs by this stranger annoyed him. ‘I do not mean to bother Evelyn with it, if that is what you fear.’

‘Not at all, sir,’ the duke said hastily. ‘I merely wished to take your measure.’

‘Then consider it done. I am what you see before you. No more, no less. In the future, if you have a question, you might ask me directly and I will answer it honestly and to the best of my ability. For Evelyn’s sake, if for no other reason.’ Did invoking her name make the words sound any less rude?

‘I see,’ the duke said.

‘I wonder if you do?’ Sam said, too tired of the games they were playing to dissemble. ‘I might as well have sworn to you on all that is holy. Such an oath would have had no more strength than my wish for Eve’s continued well-being. No matter what you might suspect, I want what is best for her.’ And then he admitted grudgingly, ‘If what I am hearing is true, she is on the verge of a fortunate match.’

Rather than answer this, the duke merely shrugged. It was a strange, rather boyish response from one so confident. ‘I have hopes. But it is up to the lady, is it not?’

‘I wish her well,’ Sam added. ‘She deserves the best that life offers. I have no reason to think she is not about to receive it.’

The duke gave him a long, slow look in response to this, as though trying to decide if he believed it. At last, he answered, ‘I am happy to hear you say so. Should I be the future you predict, I shall do my best to be worthy of her.’

This made Sam respond with an equally probing look. He could have understood a warning to stay away. But this behaviour seemed to indicate that the duke sought this approval. It was not necessary.

The silence fell between them again. It was even heavier this time, like the exhausted rest of men who had fought each other and were waiting between rounds to regain their breath.

Into the tense pause came Eve. As though she had not been between them the whole time, thought Sam with an ironic smile.

She was smiling as well, totally unaware of the direction their conversation must have gone. ‘I have returned to you,’ she announced. ‘I hope that my absence has given the pair of you a chance to become acquainted.’

‘You were gone barely ten minutes, Evelyn,’ the duke responded. ‘It was hardly enough time to establish a lasting friendship.’

‘But you spoke,’ she said as though prodding a wayward child through his lessons. ‘And you found him to be all that I have said?’

It made Sam wonder just what Eve had said of him.

‘I did not doubt your description,’ St Aldric answered. ‘But, yes.’

‘Then did you tell him what we discussed?’

‘I was a topic of discussion?’ Sam interrupted. He did not like being talked about. It was almost as annoying as being the subject of an enquiry.

‘I simply made clear to St Aldric how your career worried me,’ Evie replied, sitting between them in the space the kitten had occupied. She reached out and clasped his hand. ‘You were gone so long, Sam. I missed you. And do not tell me the navy is not dangerous. Even with Napoleon defeated, it must be. There are storms and pirates, and all manner of accidents that might befall you. Suppose you took ill? Who would treat the physician?’

‘Evie.’ Now she was coddling him and doing it in front of the duke. He added embarrassment to the host of other discomforts she caused.

‘I wondered if something might be done to persuade you to stay ashore.’

‘Do you not think that I am best able to decide for myself?’ Sam said, as gently as possible.

‘I told her as much,’ St Aldric said with a sigh. ‘But she did not wish to hear it.’ For a moment, they were brothers in arms against a foe as tenacious as Bonaparte. But having fought both, Sam credited Evie as more stubborn than the whole French army.

‘I am tired of people ignoring my letters and dismissing my fears,’ Eve said, eyes narrowed and jaw set. ‘Samuel Hastings, you are risking your life at sea and there is no reason for it. I have been quite beside myself, praying for your return. A practice on land will be safer. Something must be arranged for you.’

Sam took a breath before speaking, trying to keep his temper for her sake. ‘As I told you before, I prefer to make my own way. My early life was spent beholden to your father and it was difficult.’ More difficult than she could possibly imagine. ‘The debts of gratitude I incurred are something that can never be repaid.’

‘You need not be grateful for a job,’ she snapped back. ‘I am sure you are skilled enough to merit this position. It is an opportunity, nothing more. You will prove your worth by your service. I have spoken to St Aldric and he is agreed.’ She gave the duke a warning look that said this had best be the truth, if he knew what was good for him. And then her expression changed to sort of smile that no man could resist and she took the duke’s hand, giving it the same warm squeeze that she had given Sam. ‘It is all settled. You will come to Aldricshire with us and act as Michael’s personal physician.’

For a moment, the anger was stunned out of him. Any doctor in England would be overjoyed with such a post. St Aldric was young and strong, and of an amiable nature that bespoke a long and pleasant career in his service. It would mean a life of comfort and a chance to keep a wife and children in luxury.

As long as he was willing to keep Evelyn’s husband fit and healthy. Perhaps he would be required to watch over her, as she grew big with another man’s child, and stand by in approval as their brood increased. And now she was holding both their hands and looking from one to the other as though it would be possible to make the three of them into one happy family.

‘No.’ He made no effort to hide his disgust as he pulled his hand out of her grasp and stood, turning and backing away from the pair on the bench. ‘You ask too much of me, Evie.’ He looked to the man beside her, trying to maintain a frigid courtesy. This idea was no fault of the duke’s, but it explained his rude questioning of moments before. He probably feared that Sam was the sort of man who would use Evie’s fondness to his own betterment. ‘I apologise, your Grace, but I must respectfully refuse the offer.’ Perhaps St Aldric could explain it to her. The man must have guessed his feelings, if Thorne had not already explained the situation.

He looked at Evie, whose beautiful eyes were beginning to fill with tears, and then he backed away from her, towards the house. ‘And I should take my leave as well. It is long past the time I meant to go. You persuaded me to tarry. But I should not have listened.’

Lead us not into temptation … The words of the prayer echoed in his mind.

But they offered no protection from the stricken look on her face. ‘Sam, wait …’

If she spoke another word, he would weaken. He would wipe those tears and agree to anything that might make her smile again. She would have him moved into the house by evening, sleeping scant feet from her bedroom door.

‘I cannot.’ Must not. ‘Not another moment. Good day to you, Lady Evelyn. And you as well, your Grace. And goodbye.’




Chapter Five


Evie watched the London streets passing by outside the carriage window and tapped her foot impatiently on the boards beneath the seat. It was really too much to bear.

Before making her come out, it had been drummed into her by Aunt Jordan that her future depended on her ability to be pleasant. It was almost as important as looks and much more important than intelligence. Men might marry a beautiful ninnyhammer, as long as she hung on their words and did not correct them. But a shrew would be a shrew, long after looks faded.

So Eve had done her best to be good company. And though she could not keep herself from arguing, she always did it with a smile on her face. Perhaps that was why the men in her life were treating her like a child, alternately scolding and humouring her, thinking that they could render her agreeable to what they wanted. Because she did not look angry, they did not believe she was serious.

Father was clearly lying about what he knew of Sam. Sam was equally evasive when it came to the truth of his feelings for her, changing from hot to cold and back again so suddenly that she could hardly understand him.

And St Aldric? She smiled in spite of herself. He would appoint the devil himself as a personal physician if he thought it would bring her any closer to accepting his offer. At least the man was consistent. But since she did not love him, his opinion hardly signified.

The carriage pulled to a stop outside the inn where Sam was staying. It was another piece of nonsense that he had refused his old room, remaining aloof in a place that could not be half as nice as home. Even worse, she had been forced to worm the location of it from the coachman who had taken him away. Sam had left no direction for her and her father had announced that he had no idea where to find the man, nor was he bothered by his ignorance.

Now that she was here, she told her Ban-bury tale to the hostler and was shown to the room where Sam had gone to ground. She knocked smartly on the door and heard the answering ‘come’ from the other side. Perhaps he was expecting a maid with his dinner.

She smiled to herself. He was certainly not expecting her. But he must learn to like surprises. She opened the door and swept into the room, her smart day dress swirling around her. ‘Good afternoon, Dr Hastings. I have come to continue our discussion in private.’

‘Evie.’ He rose from the desk where he had been seated and a prayer book tumbled to the floor, brushed from the table in front of him.

She had not known him to be particularly religious, but people altered with time. He probably did not think of her as a sophisticated débutante. When he’d left, she had been a scapegrace companion with manners no better than his. But the change in her should not have shocked him this much. He was backing away from the door as though he meant to brace his shoulders against the wall. He had the look of a startled animal.

But a thoroughly masculine animal, if she was to be honest. He was out of his coat, with his shirt sleeves rolled up to keep the grime from his cuffs. She could see muscles in those arms, and shoulders more broad and strong than she’d imagined. She swallowed and remembered, for just a moment, why one did not court impropriety by forcing one’s way into a gentleman’s room for a private interview.

But the gentleman was Sam. And no matter what might happened between them, she did not fear it.

‘What are you doing here?’ he asked, wary. ‘And why were you even allowed above stairs? The innkeeper will think you a common trollop for behaving so.’

‘Nonsense,’ she said and gave him a wink, trying to coax a smile from him. ‘I told him that we were family. Is it not natural for a sister to visit a brother?’

He made a strange, strangled noise, as though he could not quite master his speech, and then said weakly, ‘It was still very wrong of you.’

‘But I could not allow you to leave me in anger. I do not want to part this way. I do not want to part at all.’ She glanced at the sea chest on the floor. It was clear that he was packing again. ‘And I certainly do not want you to go as you did before, without a word.’

For a moment, her voice sounded strange as well. If she was not careful, she would break down in front of him and beg him to stay. Excess emotion was effective against Father. But Sam would likely think she was shamming and put her out of the room.

She conquered the tears, before they could escape. Running down the back of her throat, they tasted very like the ones she had shed when he’d first left her. She did not cry any more. Gentleman might be moved by a weeping woman, but they did not like her nearly as well as a smiling one. She dropped her head a bit so that she might appear demure and properly sorry for getting above herself. ‘I will talk no more of finding you a position. I will not meddle at all. But you promised you would stay for the wedding. Remember? You promised. You cannot break your word to me, just because of a silly misunderstanding. Forgive me.’ She looked up through her lashes and held out a hand to him. Contrition, helplessness, and a hint of flirtation should bring him round.

He ignored the hand, back still firmly against the wall. ‘There is nothing to forgive. What you did was out of concern for me and I thank you for attempting to help, even if I must refuse. I will do as you ask and stay for the wedding. I will even buy a new coat and have my neckcloth properly tied for it, so that I do not shame you before St Aldric.’

His expression was frozen and his tone wooden. He looked and sounded as false as she felt, trying to snare him with her feminine wiles. He paused, wetting his lips before speaking again, as though it had been necessary to prepare himself for the answer. ‘Now when is this wedding you are so eager for me to attend?’

She smiled in triumph. ‘I really have no idea. I have not said yes, you remember. But if you mean to leave as soon as I am wed, I suspect it shall take me some time to decide.’

He lurched forwards as though about to give her a good shaking for her impudence, then regained control and ran his fingers through his hair. ‘Evelyn, I swear, your behaviour is enough to drive a sane man to madness.’

‘So I have been told,’ she said with another smile. ‘It is good to see that you are not unaffected by it.’ She took a step closer to him, pressing her advantage. ‘We were quite close at one time, though you work very hard to deny it.’

‘Like siblings,’ he said firmly.

She shook her head. He must have known how she’d felt about him. She had made no effort to hide her love. But he had given her no chance to elicit some promise from him, before he went off to school, so that she would know to wait for his return. Now that they were alone, there would be no better time. ‘You were always more than a brother to me, Sam.’

‘But you were always my dear little sister,’ he said, stubbornly. ‘And I am very proud to think that I will soon have to call you “Your Grace”. Or I will once you stop stringing poor St Aldric along.’

‘I cannot accept him while there is still a question as to where my heart might lie,’ she said.

He flinched. ‘Surely such questions were answered long ago, Evelyn.’

‘When you left me with no explanation?’ she supplied.

‘You knew I was to go away to school.’

‘But I did not expect you to run the whole way. Nor did I expect you to run again today, in the middle of a simple conversation about your future.’

‘A future you wished to choose for me,’ he reminded her.

‘And you are seeking a different one?’ Perhaps it was with some other girl that felt the same way as she did. If it was another woman, why could he not just tell her? If it was to spare her pain, he had misjudged the situation. A simple answer for this rejection was bound to be better than not knowing.

And if there was another, the key to his absence was right here in the room with him. The other woman, if she was smart, would not have wanted him to forget that someone waited for his return. There must be a lock of hair, a miniature or some other token of her affection. Eve had but to find it and understand. And there before her was the sea chest and doctor’s bag, waiting to be explored.

She trailed her fingers along the edge of the open chest and then turned to it suddenly, dropping to her knees to examine the contents.

There was no sign of another woman here. The box in front of her contained nothing but the tools of his profession.

It was novel enough that he had a trade, for most gentlemen did not. Eve tended the folks around their country home quite efficiently without a doctor’s help, but she did it with little more than instinct, herbs and a needle and thread from her sewing box. It was charity and not real work at all.

But here before her were all the things that a trained physician might have at his disposal. To Eve, it was a revelation. She had read about the uses of such instruments in the books on medicine that she had got, but she had never seen them.

These were arrayed neatly, carefully, immaculate in their cleanliness and as ordered as idols in a temple. Lancets with smooth tortoiseshell handles, the gleaming steel of bone saws and drills, the terrifying razor edge of scalpels and the curved needles threaded with silk and gut. Beneath them, in neat rows, were cobalt-blue medicine bottles and the weird globes of the leech jars.

The third layer was a collection of more esoteric items, harder to pack, but obviously well used. A syringe made of hollow bone, ivory-and-silver medicine spoons and forceps. She examined each one in turn.

‘Are you searching for something, Evelyn?’ Sam had been so silent that she had almost forgotten him as she explored. But it seemed that her curiosity had relaxed him. He was no longer pinned to the wall, but standing just behind her. His voice had changed as well. The strangled desperation had changed to a familiar combination of disapproval, amusement, resignation and affection.

She wanted to turn and answer honestly. Yes, I am searching for the key to understanding you. Instead, she was almost as truthful. ‘I am curious about your profession.’ She turned to face him and sat on the floor, her legs tucked under.

‘And once again, you prove that the years have not changed you. You always were a horrible little snoop.’ He relaxed enough to sit down on the end of the bed. ‘Is there anything you wish me to explain?’

‘I know most of them,’ she admitted.

‘You do?’ This seemed to surprise him.

‘I have studied,’ she admitted. ‘I ordered the same texts you used in Edinburgh and read them cover to cover.’

Another man might have questioned her ability to understand them. But all that Sam said was, ‘Does your father know?’

It was difficult to meet his gaze and admit the truth. Eve had not thought of herself as a deceptive person, when he had left her. Although she often disagreed with her father, she never set out to disobey him. But she had suspected in this it would be necessary and had kept the extent of her knowledge a secret from him. ‘You know he does not. He would never have approved of it. He thinks I tend to the sick in the same way other women do, by bringing broth and good wishes, and the sort of herbal tinctures that Mother would have used had she survived. But I prefer to be more scientific about it.’ Then a thought occurred to her. ‘You will not tell him, will you?’

Sam laughed. ‘Of course not.’ And then he grew serious. ‘Nor will I tell St Aldric. I doubt he is expecting a wife with such outré hobbies.’

If Sam loved her as she hoped, he could use the information to his advantage and spoil her chances with the duke. Instead, he was being noble. She sighed. ‘The ways of men are very confusing. They have no care if we women meddle with illnesses, as long as we do it in ignorance. Do they not want people to recover?’ She tipped her head to the side and watched Sam for an honest reaction as she asked the next question. ‘What do you think of my dabbling? Am I wrong to want to practise what I can read clear on the page?’




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