His eyes filled with hopeless tears. What was she doing at this exact moment? Was she well, or were her father and brother making her pay for her transgression with him? He did not know what the consequences of this would be for her. He hoped she wouldn’t suffer too badly. He hoped she would find a small measure of happiness in this world eventually, after the furore had died down.
His whole body ached with longing for her. Perhaps it always would. But she was lost to him now and there was nothing he could do to help her. They were worlds apart. But, of course, they always had been.
Chapter 36
Evelina’s stomach clenched as she stepped outside into the gardens with Edward Beaumont. Her fiancé had insisted that she accompany him on this unplanned walk after dinner, while the rest of the party retired to the drawing room for after dinner sherries and cards. And he had insisted, somewhat boorishly, that they didn’t need a chaperone.
“We are engaged,” he had said airily. “And we all know that my fiancée is hardly going to be a blushing bride when she walks to the altar, anyway.”
Evelina had flushed with mortification. Her father, and even Richard, had looked uncomfortable, but hadn’t challenged him. She supposed they were trying their utmost to appease the entire Beaumont family after her transgression.
I am soiled goods;she thought darkly. And they must sell me as cheaply as possible now.
She glanced covertly at her fiancé. He was holding a tumbler of brandy, sipping it as they walked along the path. Her stomach tightened again. He had consumed a lot of wine over dinner, along with his father, and was rather red and bleary eyed now. He was also growing increasingly nastier towards her, making veiled references to her transgression, which were becoming pointed.
She didn’t want to walk with him. She didn’t want to be alone with him at all, but she had little choice. And it was all being done with the consent of her family, which saddened her immeasurably. She expected it from Richard, but she thought her father might protect her honour. It seemed she was wrong. It seemed Papa just wanted to wash his hands of her now and be done with the business entirely.
She felt like a stranger within her own family. Her father and brother were in cahoots, a tight-knit band. Mama was gone forever. And she was alone, heartbroken over Jude, and feeling sick to her stomach that her entire life was being placed into Edward Beaumont’s unstable, ruthless hands.
“You do not mind if I smoke, do you?” he asked suddenly, pulling a fat cigar out of his pocket. “It is a pleasant after dinner habit which I have acquired recently.”
“Actually, Idomind,” said Evelina, feeling annoyed.
She detested cigar smoke. Usually, the gentlemen indulged in the habit when they gathered together after dinner, leaving the ladies out of it. Her father never indulged in it, claiming it was a disgusting habit. But it seemed her fiancé had no such compunction. She hoped she wouldn’t have to endure this constantly when she was married to him.
“Ah well, that is just bad luck,” he said in a contemptuous voice, lighting the cigar. “You must get used to me running the show from now on, Evelina. I will be the man of the house, after all.”
She glared at him, stepping away from him, as a fug of smoke enveloped her. He wasn’t even using her title any longer. She was just plain Evelina, who he could push around as he wished. His charming mask had slipped entirely, and now his true character was on display.
They had almost reached the gazebo. Suddenly, Evelina couldn’t bear the thought of entering the structure withhimby her side. The last time she had been here, it had been with Jude. They had declared their love. He had made sweet love to her against one of the posts. The memory was so poignant and sweet that she gasped, stopping abruptly.
“What is wrong?” asked her fiancé, eyeing her warily as he took a sip of his brandy. “Come on. I want to sit down.”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I… I do not want to go in there.” She hesitated, thinking quickly. “It reminds me of my mother.”
He gazed at her scornfully. “A gazebo reminds you of your mother? You are a soft headed thing, Evelina. It is just a garden structure.” He rolled his eyes.
Stung, she watched him walk inside, settling himself down. He took another sip of brandy, then drew on his cigar, looking well satisfied as he gazed around, his eyes fixing upon the nativity scene for a moment. Then he turned to her, beckoning her sharply.
Evelina fought down her anger and revulsion. It was like he was calling her as if he was calling a dog. And the worst of it was he believed he had the authority to treat her like this now. Her family had given her to him, hook, line and sinker. And he believed he was doing them a favour by taking her off their hands. Shewasa fallen woman now, after all.
“I am cold,” she said, glaring at him. “I would like to return to the house now.”
He eyed her balefully. “Well, I donotwish to do so yet,” he said in an acidic voice. “I am quite happy here, with my brandy and cigar. You need to sit down, Evelina. Now.”
She kept glaring at him but knew she had no choice, not if she didn’t want to cause a scene. She could run into the house and complain to her father, but she was no longer sure if he would back her up. Her blood ran cold as she pictured her father calmly, but sternly, sending her back out to her betrothed like a sacrificial lamb to the slaughter.
Her eyes filled with useless tears. She and Papa had once been so close, and it hadn’t been that long ago. Buteverythinghad changed since Richard had come back to Bosworth for Christmas. Her brother had wreaked havoc in their household, and there appeared to be no going back to the way it once was. Ever.
Shebelongedto the man staring at her coldly from the gazebo now. Or nearly, which was good enough for both her father and brother, who were breathing sighs of relief that he was still willing to take her after all that had happened and weren’t caring about protecting her best interests any longer. If they ever had.
She had no choice. She entered the gazebo, sitting as far away from him as she could, away from the expansive plume of smoke and his shifty, bleary eyes.
He turned to her, smiling at her in his most charming manner through a haze of smoke. She wasn’t fooled. She kept her face impassive, waiting for his next move, which didn’t take long.
“So,” he said, in an almost pleasant tone. “Tell me everything about this coachman of yours, Evelina.” He paused. “Your father and brother were tight-lipped about him, wanting to rush the subject, but I am rather intrigued.”
Evelina’s mouth tightened. She looked down at the floor of the gazebo, not saying anything.