Page 38 of Outrageous

“It must have been very difficult to handle such knowledge as a child.”

Eva studied him closely for a long, uncomfortable moment. “I’ve only known a few years,” she said when she was sure he wasn’t taunting her. “My father didn’t tell us about her until I was almost fifteen.” Eva chewed the inside of her cheek, wondering why she was telling him these things.

Because he will learn all about your family when he becomes your husband.

Husband.

She swallowed yet again. “My father thought he was protecting us,” she volunteered, even though he’d said nothing.

“I can see that.”

“Well, I can’t,” she retorted. “If I’d known for longer, I could have prepared for when he decided to ship me off to school—because those girls knew all about me before they even met me. My sisters and I had no idea what my mother had been like during her last years, but every member of the ton knew at least one sordid tale about the beautiful, mad Marchioness of Exley. And they were so eager to share it all with us.”

Eva wasn’t sure she could ever forgive her father for keeping them in the dark for so long, even though he’d apologized and admitted his mistake. If her stepmamma hadn’t come along, it was likely Eva would still be living at Exham in ignorance. Which wouldn’t be so bad, come to think of it. Except it would mean she would never have known Mia or Gabriel, who were two of her favorite people in the world.

“Do both your sisters live at home?” he asked.

Eva considered saying something rude—just because she was feeling rude—but decided she was too tired to come up with anything suitably cutting. Besides, she had the rest of her life to be rude to him.

“No, just Mel—Melissa. My older sister, Catherine, is married.” A thought struck her. “Her husband was a captain—Baron Salford. Do you know him?”

“I know of him.” He paused, his expression thoughtful, as if he were combing his memory. “I may have met him once at an officer’s dance a few years ago.”

“Well, his dancing days are behind him now, as he’s confined to a chair.” Eva didn’t know her new brother-in-law very well, but what she did know did not give her much hope for her sister Catherine’s happiness. Salford had been struck in the back with shrapnel, which left him unable to move his lower body. He was reclusive and quiet and Catherine had only met him because she’d been visiting Salford’s sister. Eva was fairly sure the reason Cat had married him was because he couldn’t have children and already had a son and heir from his prior marriage.

Eva’s stepmamma had had plenty to say about her sister’s choice, which was obviously motivated by Cat’s concerns about having a child. But Cat had, for once, stood by her decision. The newlyweds lived only about two hours from Exham Castle, but Eva had only seen them twice in the six months since they’d married. Both times Cat and her husband had looked strained and unhappy, not exactly endorsements for the married state.

Eva realized the carriage had been silent for a while. Good. She didn’t want to talk about her family. In spite of his apology—and the fact he would soon become her husband—Eva didn’t feel like he deserved to know the inner workings and personal details of the people she loved. Not after the way he’d harried Gabriel. He’d need to earn the right to know any more than she’d just told him. The thought of him wanting anything from her enough to work for it gave her a bitter smile.

She closed her eyes and leaned back into the corner, resting her head on the squabs, already feeling the pull of sleep. The less time they spent together awake, the better it would be for both of them.

Chapter 8

Godric glanced around the dimly lighted, greasy smelling room; he was a bloody idiot. If anything, this ramshackle inn was worse than the one last night. Not only that, but they’d hardly covered much more than ten miles today; they were still miles from the border.

Around two o’clock, several hours after his uncomfortable interlude with Eva, the carriage became stuck in a bloody bog. He’d actually been grateful to get out of the cold, hostile environment of the carriage, even if it had meant he’d spent the next few hours in the pouring rain and ankle-deep mud.

He looked down at his muddy boots and breeches—hell, even his coat had muddy spatters—and grimaced. He doubted the filthy innkeeper—whom he’d discovered unconscious and slumped behind the bar in the taproom—employed a boots to clean his clothing and footwear. Well, he’d done for himself times beyond counting while on campaign; he’d do for himself again, it seemed.

A loud knock came from the adjoining room, and Godric opened the door that connected the two bedchambers. Eva was sitting right where he’d left her: fully clothed on the bed, rubbing her eyes with the still-gloved knuckles of one hand.

“Oy!” The shout came from outside the door, reminding Godric that he’d locked it.

He opened the door to find two surly-looking bruisers with a hip bath and a pint-sized lad carrying a steaming bucket that was almost as big as he was.

“Set it up in front of the fire,” he instructed them.

“A bath?” The tired voice came from behind him.

Godric looked over to find Eva staring at the tub as if it were a miracle of biblical proportions. It had steam rising out of it but wouldn’t for long if they didn’t employ more than one spindly boy to fill it.

“I’ll stay here until it is full,” he told her when the three servants left. She didn’t argue. Eva, he’d learned, was blessedly tractable when she was tired.

Godric glanced around the room as she finally untied her cloak and bonnet. The walls were yellowed and the paint was peeling. It looked as if it hadn’t been given a thorough cleaning since the reign of the first George. Although the place was worse than last night’s inn, at least both rooms locked. If this weather persisted or, God forbid, worsened, they just might be staying here awhile.

“I’m hungry.”

Her words pulled him from his grim musing. “I’ll make sure there is something waiting for you after you’re finished in here.”