Page 4 of A Rogue to Reform

Grant let out a long-exaggerated sigh. “If I must.”

*

It was midafternoon, and Evan remained in his study. There was little to do that day; however, with his mind awhirl with the current plan, he reviewed his ledgers in preparation of what he’d do once he had the money to take care of everything that needed attention.

“Sir, the men arrived and are repairing the roof over the kitchen,” Norman, his butler, informed him two days later. “May I have them repair the hole over the servants’ quarters? They tire of emptying buckets when it rains.”

Evan glanced to his tattered ledger before responding. “Yes. Very well. Nothing more.”

Norman nodded and turned away, stopping when Evan called his name.

“Why had you not told me of the leak in the servants’ quarters?”

His butler, who’d served for his grandfather, gave him a soft shrug. “There are only three of us and we moved from the ones with the leak. However, the last storm caused leaks in our current spaces.”

“You think me a fool for losing my money, don’t you?”

The butler’s gaze was warm. “It is the way of young men to learn from experience.” Crinkles appeared at the corners of his eyes. “The women and I thank you for the additional amount in our pay this month.”

Evan nodded. “It is less than each of you deserve. I know you work very hard.”

The butler walked out, and Evan went to his ledger. There was enough to pay for the roof repair, wages, and food for the two months. Thankfully, one of his investments into a tobacco shipper from America continued to pay something regularly. If only he’d bought a larger share when he had the means, he would be living much better.

He grunted when Grant walked through the door without knocking. “Just delivered.”

“What is it?” Evan asked, glancing at the envelopes in Grant’s hands.

“Our invitations to the Spring Ball.”

Chapter Two

One by one, pristine carriages lined Queen Street and slowly pulled up to the Theatre Royal. The first major event of the spring Season was in full swing, and every prominent household was to be represented.

Women in extravagant gowns, intricate hairdos, wearing sparkling jewels on throats, ears, and wrists were assisted from the carriages.

Upon entering, every guest paused in the ornate foyer until each family was announced by a man with a robust voice.

The din of excited conversations competed with the elegant string music that wafted from one room to the other.

Huge chandeliers shined brightly, as well as the candelabrums that had been placed here and there on large surfaces among the elaborate floral arrangements.

Servants moved through the throng, deftly avoiding feathers in hair and wide skirts as they served wine in crystal flutes and canapes from shiny trays.

Already several debutantes were standing out as the ones to watch. Beautiful young women with just the perfect look and sizable dowry. Their proud mothers kept a keen eye on the men who approached their daughters, each with hopes of an invitation for tea the following day.

Evan entered the large space through the arched front door, and not wishing to attract attention, skirted around the man who called out announcements.

Foremost on his mind was to find and study the widow Robertson. See what caught her notice and find a way to meet her in a fashion that would seem accidental.

It was only moments later that the woman’s name was announced. Resplendent in a tangerine gown, with contrasting emeralds draped on her throat and dangling from her ears, the attractive widow entered the room.

Somehow, the colors suited the brunette, who stood silently while her name was called. Her sharp gaze scanned the room as a light smile played on her lips.

She was immediately greeted by a pair of women who seemed to know her well and were probably recruited to avoid her remaining alone while walking about the room.

Evan moved around an annoyingly large vase overflowing with plumes, flowers, and vines that draped down its sides. He pushed a spindly vine aside to spy on the widow without being seen.

“Hiding from a scorned woman?” Someone tapped him on the shoulder. “I would not be surprised to find that one or two will throw their drinks in your face tonight.” The familiar sing-song voice continued. “Ever the rogue, Evan Macleod, who are you hiding from today?”