Chapter Twenty-Five
Everett ran up the lower garden steps when he heard Whitney cry out stop.
He rushed toward the sound of her distress, rounded a garden pond featuring a statue of Athena, and found her struggling in the Duke of Exeter’s arms.
The duke was kissing her, but Whitney was beating at his shoulders as if she wished he wouldn’t.
Blood boiling, Everett wrenched them apart, putting Whitney firmly behind him for safety. “I believe the lady said stop.”
The duke blinked at him, and then drew back, fury in his eyes. “This has nothing to do with you, Acton. Kindly take yourself somewhere else.”
He flexed his hands at his side. He wasn’t a man prone to violence—unless Whitney Crewe was being ravished against her will, it seemed. He steadied his temper. One did not attack a duke without personal provocation. “I don’t think so. I could hardly consider myself Miss Crewe’s friend if I abandoned her to a man who did not listen. She said stop. Very clearly, Your Grace.”
Whitney clutched Everett’s arm, her actions supporting his decision to protect her as she used him as a shield. “Don’t fight,” she whispered.
“Very well. Miss Crewe, we will talk about this later.”
Whitney trembled. “There is nothing to discuss. You misunderstood everything I said, Your Grace.”
“You’re a damn tease, then.”
The duke was asking for a good drubbing.
“I said there were others that admired you. I never said it was me!”
He glanced at Whitney over his shoulder. “Is the person who likes Exeter an acquaintance of yours?”
Whitney nodded quickly. “I just can’t say who it is right now.”
Puzzled but taking Whitney at her word, he faced the duke. “You owe the lady an apology. For not listening, for the kiss, and the insult. Now.”
Whitney flexed her fingers around his arm, and he covered her hand with his.
“I apologize, Miss Crewe,” Exeter said stiffly at last. “For not listening, for the kiss, and the insult. I misunderstood your interest.”
“Granted,” she whispered. “I would prefer that we never speak of this again,” she begged.
“That I can do, since you’re leaving anyway,” the duke said, before he spun on his heel and stalked off.
Whitney sagged against Everett’s back, burying her face in his coat collar. “Damn. Damn. Damn.”
Everett warmed all over. Not from her cursing but the feel of her against his body. “He thought you liked him?”
“He did,” she whispered. “But I don’t. Not the way he wanted me to.”
A silly smile burst over his face, which he tried to force away.
Whitney thumped his back. “You don’t have the right to look so pleased about it.”
But he was pleased. He was utterly delighted that the distinguished Duke of Exeter stood no chance with Whitney Crewe. But if she didn’t like the duke, and clung to Everett with such fervor now, did that mean it was not too late for him. For them? “Are you all right?”
“Mortally embarrassed, but I’ll survive.” She laid her cheek against his shoulder with a beleaguered sigh. “I thought he understood that we could only ever be friends.”
“You do tend to make an impression,” he suggested.
“Obviously the wrong sort, in his case,” she said, and then released him. “How am I ever to talk to him again? I will have to guard every word I say to make certain there are no further misunderstandings.”
He sighed. “It will be all right. You are leaving tomorrow.”
“I must. Even more so now.” She raised her fingers to her lips, eyes wide like saucers. “Oh, hell, this is the worst mistake I have ever made.”
He tried not to smile again. Almost making love to him could have been the worst if she had not liked the experience so much. He was buoyed with hope, a rare feeling these days. Thinking to help her in any way he could, he offered his aid instantly. “Then perhaps you would allow me to shield you.”
“Shield me?”
He rocked back on his heels. “I am at a loose end today. Unless Emily succumbs to another fever, I had hoped to spend the rest of your last day here. With you.”
“I see.” She glanced toward the house, frowning. “Does that mean Miss Quartermane is inside?”
“No, she is not inside,” he promised, not bothering to explain where Alice was for now. The words to say he was no longer engaged had stuck fast in his throat, too.
Alice and her parents had left his home already, a note left behind to explain that the engagement had ended. “I walked across from Warstone on foot. I’ve no notion of when you might see Miss Quartermane again.”
All of that was true. The Quartermanes’ carriage had left his estate early that morning while he’d been with Emily. He had wondered if the family might have called here and taken their leave of everyone. Perhaps they had not after all. Perhaps the end of his engagement might remain a secret for a few days more. The awkwardness could come later, after Whitney was gone. He rather hoped it might, because he did not want to discuss why he wasn’t upset about Miss Quartermane with everyone.
“Might I keep you company on your last day?” he asked.
Whitney’s answering smile was unusually shy. “I would like that.”
Everett held out his arm to Whitney and, when she wrapped hers about his, he silently vowed to make this the best day of their entire association.
Rather than return and be confronted by the Duke of Exeter in a temper again, he took Whitney to the stables and introduced her to Lion. His horse draped himself all over Whitney, who laughed and fed him a treat from his pocket.
“Oh you are a lovely old fellow, aren’t you,” Whitney told his horse as she patted him.
Everett stood aside to watch her with his horse. She seemed very confident. “Do you ride often?”
“Indeed, I usually do in the countryside, but haven’t spent much time on horseback this last season in London. I dislike the congestion on the roads. I prefer a good long gallop.”
He smiled. “I host a hunt each year.”
She nodded quickly. “I knew that. The last hunt I attended was two years ago now, but great fun. I plan to acquire my own horse on the continent. I do regret the days when I cannot ride about.”
He sighed with pleasure at her confession. “I feel exactly the same way.”
Next, they returned to the kitchen garden where they’d almost shared a kiss. Behind the privacy of those high walls, he captured her hand and held it. “I would like to return tomorrow to see you off on your journey, too.”
For a moment, he saw sadness in her eyes. “I asked for the carriage to be ready for eight o’clock. Is that too early?”
“I will be here no matter the time.”
He released her hand when they left the privacy of the kitchen garden and strolled toward the open drawing room doors, where everyone appeared to have gathered. The sound of happy chatter drifted out to greet them as the sun set, and Whitney clutched his arm again when she saw the Duke of Exeter was in the room.
He patted her hand soothingly. “You can do this, Whitney. We can do this together.”
He led her inside and responded to hails of welcome, but he kept himself near Whitney all evening. The duke watched her in brooding silence and then left the room. Everyone suggested he would likely end up in the nursery, doting on his great niece and nephew yet again. It appeared no one but them knew about the kiss, and he was relieved beyond words that she was spared any awkwardness.
Everett threw a smile at Whitney, which she returned. After that, the woman he loved relaxed and enjoyed her last night at Twilit Hill in the company of good friends. He did not question his feelings for her anymore. Now that he no longer had the prospect of marriage looming over his head, he could see his feelings for this woman had always been just beneath the surface.
He had gravitated to her smile, like a drunk takes to drink perhaps. They might disagree on certain topics—marriage and decorum, to name just two—but they had always spoken together about them. Impassioned and eager to hear the other’s words. Nevermore would he feel she dismissed him as just another titled gentleman who thought too much of himself and his position.
After an excellent dinner attended by every guest, the ladies left to take tea and the gentlemen consumed port and cigars. Everett kept a distance from the duke, but kept an eye on him.
Not that he considered Exeter stood a chance of changing Whitney’s mind now.
Few probably could.
The Marchioness of Taverham approached him as soon as the gentlemen rejoined the ladies. “Were you not going to share the news with everyone that the Quartermanes left your estate today?”
He glanced at her quickly, and then around to see who was listening. No one else was paying them any attention, and Whitney was surrounded by other women and laughing once more. “It hadn’t been my intention, no.”
Her expression softened to regret. “I am so sorry.”
Judging by the sadness in her eyes, she wasn’t just speaking of the Quartermanes’ abrupt leave-taking. Somehow she had already learned that his engagement had ended, too. “How did you know?”
“A feeling. Your smile when you look at Whitney has changed today. It is the same eagerness Taverham often reveals when we’ve been apart.” Miranda sighed. She nodded toward her guests. “Does she know yet that you are free?”
He quickly shook his head. “There is no need to spoil her evening with talk of my situation. It would be entirely selfish to darken the evening. She would want to talk about what happened. Let her be happy tonight. She is due to depart so early in the morning.”
“Did you never think she might return your regard and not wish to leave after all?”
“She wishes to leave no matter what I say.” Whitney might feel something for him, but at this late stage in her visit, he couldn’t countenance upsetting her. They were good friends, with lust as a silent counterpart to every discussion they’d ever had. But further complications were unwise at this juncture. He would not hold Whitney back. She deserved to travel, to grow beyond society’s expectations without letting a little love and his sudden availability cloud the air.
He loved her too damn much to deny her the life she wanted.
He would keep this one secret from Whitney, and hope that perhaps one day she might return to him.
He glanced at Lady Taverham, and saw her eyes had misted with tears. “I wanted so much for you both to be happy,” she whispered.
“Please, say nothing further.” Happiness would have to wait in his case anyway. There would never be a better time to lay what remained of his secrets bare to his friend’s wife. So he squared his shoulders, ready to begin the most damning confession of his life. “Lady Taverham, there is something else I must share with you.”
“Miranda,” she murmured, before linking her arm through his and drawing him to an open window.
“Thank you, but…” he started, and further words stuck in his throat as a warm breeze battered his face. It was a perfect night, and he very much regretted that he would upset a lady he’d come to admire.
Miranda sighed. “If you are about to confess to Emily’s whereabouts, rest assured I’ve known all along exactly where she is…and her unfortunate diagnosis.”
He stared at her in horror, expecting a similar reaction to her husband’s. “You know?”
“Everything.” Miranda nodded. “We shared the same physician for a time, but he begged to be excused from attending me in future. I do wish you’d not told my husband about her living nearby though. He’s turned into a bear and is hovering worse than ever. It is not good for him, or for my heart, when he worries incessantly.”
“I’m sorry that you have been worried.” He studied Miranda, who, at the moment, did not seem at all angry, as she had every right to be. “I have no choice but to leave her there indefinitely now.”
“I know her situation grows worse every day,” Miranda murmured. “Whitney was kind enough to explain the progression of her parents’ illness. They died of consumption too, you know.”
He groaned. “She never told me that.”
“It was a long time ago,” Miranda murmured. “She was nine when they died, within a few days of each other. After that, she was shunted all over the countryside to every loving relative she had, before she landed on Lord Louth’s doorstep with her last uncle in tow. She has endured a lifetime of loss in her short years. That was why I’d hoped she somehow might find a home finally, as your wife. She likes it here very much, and you are good together.”
“Lady Taverham, I—”
“How many times must I insist you call me by my first name?”
He raked his hand through his hair as he stared at Whitney. “I never meant to cause trouble for anyone.”
“Then don’t. I know we’ve not known each other very long, and you might feel this is none of my business, but you simply must tell her how you feel about her.” Although he gaped, Miranda’s attention switched to Whitney Crewe. “She’s not as open to expressing her feelings as you might expect from someone so opinionated about everything else.”
He remembered how she’d clung to him after the Duke of Exeter’s kiss. She had needed his support and had expressed her need without words. “I will do nothing to halt her adventure, but neither can I join her because of Emily.”
“Are you sure letting her go is wise?”
He looked at Whitney again, felt that longed-for happiness well up inside him. The feeling threatened to wreak havoc on his good intentions, but he could not be selfish. “I care about her too much to let what I feel stand in her way. She leaves tomorrow, and I will remain to care for Emily in her last days.”
Miranda was silent after that for many minutes, and when Whitney slipped from the room, he decided he would follow her discreetly in a few moments.
Miranda’s breath caught. “You love her.”
“Yes, Miranda. I have loved her since the night we first met.” He bowed. “She has always been the sun upon which my world turns. Excuse me.”