Page 97 of Never Besmirch a Wallflower: Dukes and Wallflowers

Ernest grabbed her arm before she could rush from the room.

He shook his head. “Stop running, Eveline.”

“I’ve made such a mess of everything,” she said, a tear dripping down her cheek.

“I’ve never known you to cry,” Ernest said, handing her a handkerchief. “Yet you’ve wept three times since my arrival this morning. Where is my fearless sister? The one who used to steal my trousers and climb apple trees in the neighbor’s orchard?”

Twisting away, Eveline covered her face with the cloth. “Humphrey frightened her out of me.”

“No, he didn’t.” Ernest turned Eveline and pulled the handkerchief away, forcing her to stare into his eyes. “You’re here. You came alone. You created a new life for yourself. I can’t think of anything braver.”

Miss Fernsby-Webb stood. “And we won’t allow Miss Drummond to force you into hiding.”

“What are you suggesting?” Miss Webb said, her eyes glinting.

“There must be some type of amusement we can attend this evening.” Miss Fernsby-Webb glanced at the Duke of Roxburghe. “To show Miss Braddock isn’t afraid of Miss Drummond or her brutish brother.”

“There’s a new play that opened at the theater last week,” the Duke of Roxburghe replied after a moment.

“I thought you and my sister attended the opening.”

He glanced at Miss Webb, who exploded into scarlet.

“We missed most of the performance,” the Duke of Roxburghe finally said with a grin, earning a growl from Miss Fernsby-Webb as he danced away from her ire. “I’ll invite Beaufort and Mansfield to join us. I’m certain they’d like to meet Miss Braddock.”

Ernest patted Eveline’s shoulder as he scooted around her. “Your Grace, may I suggest meeting myself and the ladies outside the theater? Then, your coach won’t need to return here later this evening.”

The Duke of Roxburghe appeared as though he wanted to argue against the suggestion but couldn’t think up an excuse.

After a moment, he inclined his head and said, “Mr. Braddock, I’d like a word with you in private.”

Ernest followed the Duke of Roxburghe to the foyer, then low rumbles crawled into the parlor. Despite slinking past the doorway, Eveline couldn’t decipher their whispered conversation. The front door opened and shut before she strolled past the opening again.

Darting across the room, Eveline flung herself onto the sofa and reached for her teacup just as Ernest walked back into the parlor.

“Would you show me which chamber holds my trunk?” He gestured toward the staircase. “I’d like to change my clothing, and I’m certain all three of you would prefer to dress for the evening.”

“The first chamber on the left,” Eveline replied, rising and walking toward him. “Next to mine.”

The exact chamber that housed the Duke of Lennox the night he kissed her. When she and Mrs. Hawkins deposited Ernest’s trunk earlier that day, the room still possessed a faint residue of the Duke of Lennox’s seductive scent.

Eveline and Ernest climbed the stairs together, neither of them speaking. Certain she owed his silence to the presence of Miss Webb and Miss Fernsby-Webb, Eveline grasped his arm and leaned in.

“You’ve not yelled at me as I expected,” she murmured, barely moving her lips.

“My anger melted into worry a fortnight after your disappearance.” He grimaced, pausing on the second-floor landing. “I accused Humphrey of committing a violent act against you.”

“Did he demand satisfaction?” Eveline asked, her chest constricting.

Ernest shifted his gaze, avoiding Eveline’s eyes. “I lost.”

She threw her arms around his neck and drew him into a tight hug. “Never do anything foolish like that again! Swear to me. Humphrey is dangerous, and you’re… not as proficient at violence.”

“I’ll agree if you stop strangling me.”

“Oh!” She released him with a sheepish grin.

They agreed to meet in the foyer in one hour, and then each disappeared into their chamber. Nervous energy coursing through Eveline, she dressed at breakneck speed, her body blurring as she zipped about the room.