Page 27

27

Eva had never enjoyed the Sunday morning shuffle down the aisle to shake the reverend’s hand at the end of service. Mr. Blackwood’s fingers were too cold. His stare too intense. And though for the one day a week he wasn’t garbed head to toe in grey, the black frock coat, waistcoat, and trousers he replaced it with were as solemn as a crypt. Did the man never once wish for a burst of colour when he opened his wardrobe each morn?

“Miss Inman.” Mr. Blackwood dipped his head as he collected her hand. “I trust today’s message about God’s sovereignty was nourishment to your soul.”

“Yes, thank you.” She pulled away lest lightning strike them both in one zap. It hadn’t been a lie so much as an exaggeration, but surely that was just as bad. The truth was, she couldn’t remember the first half of his sermon. She’d been too preoccupied glancing around every few minutes to see if Mrs. Mortimer had arrived.

Instead of bolting off as was her habit, Eva lingered in the vestibule. “I note that your sister was not in attendance today, Mr. Blackwood. I had hoped to ask her how things went dropping off my sister at the school for the blind on Friday. Did she happen to mention anything to you when she returned to the vicarage?”

“She did not. You are welcome to stop by the house and ask her yourself, but best not to do so until later in the week when she has recuperated. She is quite spent whenever she returns from one of her shopping excursions.” His thin face darkened to match his suit. “A vice I have warned her against time and again.”

Interesting. Mrs. Mortimer never mentioned shopping. Had she taken Penny for new things the girl might need at school? And if so, how would she repay the woman? Eva tugged her gloves on tighter to keep from biting a nail. “I thought Mrs. Mortimer went to London merely to escort my sister.”

“Despite my biblical counsel, she can never resist an opportunity to indulge in new fancies for herself.”

Ahh. So nothing for Penny, then. But did the woman truly need to go shopping for herself? Every time Eva saw her, Mrs. Mortimer sported a new gown and matching hat to go with it.

“Pardon my asking, Mr. Blackwood, and I mean no offense, but if your sister is so very well off, why does she not simply live in London instead of your small vicarage?”

“Appearances can be deceiving, Miss Inman. I daresay Mrs. Mortimer would not survive a fortnight on her own, which is why she moved in with me four years ago when her husband died. I’m afraid the fellow pampered her to a fault, and as such, her stewardship capabilities are lacking in my estimation.”

Oh dear. If the woman did give in to such temptations, Penny would be ousted if the tuition was not met. Eva clutched her Bible with a death grip, not daring to think what that would mean if such a thing happened when she was off galivanting across the continent with Mrs. Pempernill.

“If that is true, Reverend, then what of my sister? Mrs. Mortimer assured me she would sponsor Penny for at least a year of education.”

“I wouldn’t agonize over it.” He patted her shoulder mechanically. “Just like Elisha and the widow’s oil, Mrs. Mortimer always seems to pour out more money when I least expect it. Now, if you don’t mind...” He tipped his head to indicate the congregants piling up for their chance to shake his cadaverous hand.

“Good day, Mr. Blackwood.” She bobbed a small curtsey.

“A holy Sabbath to you, Miss Inman.”

Outside, December air crawled beneath her skirts as she unhitched Dusty and climbed into the pony cart. No snow covered the ground, but it surely felt as if winter had arrived in full. For the most part, she ignored the cold, still concerned about Penny. She would have to make it a point to stay in constant contact with the headmaster, a Mr. Hardknuckle, if she remembered correctly. If any tuition payments weren’t made, she’d simply have him alert her at once. But what she’d do then ... Eva sighed, a cloud of mist puffing from her mouth. She had no idea what she’d do if Penny had to leave school before she returned from Tuscany with Mrs. Pempernill, which could be at least a year. And yet did she not have enough worries to manage without inventing fresh woes?

She gently eased the left rein while pulling slightly on the right, directing Dusty onto the lane for Inman Manor. It would be no easy task to inform the staff of their dismissal today. Oh, Tom would likely land another position in the countryside easily enough. Landowners were always in want of more muscle. It was Mrs. Pottinger, Mary, and Dixon who concerned her most. Dixon and Mrs. Pottinger were up in age, making them less desirable, and Mary had two fingers missing on her left hand from a farm incident as a child. It didn’t matter in the least concerning the maid’s duties, but some households would frown upon such an impediment. Oh, how she wished she didn’t have to part with such faithful staff!

She guided Dusty through the front gate, and an entirely new worry sprang up. An unfamiliar horse was tethered near the front steps. Had Mr. Buckle reneged on his word, serving the possession order today instead of Monday? If so, what a villain! Belly churning, she parked the pony cart and trotted up the stairs. She’d give the man the rough side of her tongue for such a desecration of the Sabbath.

Inside, she yanked her bonnet strings, the frayed ribbon harsh against her skin, and was nearly out of her coat when Dixon rounded the corner and strode into the hall.

An inscrutable smile arched the housekeeper’s lips. “You’ve a visitor, miss.”

“Thank you, Dixon.” She hung her coat on the hall tree. “As soon as I am finished with my guest, would you call the staff together for a meeting?”

Dixon’s smile vanished. “Of course.”

“Tom too.”

“I see.” The housekeeper’s lips pinched to a ripple. “Just ring the bell when you’re finished, miss, and I’ll direct everyone to the sitting room.”

“Thank you.” Eva stepped past her, refusing to think about the awful news she’d have to share with her staff in just a few moments. Instead, she collected every bit of fury she could find, jammed it all into a tight ball, and prepared to verbally lob it at Mr. Buckle.

She stopped dead in her tracks, just steps from the sitting room door. What was she doing? It wasn’t that man’s fault revenues had been raised and she hadn’t the funds to pay them. He was only doing his job.

Oh , God , forgive me.

Smoothing her skirts, she prepared to calmly face whatever Mr. Buckle may have for her.

But nothing could have prepared her for who stood near the mantel in the sitting room.

The past twenty-four hours had been nothing short of grueling. Moving all of Uncle Pendleton’s books, along with their office belongings, and then relocating Bram’s entire household had been an exhausting ordeal. It was strange to be living with his uncle again instead of on campus. Although Bram didn’t possess much, all that shifting and lifting had taken a toll. He pressed a fist to the ache in the small of his back, stifling a wince. Then again, it might not have been all the manual labour but the breakneck ride he’d taken from Cambridge to Inman Manor. A speed wholly unwarranted, save for the fact that he longed to see Eva again. At any rate, whatever the cause, the twinge in his back was a sinister reminder he wasn’t getting any younger ... and what had he to show for all his years? Here he stood unemployed, living with a relative, and currently in need of a good shave.

A shush of the sitting room door and following intake of air pulled him from his thoughts. He pivoted—and was struck afresh by the uncommon allure of the redheaded, blue-eyed enchantress standing wide-eyed at the door, for Eva was all that and more. Yet when he looked closer, he couldn’t help but note her skin was far too pale, especially for one who’d recently come in from a December day. There was a puffiness about her eyes as if she’d wept away every moment since he’d last seen her. Alarm tightened his chest.

“Eva?” He stepped from the hearth. “Have you been unwell?”

“No, I am...” Her nose scrunched far too adorably. “I am just a little confused as to why you are here.”

“A happy confused or an I’d-really-hoped-to-never-see-you-again sort of confused?”

“Most decidedly happy. Forgive my manners.” She swept across the rug and grabbed his hands. “It is very good to see you.”

“You as well.” He pressed a light kiss to the crown of her head, inhaling the fresh scent of outdoors lingering on her hair.

She pulled away, one arm gesturing toward the sofa. “Please sit. You must be exhausted after such a ride.”

“It was a good day for it. The sun is out, unlike our last venture back from Cambridge.” He smiled at the memory—a smile that grew as he noted a pinkening on her cheeks. Did she remember it fondly, then? He waited for her to settle on a chair, then took the side of the sofa closest to her.

“But what are you doing here?” She angled her head, studying his face. “Is everything all right? I hope there is nothing wrong with your dear uncle.”

“Nothing of the sort. I came to apologize in person for not having telegraphed you as I had promised and to give you something.” He handed over a banknote from inside his coat pocket.

Eva frowned at the paper for a beat, perplexity wrinkling her brow until understanding dawned in her eyes. “This is the exact amount I was short on for the property taxes!”

“I know. I only regret I couldn’t have gotten it to you on Friday. But no matter. Tomorrow you shall go to the revenue office and square away your tax debt.”

She clutched the paper to her chest like a cherished babe. “You have no idea how much this means to me.”

“I think I have an inkling.”

“No, you do not.” She shook her head. “My travel bag is packed even now for a position I did not really want, one that I was going to take tomorrow.” She waved the banknote in the air with a little squeal. “For now, you have rescued me, Bram Webb!”

“That is a bit dramatic.” He laughed. “But I am glad you will not have to leave your home.”

“And neither will my staff. I look forward to telling them.” She flounced against the cushion with a satisfied sigh. “So,” she murmured, “the relics must have sold. I am grateful to you for arranging the purchase.”

“They have not sold yet. I ran into an issue at the college.” Oy. What an understatement. “I have since moved your antiquities to the Fitzwilliam Museum. The curator was quite interested.”

“My, you have been busy. But how did you have time for all that?” She straightened, suspicion gleaming silver in her pale blue eyes. “What happened at your board meeting?”

“Yes, well...” He shifted uncomfortably on the sofa. He’d relived that trauma in his head more times than he cared to admit and wasn’t particularly keen on revisiting it again. The jut of Eva’s jaw, however, would be difficult to soften with anything other than the truth. “Suffice it to say that the meeting did not go as hoped. I am afraid there will be a different crew returning here next semester. Your dig shall now be led by Professor Grimwinkle.”

“Grimwinkle? I should think he would be concerned about getting his garments dirty. Why can you not finish the job?”

And here it was. The moment he’d have to admit he was an unemployed vagabond. He inhaled deeply. “My uncle and I are no longer employed by Trinity College.”

“What!” She gripped the arms of the chair, wrinkling the banknote. “Oh, Bram.”

Pity he could take, was expected, even, but the empathy in the quiver of her lips nearly undid him. “Come, now. It is not like I am dying. I simply have time to figure out what next I shall do.”

“What of the curator position in Royston? You must let Mr. Toffit know you are available right away.”

Hah! Would that he’d known when he penned that rejection note that he’d be without a job now. Lacing his fingers together, he cracked his knuckles. “Shortly after Mr. Toffit sent me the offer, I wrote to decline it, so I do not feel like I can go crawling back.”

“Of course you can. Besides”—she wagged her finger—“that smacks of pride, sir.”

“Hubris has nothing to do with it. That is simply how business operates.”

“Humph. Maybe.” Languidly, she lifted her arm and nibbled on the nail of her index finger.

He pulled it away.

And when their eyes met, they shared a smile that felt intimately more passionate than it should have.

“Well then, Mr. Webb, since you are now a man of leisure—leastwise for the time being—I have a perfectly wonderful idea.” She rose, a merry twinkle sparking in her gaze.

Which was wholly infectious. If she told him her notion was to go to the moon and back, he’d sweep her off her feet here and now and give it a go.

Instead, he settled for a simple cock of his head. “An idea, eh? Do tell.”

She fairly bounced on her toes. “How would you like to escort me to London?”