PROLOGUE
Devonshire—1806
Lady Evangeline Eastfield rose and dressed, not bothering to call her maid. She was usually up early most mornings, even before many of the servants began to stir. Evie enjoyed walking Valwood Park, seeing the sun come up. She would dress in breeches to do so, along with one of her brother David’s old topcoats, since it was easier to don the garb of a man without assistance. Only after her return home and her bath would she allow her maid to place her in demure gowns, her hair dressed properly and not tumbling to her waist.
As she slipped from the house, she had a destination in mind this morning and headed to the bridge which spanned the stream separating her family’s land from that of the Duke of Wentworth’s. The duke and Evie’s father, the Earl of Valwood, had been close friends since the cradle. Her own brother and Hatch, the duke’s elder son, were the best of friends, as well. Today, Hatch would leave them, reporting for duty in His Majesty’s Army in the fight against Bonaparte.
And Evie wanted to see her friend once last time before he departed.
The two families had dined together at Davenport Hall last night, a merry group telling stories that spanned decades. But Evie wanted to say her own, private goodbye to Hatch.
Within minutes, she had reached the bridge, spotting Hatch standing in its center, gazing out. He didn’t bother to glance at her as she joined him, keeping his eyes to where the sun would soon make its appearance.
“You knew I would be here,” he finally said.
She turned to face him, seeing how dashing he looked in his regimental colors. “Yes, Lieutenant. Will it be Lieutenant Davenport—or Lieutenant Hatchley?”
His gaze met hers, his eyes glinting with a bit of mischief. “Since the Earl of Hatchley is my courtesy title, I believe I will stick with Lieutenant Davenport. Most of my fellow officers, though from the aristocracy, do not hold titles themselves. No need to stick out like a sore thumb.”
Evie playfully punched him in the arm. “You will always stand above others, Hatch, and not because of your height. You are a true leader. Brave, honorable, and wise beyond your years.”
He smiled. “I am glad you have such a high opinion of me, Evie.” Sighing, he added, “I shall miss you.”
Though Hatch was one and twenty, the same as her brother, and six years her senior, they had always been close.
“Thank you for letting me always tag along with you and David. You’ve taught me so much. How to swim. Shoot. Ride. I know you are David’s best friend, Hatch, but you are mine, too.”
He smoothed her hair. “You are forever a breath of fresh air, Evie. I never minded your company.” He laughed. “And sometimes preferred it over David’s.”
She knew he was teasing her now. “Have you and Your Grace made your peace?”
The duke had been furious when his heir decided to enter the army upon graduating from Cambridge, but he had seemed to accept things last night.
“Papa is only mildly annoyed with me now, a nice change from when he roared that he wished he could disown me.” Hatch’s tone grew serious. “I feel I must fight for my country, Evie. Good leaders are needed. This war with Bonaparte has already gone on far too long. He threatens not only our way of life—but the balance of Europe hangs with the outcome of this conflict.”
Hatch chuckled. “Besides, could you imagine Elias going off to war?”
Evie laughed. “Elias cannot stand a wrinkle in his trousers, much less for his hair to be mussed. Your younger brother is a charming man, but he is not one for war.”
They both turned back to gaze across to where the sun now broke the horizon. Hatch slipped an arm about her shoulder, and Evie leaned into him. She would miss this man dreadfully.
“I’ll write,” she promised.
“No, you won’t.”
“I will,” she insisted.
“You will soon make your come-out and forget all about writing. You will wed and have a bevy of brats by the time I return to England.”
Evie snorted. “First of all, I am only ten and five and will not make my come-out for a good three years, Lieutenant. As for a husband, don’t tell Papa, but I plan to have at least three Seasons before I consider taking one.”
“Three?” he asked, laughing.
“Yes. I have spent my entire life in Devonshire, being told what to do. By my parents. My governess. I want to live a little, Hatch. The Season is all about having fun and making new friends. Experiencing life. I shall go to balls and routs. Venetian breakfasts and the theater. Garden parties and musicales. And card parties.”
Hatch smiled fondly at her. “I believe you will enjoy your come-out immensely, Evie. You are full of life. You will attract all kinds of gentlemen. They will fall madly in love with you.”
She sniffed. “Love is not for me,” she declared.
“You are not interested in a love match?” he asked.
“I don’t believe in them, Hatch. My parents—and yours—are not in love. They have amiable relationships, however. I think the notion of love is foolish. When I do finally decide to settle down and become a boring matron with a house full of children, I want a man who will like me. Respect me. And let me go my own way. Pursue my own interests. Love, if it exists, would simply muddy those waters. No, I will find an interesting man who doesn’t gamble. One who will enjoy my company and that of our children. But love is not something I foresee in my future.”
“Then I cannot wait to meet this future husband of yours,” Hatch said lightly. “I hope he will treasure you as much as I do.”
Evie gazed up at her friend, a constant in her life. “I will miss you, Hatch. And I won’t think of wedding any gentleman who would take exception to our friendship.”
He smiled at her, the sun now striking his face, lighting up his golden mane of hair and causing his startling blue eyes to gleam.
“I will miss you as well, Evie. I cannot promise I will write you. I know not what war truly is like, and I will have many responsibilities as an officer. But I will read your every letter. They will bring me comfort.”
Hatch paused. “It’s time I returned home and told my parents and Elias goodbye. Take care, little one.”
He clasped her shoulders, his large hands warm, and pressed a long kiss to her brow. Evie closed her eyes, taking in the moment.
Then his lips moved and touched her own briefly.
“I won’t say goodbye,” he told her. “I will simply say farewell.”
Evie gazed up at him, her lips tingling, an odd feeling running through her. “Until we meet again.”
She turned, determined to be the one to walk away before she cried, knowing her tears would upset him.
And with every step Evie Eastfield took away from him, she knew she would always remember the sweetness of his kiss.
CHAPTER 1
London—August 1812
Evie thanked and dismissed her maid before staring into the mirror, assessing her appearance. She studied her image carefully, thinking how she had now been through three Seasons. The first had been exciting, everything new and wonderful. The people. The parties. Her wardrobe. The second year, some of the polish had worn off, and she wasn’t quite as impressed with Polite Society or the events she attended. Worse, she made only one new friend, as opposed to three good ones that first year, all of whom had wed at Season’s end.
Now in her third Season, Evie was done with the ton. Everyone talked about the same, dull things, such as the weather, or they gossiped viciously about anyone not in their immediate circle, savaging reputations for sport. She found herself bored. Uninterested.
And ready to go home to the green hills and coast of Devonshire, where her heart lay.
Since Devon was home, she decided she must wed a gentleman from her home county. That considerably narrowed the list of eligible bachelors, but Evie was a practical woman and had already picked out her groom. She would propose to her neighbor, Elias Davenport, tonight.
Elias was handsome, charming, and as affable as a man could be. Although she had spent more of her childhood with his brother Hatch, they had grown up together and were immensely comfortable in one another’s company. While Elias held no title, his father had provided his younger son with a smart townhouse in London, as well as a quarterly allowance. Better yet, Elias would never think to interfere with anything Evie planned. He would lead his life; she would lead her own. He would be the perfect husband for her.
She simply had to convince him to marry her.
Tonight was one of the last events of the Season, which would officially close in three days. While Evie had her pick of beaux over the last few years, most of the men who paid attention to her were tiresome and annoying, not to mention overbearing. While they paid her pretty compliments, she didn’t think a single one of them was interested in her as a person. Rather, they were interested in her large dowry. She shuddered to think what her life would be if she wed one of them.
“It must be tonight,” she said aloud, knowing her parents grew weary of her unmarried status. Mama had even worried aloud that Evie would soon be on the shelf. She was afraid if she didn’t take the initiative and determine her own fate, Papa might get the notion to arrange a marriage for her.
Determination filled her as she left her bedchamber and went downstairs, riding the short way to Lord and Lady Tucker’s house with her parents. As her mother babbled on, Evie’s gaze met her father’s. He shrugged and looked out the window. She did the same.
Always popular at a ball, a bevy of gentlemen flocked to her, eager to sign her programme. Thankfully, one of them was Elias. They always danced one set together, both of them graceful dancers.
“May I?” Elias asked, reaching for her dance card.
“Could we possibly share the supper dance?” she asked quietly.
He looked puzzled but scrawled his name beside it. “You wish to speak to me about something, Lady Evangeline?”
She merely smiled. “I look forward to dancing with you, Mr. Davenport.”
When the supper dance arrived, they partnered together. Evie knew they drew looks from others. They would be a handsome couple for years to come, and her heart told her this was the right decision.
Unfortunately, Elias led them to a table of his friends, and she said, “I was hoping for a bit of privacy.”
Frowning, he said, “Might we speak after supper? We could stroll the gardens before the orchestra begins playing again.”
Wanting to accommodate him, she agreed. While she wasn’t fond of the crowd Elias ran with, it wasn’t as if she were wedding them. She was pleasant to all, her usual effervescence on display.
When she finished eating, she waited patiently. Elias did not let her down.
Turning to her, he said, “The supper room is overheated. Would you care to take a stroll in the moonlight, my lady?”
“That would be most agreeable,” Evie replied, rising and placing her arm on his sleeve.
Once outside, they moved along the terrace. A few other couples had the same idea, but Elias steered her to the far end.
“What did you wish to discuss, Evie?”
She steeled herself, not certain how he would react to her bold idea.
“I have not seen you courting any particular young lady, Elias. Has no woman tugged at your heartstrings?”
He laughed. “You know me better than that. Papa was pushing for me to wed before he took ill last September and left us. Though Mama has taken up the banner, I do not think I will wed for several more years. I enjoy my freedom too much.”
“What if you could have marriage—and freedom?” she challenged.
His brows knit together. “Forgive me, for I am clueless. What are you saying, Evie?”
“It is time for me to wed, Elias. I would rather it be someone I know and like.” She paused, letting her words sink in, and then saw understanding dawn on his face.
“You wish for us to wed?” he asked, incredulous.
“Think about it,” she said. “We already know all there is to know about one another, so there would be no surprises in that regard. Our families are close. I feel at home at Davenport Hall, just as you do at Valwood Park. Better yet, we can be frank with one another. I am not that fond of the ton and life in town, Elias. I much prefer the country, whereas you loathe the quiet and enjoy being in London. Can’t you see—we are a perfect match.”
Nodding, he said, “You are suggesting we could lead very separate lives.”
“I am. Of course, I want children. You would have to do your duty in that regard, but I would prefer to raise them in the country under my hand. You know your mother and I would always welcome you home. Hatch, too.”
The thought of Hatch gave her pause for a moment. She had not seen her old friend since he left for war three years ago. When the Duke of Wentworth passed last autumn, a letter was sent to the warfront, summoning Hatch home to take up his ducal title. From what Evie gathered, it had taken months to reach him, and Hatch had only returned to England in May. He had gone straight to Davenport Hall to assume his duties and had sent word to his mother and brother that he would not partake in this year’s Season.
For a moment, she thought what Hatch would think of her scheme to wed his brother. The new duke knew what a strong will Evie possessed, so it probably would not surprise him to know she arranged her own marriage, down to proposing to her future fiancé.
Elias grew thoughtful. “Your offer is very appealing, Evie. We get on well and always have. While you didn’t pay much attention to me when you were younger, I have enjoyed being in your company ever since your come-out.”
To encourage him, she said, “We do enjoy one another’s company. I would be happy to come to town during the Season and stay as long as you wish, accompanying you to events. I know, though, that you would most likely choose to remain in town a good part of the year, while I would be happy to remain in the country. You could pursue your own interests, and I could do the same.”
He grinned. “It would be nice, having a beautiful, thoughtful wife who let me live as I choose.” Taking her hand, Elias added, “I would never embarrass you, Evie. I would be discreet in taking lovers.”
Feeling her cheeks heat, she said, “I appreciate that effort. You would be expected to be home for events, such as our children’s births. Possibly their birthdays. But I am willing to give you a great deal of freedom, Elias. If you promise to give the same to me in return.”
He took her hand, raising it to his lips, kissing her fingers tenderly. “I think it would be jolly good to have a wife I liked. Who was actually a friend. Who let me be myself and have my own friends, as well.”
“Remember, Elias, that I expect the same. While I have no plans to take a lover, I want to follow my own interests.”
Beaming at her, he said, “Then we should make this official. It doesn’t do for you to have offered for me.”
Dropping to one knee—which Evie knew would draw the attention of other couples on the terrace—Elias asked, sincerity in his eyes and voice, “Lady Evangeline, would you make me the happiest of men and marry me?”
For a moment, Evie paused, hoping she was doing the right thing. “Yes, Mr. Davenport. I would be happy to become your wife.”
He sprang to his feet and kissed her lightly. As she expected, Evie felt nothing. She had kissed several men over the last three years. Not one time had anything stirred within her.
Unlike long ago . . .
Shoving that thought aside, she smiled at her future husband. “I am glad we came to our arrangement, Elias. It is a respectable match. One where we do not have to worry about love or such nonsense.”
“Shall we go inside and speak to your parents?” He glanced about. “It seems we are already being whispered about as it is.”
Evie saw they had gained the notice of everyone present on the terrace. “Yes, we should speak to my parents and your mother,” she agreed.
As they moved toward the ballroom doors, a few called congratulations to them, and she smiled graciously. Inside, Elias said he would fetch her father, while Evie went to find her mother and the Duchess of Wentworth. They were seated together, ready to watch the dancing which was about to begin.
“Might I ask you to come with me?” she asked, drawing a perplexed look from her mother and a knowing one from Her Grace.
Her father and Elias joined them. From the look on Papa’s face, she could tell Elias had formally asked him for her hand.
Papa smiled at her, moving to kiss her cheek. “Well, Evangeline. I hear you and Elias wish to share some good news with us.” He turned to his wife. “Look lively, Lady Valwood. Your daughter is about to become betrothed.”
Mama gasped. “Oh, Evangeline. How wonderful!”
Mama hugged her tightly, and then the Duchess of Wentworth embraced her, saying, “My husband always wanted for our families to be joined. Not only in friendship, but in marriage.” Then quietly, the duchess added, “I only hope you are choosing the right son of mine to wed.”
Color flooded Evie’s cheeks. “I am most happy to be engaged to Elias, Your Grace.”
“We must start planning for the wedding,” Mama declared, looking at her and Elias. “Is early October agreeable to the two of you?”
“Whatever Evie wishes,” Elias said diplomatically. “I aim to please her always.”
“Thank you,” she told him. To her mother, Evie said, “October would be wonderful, Mama. Elias plans to stay in town another month, but we can return to Devonshire and plan the wedding.”
“Then we shall leave tomorrow,” Mama said. “You must come, too, Your Grace. Your advice will be much desired.”
“Go see if Lord Tucker will allow you to make the announcement, Valwood,” Her Grace commanded.
Papa went scurrying off, and soon the entire ballroom was aware of the wedding to take place between Lady Evangeline Eastfield and Mr. Elias Davenport.
Evie slipped into bed just before dawn. Satisfaction filled her. She would have a husband who was malleable. One who would let her do as she pleased and give her the children she wanted. She fell asleep quickly, but was restless as she slumbered.
Because for the first time ever, she dreamed of Hatch.
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