The Anonymous Amanuensis Read online

  "I truly do not mind, Mr. Mosely. In fact, I think I will be more comfortable here than in the dining room. I find that this masquerade is growing tiresome, much as I like my position. In some ways, I will be glad to be done with it and don my skirts again."

  "Now that don't sound like the spirited Eve I know. Buck up, lass. All will come right, sooner or later."

  Eve sighed. "If only I could believe it would, Mr. Mosely,"

  "I can see ye need something to cheer ye up. What would you say to a ride tomorrow afternoon? Yer ankle's 'ealed right and tight, and ye've been indoors too long. Enough to give anyone the megrims."

  "Oh, could we? I should like that above all things." Eve's gloomy mood lightened immensely at the thought of getting on Raspberry's back again.

  "I'll fetch ye directly after luncheon. Now, I best get me back to the kitchen. Ackroyd 'as the knack of raising the girls' 'ackles. It's up to me to keep the peace until dinner's over."

  "I always thought that Ackroyd, for all his stuffiness, was as big a misogynist as his master."

  "If that means 'e don't like the ladies, you're in the right of it. It's a good thing we don't have the girls 'ere regular, or we'd always being replacing maids and such. I'll see you tomorrow."

  Eve remained in her bedchamber all evening, listening to the music from the small orchestra waft through her open window. She was lonely and downcast, and admittedly immersed in self-pity. It is not that I wish to dance, but that I miss the company.

  On the heels of this assertion, she admitted to herself that she did wish to dance, to laugh, to flirt, to behave exactly as a young woman of her age and birth should.

  She wanted a silk ball gown, an ivory fan, and satin slippers.

  She wanted a handsome gentleman to bow over her hand, his eyes alight with admiration for her loveliness.

  Most of all, she wanted to be in Penny's place, a young girl at her first grown-up party, eyes sparkling with excitement and cheeks warm from the compliments on the lips of her waltz partner.

  Eve stood at the moonlit window with tears streaming down her face. Not even the soothing strains of a waltz soothed her.

  "Fool!" she whispered. "You chose this path. You wanted to be independent. Now you must pay the price of your independence." She stared out at the silvery landscape. "But it hurts! Oh! It hurts so much!"

  * * * *

  Breakfast with Tom was nearly as uncomfortable as the previous afternoon's visit had been. He was still convinced that Eve was not being treated as he thought she should, that she was overworked. He promised her that if her treatment had not improved by the time the Quinton household returned to London, he would have something to say about it.

  At Eve's query as to what gave him the right to say anything about her relationship with her employer, he stammered, then burst out with, "Damn it, Eve! You have no more sense than God gave a goose. You have no family, no other friends. If that don't give me the right to concern myself with your welfare, then nothing does. Now take care of yourself and I will see you in a month or so. And no more falls, you hear?" He shook her hand in farewell.

  She wished with all her heart she could hug him. He was such a good friend. And so protective.

  Mosely, again standing watch in the corridor outside, remarked softly, "That's a fine young man."

  "I know it, Mr. Mosely. How I wish I could have told him he will never see me again. I shall miss him." She went back into the office and picked up some letters, but might have well have been holding blank sheets, so blinded was she by tears.

  Through diligent effort, she had pulled herself together by the time Penny came bursting into the room, full of news.

  "Oh, Eve, it was so wonderful! Lord Arduin danced with me twice and called me a 'taking little thing'! He is so handsome. And Lady Marsten said that I should take nicely when I make my comeout. She is very nice, but her husband is awfully quiet. Oh, and Mr. Patterson was so very amusing. He has promised to take me to a balloon ascension when I come to London."

  "So you like him, Penny," Eve said. "I am glad, for he is a fine person."

  "Oh, yes, I do. I can see why you warned me not to develop a tendre for him, though, Eve. He is so very handsome. And so nice too!" She pouted. "But he acted just like a brother! Not a single compliment."

  The pout turned to a giggle. "Now Mr. Thompson, he was full of compliments--my hair style, my gown, my eyes, my dancing." Penny fell silent, her usually vivacious expression changed to a thoughtful one. "Do you know, Eve, I know I am not the paragon that Mr. Thompson would have made me believe. I know I am not beautiful. My mirror is all too honest. And surely there are many prettier girls among the ton. But Mr. Thompson insisted that I would put them all in the shade when I come to London."

  "You will meet many like him there, Penny. I believe it is not uncommon for gentlemen to believe that compliments are the only conversation desired by young ladies."

  "Well, and I wish they would not! I enjoyed Mr. Patterson's conversation much more. He had something to say!"

  "Hold to that opinion, Penny, and you will go on well during your season. And you will not be likely to be taken in by fribbles and fortune hunters, for it is a certainty that you will encounter all too many of them," Eve advised, relieved the girl was beginning to show good sense about her relations with gentlemen.

  "Fortune hunters? Surely a fortune hunter would pass me by, Eve. Seabrooke is well known to be a meager estate."

  "And your brother is well known to be disgustingly rich, young lady. That will make you a target for every gazetted and would-be fortune hunter in London."

  "Is Jamie really all that rich? I knew he was successful, but..." Penny's face showed her disbelief.

  "Very. I suggest you have a talk with him. He has told me he intends to dower you well. You should know your worth to a prospective husband so you will not be tempted to throw yourself away."

  "Jamie, rich! I can scarcely believe it. And all along I had thought I would be forced to marry for money and never for love. I must go and speak with him immediately."

  Eve watched the girl dash from the room, hoping she had not done badly to let Penny know how well she was fixed. It was none of Eve's concern, after all.

  No, a girl should be aware of her circumstances, be they rich or poor. It had been irresponsible of Quinton not to have told her.

  Mosely came shortly after luncheon to fetch Eve for the promised ride. Raspberry was waiting by the front door, but so was Regal. She looked at Mosely in surprise. "'Is Nibs, 'e has a notion to ride with ye, Eve. You and me, we'll go out another day."

  Eve could not mount Raspberry without assistance, for her ankle was still weak and her arm useless for pulling herself into the saddle. Mosely lifted her until she could swing her leg over. As she settled herself, Quinton come out the door.

  "All ready," he asked. At Eve's nod, he mounted and led the way down the drive. "I though we would ride in Oatfield's woods if you do not think it is too far. I would prefer that you not be seen on the more public roads."

  Eve found herself wishing to stick her tongue out at his blue clad back. Such stuffy concern for proprieties, and for someone who was to depart forever in less than a week. Sometimes she wanted to do violence to his person, so angry did he make her.

  She soon forgot her pique as they rode slowly along a shaded lane and into the Oatfield wood. A number of narrow trails wandered among the oaks and beeches there and Eve thoroughly enjoyed her surroundings.

  Quinton was forced to ride before her most of the time, due to the narrowness of the lanes, and he spoke but seldom. They had been riding for about an hour, following first one path then another, when the woods opened and they found themselves in a small, sunlit glade. Eve exclaimed at its beauty.

  "Do you think, sir, we might stop here for a short spell? It is so lovely, and I must confess that I am tiring."

  "Of course." Quinton obligingly turned his horse aside and Raspberry followed. "Shall I help you dismount?" he asked when h
e had tied the horses' reins loosely to a tree.

  "If you please," Eve answered. "I do not think I can do so without assistance. My arm..." She stopped as Quinton's arms reached toward her. He grasped her about the waist and pulled her from Raspberry's back. But instead of releasing her, once her feet were firmly upon the ground, he continued to hold her, his hands under her coat, tight upon the waistband of her trousers.

  Eve looked into his eyes and was surprised at the glow in their gray depths. They drew even closer to her own, until his lips met hers, softly at first and gentle, then with increasing pressure.

  Her own lips parted as his kiss grew ever more insistent. His probing tongue teased her teeth apart and entered. Eve responded, hesitantly at first, then with passion, until her own tongue played with his as it sought the depths of her mouth. She pressed herself against him, wanting to be closer, much closer. His hands slid lower to grasp her buttocks, pulling her against his hard body.

  An eternity later, he raised his head, pulling his lips from hers. Eve's eyes slowly opened and she looked up at him, still lost in the ecstasy of his kiss.

  An instant later he was holding her away from him, his hands painfully hard on her upper arms. "Damn it, Eve!" he almost shouted. "This cannot be! I should not have done that."

  "Oh, be quiet!" she yelled back at him. "Had I not enjoyed being kissed, I should have struggled. As I did not, you need not apologize."

  She jerked herself free, staggered backwards several steps. "Furthermore, I am getting very tired of gentlemen saying 'Damn it, Eve!' to me. It was beyond enough coming from Chas. Then Tom started saying it. And now you!"

  Losing her balance, she fell on her bottom on the leaf-strewn ground. He legs stuck out in front of her gracelessly, and she had a mental picture of how ridiculous she must appear. The vision increased her anger. "You'll be rid of me very soon, and in the meantime you will never, never say that to me again. Do you hear me?"

  Hearing how her own voice had risen in pitch and volume, she clapped both hands over her mouth. What a fool I am! Now he will know I am as much a shrew as his mother.

  Quinton went to one knee beside her. Gently he took her chin in his hand and forced her to look up at him. "Eve, I should not have kissed you. You are an unmarried female under my protection and I had no right to force myself upon you. That was why I cursed at you." His eyes no longer glowed and his voice was cool and somewhat impersonal. "A gentleman never offers such an insult to the ladies of his household. Will you forgive me?"

  Eve looked deeply into his eyes, hoping she would see something other than concern and regret.

  She was disappointed.

  With his assistance, she stood. Leaves stuck to her riding breeches and the tail of her coat, but she ignored them.

  He made a motion as if to brush the leaves away, then drew his arm back.

  I should not have kissed him back. He cannot bear to touch me now.

  "No apology is necessary, Mr. Quinton," she said, determined he should not outdo her in icy politeness. "Nor should you dwell upon your actions. I assure you I took no offense." She hobbled to Raspberry, for she must have twisted her still-weak ankle when she lost her balance. Loosening the reins, she attempted to mount but her splinted arm prevented her from doing so.

  Hating the necessity, she turned to face him. "Sir, if you would be so kind as to lift me onto my horse, I will return to Fallowfeld." Her heart was cold in her breast, for he clearly regretted giving in to momentary lust.

  And lust it was, my girl. You will do well to remember that. What else could he feel for you, a woman who's shown herself to be entirely without principles?

  James assisted Eve to mount and watched her as she rode away down the narrow trail. Why had he kissed her? And having kissed her, what demon had possessed him that he'd treated her like a common doxy? He had brought her out today in hopes the constraint between them for the past weeks would be eased. While he had not changed his mind about sending Eve away, he sincerely regretted the loss of his friendship.

  "Her friendship, you simpleton," he muttered. "Eve is a girl."

  A woman! his mind corrected.

  "And there lies the problem," James admitted.

  He had intended to apologize to her for accusing her of more than a simple deception, motivated by her need to make her own way in the world. God knew, he didn't blame her for preferring the well-paid and far more prestigious position of secretary to that of governess.

  Look at poor Miss Comstock, some sort of a distant relative. James knew she had rarely dined with family at Seabrooke, yet she was a lady born. And that is the fate you believe Eve should have accepted?

  This morning he had decided to ride with Eve so he might deliver his apology in private. Instead, he had mauled her and kissed her.

  And such a kiss. It had shaken him to his very core. But Eve...such an innocent. Her initial response to the kiss had shown that she was as lacking in amorous experience as the merest babe.

  An errant thought, that her subsequent response had been anything but innocent, he quickly quelled. James knew he had offered unforgivable insult to her. She would never wish to see him again. Vowing that he would avoid her company during the remainder of her stay at Fallowfeld, James mounted Regal and turned his head toward home. He indulged in mental self-recrimination all the way home.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Eve was lying on her bed, half-asleep, when Mosely delivered her dinner tray. Her eyes were stuck shut with dried tears and her throat was raw. She had wept more in the past few weeks than in the entire rest of her life, she believed. Certainly she seemed to dissolve into tears at the slightest provocation.

  Her reply to his cheerful greeting and inquiry about her ride were quiet and unenthusiastic. He was the last person she was inclined to confide in, since he and Quinton seemed to have few secrets between them. He left the tray, advising her to make an early night of it, and went away, leaving her alone again.

  Eve was tired, and depressed as well. She had returned to her room, following her escape from Quinton, full of anger at his so casual treatment of her. How dare he kiss her as he had, without caring for her? Her lips still burned from his kiss and she was overcome with longing for him. But she also felt used and cast aside.

  She loved him so much, yet he seemed to be irreparably angry with her. She knew he held her in such a degree of disrespect that he thought nothing of mauling her about. He had kissed her with an abandon that, in her opinion, should have been reserved for his mistress, not for one he cared nothing for.

  After picking at her dinner, Eve sternly took herself in hand and delivered a harsh self-scold. She reminded herself over and over that she had always known her love for Quinton was destined to remain ever unrequited. Now she must put him out of her mind, where she had put all her dreams that could never come true.

  It was time for her to put aside all childish hopes and ambitions and resign herself to a life of servitude and boredom with Alfred and Charlotte.

  You are not being forced to return to Elmwood. You have enough put by that you could go back to London. Mrs. Storridge would give you a place to stay until you find a post at a school or as a governess somewhere.

  Somehow she had not the energy to even consider such a move. Elmwood, right now, seemed a refuge, where she could merely exist and never have to determine her own fate again.

  Mosely returned to pick up her tray. Eve exchanged pleasantries with him, but was grateful when he hurried away. She was restless. As if there were something she had forgotten to do.

  She felt somehow confined in her tight undershirt and trousers. Although it was early, perhaps she should retire. Her day had been long and trying, after all. Moving slowly, for she had little energy, she disrobed and slipped into her nightshirt. The prospect of sleep appealed to her more than did sitting awake with her confused thoughts circling round and round in her mind.

  But blessed oblivion eluded her. After an hour of turning and twisting, of winding the sh
eet about herself, then having to unwind it, she gave up. The room had turned chill. Eve built up the fire and sat on the hearthrug. Soon the leaping flames made her heavy robe oppressive, so she removed it and returned to the hearthrug, clad only in her light cotton nightshirt. She deliberately blanked her mind, finally finding a measure of peace as she stared brooding into the leaping fire.

  The red and blue flames seemed to be forming a picture. Gradually she made out Quinton's face in the midst of the fire, his red hair glowing as if in sunlight, his gray eyes gleaming with the passion they had held that afternoon. His thin, mobile mouth was quirked in a smile. Would she never be free of the man?

  Not if I were to live a century or more!

  James Quinton was lodged firmly in her heart. To try to dislodge him would be like excising part of her very soul.

  How could she bear life without him? Was there not some way she could be with him?

  Even though she knew such thoughts were futile, Eve mused upon possibilities. Her first fantasy had him bursting into the room, crying that he could not live without her. She must marry him immediately, tomorrow!

  Then she envisioned herself weeping as she mounted into the stagecoach at Colchester, bound for Elmwood. Suddenly Quinton came dashing up on Regal and tore open the door. He pulled her out of the coach, shouting that she must not leave, but would marry him.

  Once again she saw the smug smile when he had spoke of his mistress, but now he gazed lovingly into her eyes as he presented her with a magnificent collar of diamonds. Eve was the most delightful mistress he had ever had.

  Mistress! Would he have her as his mistress? Could she bring herself to sink so low? Perhaps she could, if the result was to be with James.

  Eve had always believed implicitly in the sanctity of marriage. She had never approved of the common practice of keeping a mistress that so many married gentlemen indulged in. Since learning of Prudence, she had found herself holding similar views for unmarried men.

  So how could she even consider doing such a thing?