with us, as he should. It is truly horrible of him. I will not stand for it,’ Evie added, in the same playful scolding tone she had been using on St Aldric.
‘If the good doctor wishes to stay at an inn, it is not our place to correct him,’ Thorne answered, putting the blame on Sam.
‘Of course it is,’ Evie said, unbothered. ‘We are his family. I will allow nothing less than his sending for his baggage and moving back to his old room for the duration of his stay in London. I will have the space aired and made up for him immediately.’ She rose and set the kitten on the bench, twining her arm with her father’s. Though she might be his affectionate and loving daughter, she had a will of iron and was used to getting her way. If Sam did not go soon, she would work on Thorne without mercy until he gave her what she wanted. ‘Come along, Papa, and add your voice to mine. I am sure Mrs Abbott will be quite cross with me for the sudden change in plans.’ She was fairly dragging her father by the arm and back towards the house, lecturing him on hospitality while she was neglecting both her guests.
She tossed a smile in their direction, as though that would be more than enough to keep them, until she returned. ‘If you gentlemen would spare our company? You must know each other better.’
‘Of course,’ St Aldric said, speaking for both of them. ‘I am sure that Dr Hastings can entertain me in your absence.’
‘I will leave Diana with you as well,’ Evie said, as though she was not sure that Sam’s company would suffice on its own. Then she fixed him with a cool stare. ‘And do not move from this spot, Samuel Hastings, without taking leave of me. I still have not forgiven you for the last time you did.’
Nor had he forgiven himself. This time, he owed her a goodbye, if nothing else. He gave a grudging nod of agreement and she returned to take her father’s arm. ‘Do not fear. I will not be long.’
Chapter Four
‘What is the meaning of this rudeness, Evelyn? You left St Aldric alone, when he came specifically to see you.’ At her side, Evelyn could feel her father puffing in indignation like a tropical fish.
She smiled at him and added a loving hug and a doting look, ashamed of herself for this blatant manipulation. She had been taught by Aunt Jordan that a lady must use honey to catch flies. But sometimes she could not help but envy men their ability to catch flies with a reasonable argument. ‘I did not leave St Aldric alone, Father. Sam was there.’
‘That hardly signifies.’ His grumbling was a last desperate attempt to rein her in. But since he had not been successful in twenty-one years, she had no real fear of punishment.
‘I believe it does,’ she said, quietly, still smiling, but renewing her grip on his arm and leading him down the hall to the library, shutting the door behind them so that there was no chance for a servant to hear what she wished to say. Then she checked the window that looked out on the garden to be sure that it was closed. No word of their conversation must reach the men talking there until she had confirmed her suspicions.
‘A physician and a duke?’ Father was shaking his head like a dog worrying a bone. ‘The only reason that the two of them should speak is if the peer is ill, and you know for a fact that he is not. Unless … You have no fears, have you?’ As usual, her father was thinking ahead to a future that she had not yet agreed to.
‘Are you worried about my widowhood before I am even a bride?’ she said with a raised eyebrow. ‘It is nothing like that. St Aldric is perfectly healthy, as is obvious to all who see him. But Sam is a member of the family. I think it is important that the two get to know each other. Don’t you?’ She looked expectantly at her father, hoping that he would not force her to badger the truth from him.
‘If you assume that Hastings will play a part in your future, you harbour a misapprehension. We have discussed it and he is leaving London shortly. I doubt you will see him again.’
The finality of this statement was in direct opposition to her desires, so she ignored it. ‘Hastings?’ she chided. ‘Really, Father. Now you are the one who is being rude. When did you cease to think of him as Sam? And for what reason? If there is some breach between the two of you, then I beg you to heal it, for my sake.’
‘There is no breach,’ her father insisted, probably afraid that she would resort to tears. ‘But we have an understanding, he and I. And what has been done is all for your sake, I assure you.’
As if she needed protection from Sam. The idea was quite ridiculous and not worth mentioning. ‘I am more concerned with Sam and his future, Father. So should you be.’
‘He is seeing to that well enough, without my help,’ her father said. Perhaps he was simply hurt that the boy he had raised could manage to prosper without him.
‘His success is a credit to your early tutelage, I am sure.’ She must turn the topic, for she wished to close the breach and not widen it. Her father appeared somewhat mollified at the thought that he had contributed to Sam’s obvious success. ‘And I see no reason that he cannot stay here with us, while he is in London.’
‘He does not wish to,’ her father said, firmly.
‘I am happy to see that you have no objection,’ she said with another smile. One thing did not imply the other. But it was better to let him think her illogical than to allow argument. Then she added, as though in afterthought, ‘Once he is here, it will give you a chance to tell him what you know of his true parentage.’
‘I?’ That had caught him unawares, she was sure. He was flustered out of countenance and almost beyond speech. It took several seconds for him to manage a proper denial. ‘I know nothing. And whatever Samuel Hastings has told you on the subject is clearly a lie.’
‘He … told me?’ She gave a bat of her lashes to reinforce the innocence of her discovery. ‘He did not tell me anything. But I needed no great wit to draw my conclusion. I have my own eyes, if I wish to see the truth. You had best give him the whole story, if you have not already.’
‘I have no idea what you mean,’ said her father, in the slow and deliberate way that people sometimes used to deny the obvious.
Eve sighed and gave up on honey, preferring to catch this particular fly with a swatter. ‘Then I will explain it to you. I have had suspicions for quite some time. But it was only until just now, in the garden, that I was sure. When they are seen together by others, someone will remark on the resemblance between them. From there it is only a short step to seeing that the Duke of St Aldric and Dr Samuel Hastings are as alike as brothers.’
‘Evie, you mustn’t meddle in this.’ It was the same weak prohibition that he tried whenever she stepped out of bounds.
Since she knew there were no consequences to disagreeing, it would meet with the same lack of success. She continued. ‘You were a good friend of the old duke when he was alive, were you not?’
‘Of course, but …’
‘And mightn’t he have asked you a favour, at one point in your life, when you and mother feared that you would be childless?’ In case she had been too direct, she larded the question with more feminine sweetness. ‘I only ask because I know there will be gossip.’
‘There will be none if Hastings leaves, as he is promised to,’ her father said stubbornly. He had not affirmed or denied her theory. But evasiveness was an answer.
‘It is hardly fair to Sam, if you make him leave London just because of the duke.’ Nor was it fair to her. She would not lose him again, over something that should not matter to anyone. ‘If the estrangement between you is nothing more than a fear of making this revelation, you had best get it over with. Since I love both men, I mean to keep them close to me for as long as I am able.’ She smiled again and offered a bait that she doubted her father could resist. ‘I am sure that St Aldric would welcome the news. He has spoken frequently of the burden of being the only remaining member of his family. You would gain much favour by telling him what he longs to hear.’
‘Revelation