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With one final kiss, Manchester left. Evangeline watched him exit the house and wandered into the drawing room. The fire had been made up and was burning brightly, warming the room. They had been settled in front of it, relaxing with each other after dinner, when Manchester received a message that he had to attend an important meeting and his presence would be greatly appreciated. Manchester wasn’t one to turn down these things, especially at short notice, so he had reluctantly gone.

  Evangeline didn’t like it when he left her alone. They had courted for two months before they married, and she always felt as though Manchester walked away with part of her heart each time. Despite the fact she knew he would be coming back, and it was for good, Evangeline still didn’t like it.

  She sat on the couch and settled back, rubbing her hand over her belly as she looked into the flames. Three months a duchess. It felt like a strange dream. Evangeline had entered her first season a year late and hadn’t expected anyone to find her suitable for a wife. But the duke, her senior by eight years, had seen her across the room on the first dance of the season and had sought her out. Evangeline knew she was the envy of other young ladies in Society to have caught the eye of the most eligible bachelor in the country. And she enjoyed it.

  Because now Manchester was hers. And Evangeline hadn’t done anything more than give him a smile.

  Soon, it wouldn’t be the two of them. There would be three. Evangeline wasn’t completely sure, but she had a feeling that she was with child. It would explain why she was feeling unwell lately. Evangeline had never felt like this before. It had to be that.

  Later in the week, when the doctor came by, she would have it checked. Only then would she tell Manchester about the news. There was no need to get his hopes up just yet, not if she really was ill and there was no baby coming. Manchester had always wanted children; he would be delighted.

  Evangeline couldn’t wait to be a mother.

  She was startled out of her thoughts when the door opened and Harold, the duke’s middle-aged butler, entered the room. Evangeline sat up when she saw the frown on the usually stoic man’s face.

  “What is it, Harold?”

  “There’s a Mr. Lawrence McNally at the front door. He says he’s here to see you.” Harold shook his head, “He doesn’t have an appointment.”

  Lawrence McNally. Evangeline had no idea who that was.

  “Did he say what it was about?”

  “He said something about it being in regard to your brother Edward, but that was all he said.”

  Edward. Evangeline felt a shiver go up her spine. Was Edward all right? Even after everything he had done, Evangeline still loved him. She couldn’t bear the thought of him being dead. Was that why McNally was here? She stood, smoothing her hands down her skirts.

  “Send him in, Harold.”

  “Yes, Your Grace.”

  Harold bowed and left. Moments later, a tall, handsome man in his early thirties with red hair came sweeping in. From the cut of his cloth and the way he carried himself, he seemed to have more airs and graces than he should. Evangeline wondered how big he had gotten above his station to have this swagger about him, walking as if he owned the place.

  “Mr. McNally,” she said coolly.

  “Your Grace,” McNally bowed. Then he straightened up as Harold left, closing the door behind him, and smirked. “I must say, you’ve really gone up in the world. A duchess and at the young age of twenty. That is a big feat.”

  His eyes dragged over her and Evangeline had to resist the urge to shiver. Appearances were everything, and she had been raised to never show emotion when in company outside of the family. She squared her shoulders.

  “What do you want, Mr. McNally?”

  “As I’m sure your…butler…” McNally sneered, “told you, I know Edward.”

  “I heard that part. How do you know my brother?”

  “We travelled together. And we got to know each other pretty well,” McNally smirked. “He told me everything. And I mean everything.”

  Everything. Evangeline felt herself go cold. From the look in his eyes, McNally knew exactly what that meant. Evangeline certainly did; she had thought the whole nightmare had been put away where no one would find it.

  “Edward would never do that,” she said stiffly. “He knew how much was at stake if he said a word.”

  “But he did. Especially after I plied a few drinks down his throat,” McNally chuckled. He sat on the couch and crossed his legs, sprawling his arms out. “And it was then that I realized I was in possession of very important information. Something I could take advantage of.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I think you understand me perfectly, Evangeline.” McNally looked very smug. “You’re not unwise. Society says you’re incredibly astute. It was that brain of yours that attracted the duke to you in the first place.”

  Evangeline gritted her teeth. She wished she was brave enough to go over to the bell pull and summon the footmen but she had a feeling McNally would blurt out the truth if others were present.

  “If you have to address me,” she snapped, “it is either Lady Manchester or Your Grace. Don’t forget that.”

  McNally snorted.

  “Trust me, you won’t be anything but Miss Grey once the duke finds out about your family. And I mean the real truth about them.”

  “You leave my husband out of this.”

  McNally inspected his nails. He looked like he was enjoying himself.

  “I wonder how much you’ll give me to make sure he doesn’t know about this…debacle.”

  Evangeline couldn’t breathe. Her corset was suddenly too tight. She clutched onto the mantelpiece, glaring at McNally. He looked like he was pleased with causing her distress.

  “You come in here and threaten me with exposure?” she hissed. “That’s abhorrent.”

  “No, it’s a business proposition. I’m a little short of money right now and this would help my lifestyle very nicely.”

  “I’m sure it would,” Evangeline sneered.

  From the look of him, McNally could easily pass for aristocracy. But the way he spoke and acted told Evangeline he was from a much lower class. She wondered how many people he had blackmailed in the past to get to where he was now.

  McNally sat forward suddenly.

  “How does twelve hundred pounds sound?” he asked. “As a starting point.”

  “Pardon?”

  “For it all to be completely forgotten about.”

  Evangeline felt ill. He couldn’t be serious. He wouldn’t do that. But from the glint in his eye, McNally would. He was willing to ruin a marriage to get the money he wanted. He was an opportunistic thief and a scoundrel.

  Evangeline didn’t want Manchester to know what had happened to Edward and the real reason he had moved to America. If he knew, it would break his heart to know what he had married into.

  “Can…” Evangeline swallowed. “Can I think about it?”

  McNally snorted.

  “What is there to think about?”

  “I need to figure out if I can get the money. I haven’t got anything on hand right now to pay you.”

  Evangeline needed to stall. Just enough so she could carry out the plan forming in her head. McNally didn’t look happy about leaving empty handed but he nodded briskly and stood, straightening his jacket.

  “Very well. You’ve got twenty-four hours. I will be back here this time tomorrow.” His smirk made Evangeline feel very cold. “You don’t pay, the duke will be told everything.”

  Then he turned and left, leaving the door open. Evangeline heard him walk across the foyer and out the front door. It was then that she sagged onto the couch, holding back the tears.

  She was stuck. It was either pay or risk the duke knowing everything. Evangeline couldn’t bear to do either.

  However, she knew there was one other way. It would break her heart and Manchester would feel betrayed, but it was better than Evangeline letting him know the truth.

 
; Standing and swaying a little, Evangeline hurried to the door and up the stairs. She needed to start packing and flee into the night before her husband returned.

  Chapter 2

  The Bitter Duke

  Five Years Later

  Robert Mayes, Duke of Manchester, stared out of the window at the flowering gardens in full bloom. It was a splendid sight. But it couldn’t do anything to raise his mood.

  Nothing could raise his mood. His vitality and love of life had disappeared when he had come home from a sudden meeting with his mentor only to find his lovely Evangeline gone. She had completely vanished and none of the servants knew where she had gone. Her maid had known something, but she refused to betray her mistress. Manchester had fired her, saying he couldn’t have servants he couldn’t trust in his household. But that wasn’t going to bring Evangeline back.

  What had happened? He had gone over and over it in his mind and Manchester couldn’t understand why she had left. They had been happy, or so he thought. Evangeline had clearly loved him and she was most affectionate with him. Manchester had considered himself the luckiest man alive to attract a woman like her so quickly. Even his mother had been surprised; she hadn’t expected him to consider someone for a wife so soon after unexpectedly gaining the title upon his father’s sudden death.

  Manchester hadn’t cared. Evangeline was the woman he wanted, and he got her. For those few short months, they were the happiest of his life. Now she was gone and Manchester had no answers. None at all. He had no idea if she was alive or dead.

  He wished he knew more.

  A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts and Manchester ignored it. His servants knew to leave him alone when he was in his study. Only Harold, his stubborn butler, ignored this. And his mother, but she was at her holiday home in Cornwall for the summer, convalescing after suffering from measles. She was a strong woman and could handle her son but even she knew when to retreat.

  Then the door to his study opened and Manchester growled.

  “What is it, Harold?” He snapped. “I thought I said I wasn’t to be disturbed.”

  “Lord Hutchinson is here, Your Grace.” Harold’s voice didn’t even waver. “He hasn’t got an appointment, but he says it’s most urgent.”

  Manchester wanted to send him on his way. But Thomas Hutchinson was his mentor and closest friend. He was the only one that Manchester let in; everyone else had been pushed out. Other than his servants and his mother, Manchester hadn’t seen another person in three months. He sighed and turned away from the window.

  “Send him in.”

  Harold bowed and left the room. Moments later, a fine-looking man in his late forties entered the room. Even with the age of fifty around the corner, Thomas Hutchinson didn’t have any gray in his raven-colored hair. He was now sporting a nicely trimmed beard, and he looked thinner than before. The older man grinned at Manchester and approached him, holding out a hand.

  “Robbie.”

  Manchester scowled even as he warmly shook the man’s hand.

  “Hutch. And it’s Manchester.”

  “We’re in private company and nobody’s going to complain that I call you by the name you were born under.”

  “Except for me.”

  Hutch rolled his eyes and sighed.

  “Fine. Manchester. Or would you prefer Manny?”

  Manchester ignored that. He stepped past and went to the desk.

  “What are you doing here, Hutch?”

  “I’ve got a proposition for you. I believe you’ll like it.”

  Manchester snorted.

  “I highly doubt that.”

  He sat and scowled across the room. Directly across from him on the opposite wall was the painting of Evangeline that she had had done during their honeymoon. It was his favorite painting of her. Looking at it gave him an aching heart and Manchester could feel the dam about to open each time he laid eyes on it, but he couldn’t bring himself to take it down or move his desk.

  Hutch sighed and shook his head.

  “You’re still pining for her, aren’t you?”

  “Wouldn’t you?” Manchester snorted. “You leave for a few hours and come back to find that your wife has disappeared into thin air and no one knows where she is. The woman I married, the woman I promised to love until death do us part, had gone.” He gave the portrait a scowl. “There was no warning, nothing.”

  “It’s been five years, Manchester.” Hutch came around to stand in front of the desk, blocking his view of the painting. His mentor looked sympathetic but barely. “You might have to accept that she could be dead.”

  “If she is dead, where’s the body? And where did she go before she died?” Manchester shook his head. “I won’t stop until I know where she is.”

  In their country, you had to wait seven years before someone was legally declared dead. Manchester didn’t want to get to that point, but he had run out of options.

  “It would seem like she doesn’t want to be found,” Hutch commented.

  Manchester had come to the same conclusion. But why? He just wanted to know and then he could walk away. He thought they had been happy; Manchester had certainly been happy. And all Evangeline had done was tear his heart out. Manchester didn’t recognize the man he had become.

  “You need to think about something else.” Hutch sat in the ornate chair across from the desk, crossing his legs as he sat back. “Can’t you forget about her and start again?”

  Manchester snarled and slammed his hands onto the office.

  “Hutch!”

  “What?”

  “We’ve been through this before, remember? Practically every time you come here. I can’t forget and start again. I finally gave up my life of bachelorhood when I saw her, so I could marry her.”

  He was not going to marry someone else only to have his heart broken again. Manchester didn’t think anyone else could put up with him now. Evangeline had been able to and she had been worth it. Now Manchester was beginning to regret it.

  “And anyway,” he added, glaring at Hutch, “why am I getting advice from a bachelor? You’ve never been married. As far as I know, you’ve never loved any woman.”

  “Oh, I’ve loved plenty of women,” Hutch said with a wink.

  “I don’t want to know.”

  “Well, I came here to suggest a way to forget about her, for now. I think you need a holiday.”

  “What I need is my wife back.”

  “In Paris. On the government’s money.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Hutch grinned.

  “I’ve been asked to do a reconnaissance mission in Paris for the Prince Regent. He wants to know what the next moves are going to be within the French troops. I know French and I lived in France for years as a child so I’m the obvious choice.”

  That sounded like something his mentor would do. He was a daredevil of a man who always sought adventure. The man didn’t know what calm and peaceful was like. Women swooned whenever he was around because of the tales he could tell. The lord certainly had a smooth tongue to charm the ladies.

  Manchester had idolized him when he was a young man. Now he was older and wiser and just saw as it a way of getting killed. Hutch didn’t have any family to worry about.

  But…

  “Why are you telling me all of this?” he asked. “Do you want someone to write to?”

  Hutch rolled his eyes.

  “You’re not am imbecile, Manchester. You know French as well as I do if not better. I need someone to help me gather the information our country needs, and you are perfect.” Hutch shrugged, “And it could take your mind off your missing wife.”

  It was tempting. Manchester had been to France several times as a child and loved the country even though they were currently at war with them. And before he became the duke, he would have taken Hutch up on his offer. Not now. Manchester shook his head and looked away, at the painting over Hutch’s head.

  “I don’t feel like leaving.”r />
  “It’s for King and country.” Hutch sat forward. “And I do need your help. This is for more than one person.”

  He was right. And Manchester couldn’t argue with the King and country part. He was as loyal to King George as much as Hutch was. He sighed and rubbed his hands over his face.

  “All right. I’ll come with you. But I’m coming straight back as soon as we’re done.”

  “I’ve not got a problem with that.”

  Chapter 3

  The English Milliner

  Evangeline wondered how people, especially men, could be so stupid. No matter how many times she had given her answer, the man kept coming back with the same question. It drove her mad; why couldn’t he leave her alone?

  She huffed and turned away from the hat display she had been rearranging, to the handsome young man standing in the middle of her shop, his hat in hand. He looked like the dandy that he really was in the cut of his clothes and the curly dark hair he had grown out. Evangeline had to resist the urge to make a face whenever she looked at him.

  “For the last time, Monsieur Depardieu,” she said sharply, “I will not marry you.”

  “But why not?” Gaston Depardieu protested. “I love you and I know you have some affection for me. Is that not enough?”

  Evangeline bit back the urge to tell him she didn’t have any affection for him. Not anymore. Not after the amount of times he had come into her shop and proposed to her. They had barely had a conversation long enough for Evangeline to even get to know him.

  Not that she wanted to anymore.

  “I will not marry anyone.”

  “If it’s the problem of your son, do not worry. I am happy adopting Richard as my own.”

  Evangeline growled. That caused Gaston to step back. Evangeline had never reacted in such a way. This was nothing to do with her son, but Evangeline wasn’t about to tell him the real reason.

  “No,” she snapped. “Stop trying to pressure me into something I don’t want to do.”

  “Why not?” Gaston shot back. “You’ve been a widow a long time. Surely you should be moving on.”

  That wasn’t the reason and Evangeline knew it. She smoothed her hands on her dress.