Regency Romances Read online

  “Some people move on better than others,” she said tightly. “I’m not one of those people.”

  Gaston approached her and grabbed her arms.

  “I’ve been waiting for you to be ready for four years. I am tired of waiting.” His hands seemed to tighten on her arms. “I want you as my wife, Evie.”

  If Evangeline had had any doubts of Gaston Depardieu before, she certainly had none now. She shrugged his hands off and stepped away, putting the hat display between them.

  “And I said no. Take my first answer I gave all those years ago and leave, Monsieur.”

  “Not until I get what I want.”

  Gaston approached her, reaching out to grab Evangeline. Evangeline dodged again and picked up a hat pin from the nearby display. Gaston grabbed her and spun her around, pressing her against the table. He brushed a hand gently across Evangeline’s cheek.

  “I love you Evie Grafton,” he purred. “I will not be denied this time.”

  Evangeline jabbed him in the hand with the hat pin. Gaston yelled and jumped back, clutching at his hand. Blood trickled between his fingers. Evangeline’s head was pounding. Her natural instinct was to go to him and tend to the injury. But she just wanted him gone.

  “Do you want to try that again?” she challenged. “I’ve got several more I want to try out.”

  Gaston stared at her in alarm as he rummaged through his pockets for a handkerchief.

  “You stabbed me!”

  “I told you no, and that is always going to be my answer.” Evangeline’s hand tightened around the hat pin. “Now more than ever. No one touches me without my consent.”

  “But…I’m related to the French royal family!”

  “What’s that got to do with it?” Gaston threw this out whenever he could as if people had forgotten. Evangeline rolled her eyes. “I’m distantly related to the British royal family but I’m not going around using that as an excuse for my poor behavior, am I? Now, are you going to leave or am I going to fetch the authorities?”

  Gaston had managed to find a handkerchief and was wrapping it around his bloody hand. Evangeline hadn’t realized how deep she had thrust the pin. Gaston looked furious. Evangeline wondered how many women had turned down his advances and eventually buckled to his temper tantrum.

  “I’ll be in Nice for a month,” Gaston said through gritted teeth. “When I come back, I will ask again. And I expect a yes.”

  Then he turned and stormed out the shop, barging past Jessica Loudain as she came in, carrying a pile of boxes. He knocked her enough to make Jessica drop the boxes all over the floor, their contents spilling out. But Gaston didn’t apologize, merely stormed across the busy street and disappearing.

  “Merde!” Jessica cried. She dropped to her knees and began to gather the hats. “One of these days, I’ll get him.”

  “Don’t bother.” Evangeline knelt opposite and showed her the hat pin. “I already did.”

  Jessica grinned.

  “Serves him right.”

  Evangeline grimaced as she saw the sight and began to pick up the hats. They could sort them properly into their boxes in the back. It was more important to get the shop looking clean. Jessica followed her into the back room and they put everything on the floor. Then the two ladies sat and began to put the hats into the relevant boxes.

  “Why was Monsieur Depardieu here, anyway?” Jessica asked. “Another proposal?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  Evangeline’s assistant snorted rudely.

  “How he’s not realized that you hate him after four years is beyond me. A man with all his faculties can tell.”

  “I have a feeling he’s not all there.”

  Jessica giggled.

  “We make and sell hats, Evie, not white jackets.”

  “More’s the pity.” Evangeline found herself giggling as well. “We could use him as a tailor’s dummy.”

  “Then you can stick him with more pins.”

  “Ah, Jessie, don’t tempt me.”

  Jessica flashed a grin and fixed a lid on a box.

  “Next time he comes in, I’ll deal with him for you. I’m not afraid to take a swing.”

  Evangeline didn’t doubt that. Jessica had been a troublemaker as a young girl and was constantly getting caught for having fights. But Evangeline had noticed a talent in Jessica, and a willingness to learn, so she had, against advice from everyone else, hired the girl to work for her. Jessica hadn’t disappointed her in the two-and-a-half years they had worked together.

  Even then, the street life had never really left her. And Evangeline had a feeling she might need it again.

  ***

  Hutch finished scribbling his letter and folded it, slipping it into an envelope.

  “I think we’ve got enough for now.”

  “When are we going home?” Manchester grumbled.

  “What’s the matter with you? We’ve been here a month and gathered information for our country and all you can ask is can we go home.”

  Manchester scowled and stared at his coffee cup. They had been in Paris for a month now, gathering snippets of information from the troops. With their flawless French, the pair had blended in. It had taken a while to get used to being addressed simply as Monsieur Robbie Marsden but Manchester managed to take it in his stride. It had been a long time since someone had called him Robbie other than Hutch. Evangeline had been the last person.

  Manchester wanted that to go back to being his title, not his name. His name kept reminding him of his vanished wife.

  “I’m just focused on doing my job and leaving,” he muttered, sipping at his coffee. It was a strange drink, but it tasted nice. He wouldn’t object to drinking it all day. Maybe he would have it sent to him.

  “Back to your hermit life again?” Hutch barked out a laugh. “I don’t think anyone knows what you look like anymore.”

  “Not my problem.”

  “Maybe it is.” Hutch shook his head. “You’re moping after a ghost.”

  Manchester felt a chill down his back. The thought of his wife being dead was never far from his mind, but he didn’t want to think about it.

  “You don’t know that she’s dead.”

  “No, I don’t, but something bad happened that was enough to make her completely vanish. Whether by her design or someone else’s, they want to make sure she isn’t found. There is nothing you can do about that.”

  Hutch was right. He had always been the voice of reason. But Manchester would like answers. If he knew what had happened, he would be able to walk away from it all. If Evangeline was dead, Manchester wanted to know where her body was. If she was alive, he wanted to know why.

  Hutch squeezed his arm.

  “It’s not always a bed of roses, Manchester.”

  “What?”

  “Life. Sometimes we don’t always get what we want.” Sighing, Hutch stood and placed the envelope inside his jacket. “I’m going to meet our contact. Save our table, will you? I want another coffee.”

  Manchester shrugged and his friend walked away. Even slightly unkempt, wearing French clothes and speaking more French than English, Hutch was still a fine-looking man. Several of the women had shown considerable interest in him and Hutch lapped it up. Manchester didn’t want to know how much though.

  He got several interested looks as well. Apparently, the scowling type were popular amongst women. But Manchester simply turned his back on them and walked away. He couldn’t think of anyone else, not when his wife was out there. Could he move on if she had? Manchester had no idea, and he didn’t really want to find out. All he wanted was Evangeline back.

  He slumped heavily in his chair, wishing that he could simply get up and leave.

  Chapter 4

  Finding His Wife

  Manchester was aware of two ladies sitting with their matronly chaperone nearby giving him flirtatious looks behind their fans. Manchester gave them a glare and looked away. He heard a flurry of French in his direction and was about to turn
around with a sharp retort when a woman across the street caught his attention. Tall, slim, with flaming red hair pinned up perfectly under a dark green hat, wearing a green dress that flattered her, was walking along the pavement. She practically strolled along, her long legs making her look like she was gliding.

  Manchester’s heart stood still. She was a little older, her skin less alabaster, and she looked leaner than before, but Manchester was certain it was Evangeline.

  He was up from his seat in an instant just as the woman went to the end of the street. He had to find out. Even if it meant grabbing a strange woman, Manchester had to know.

  Hurrying across the street, Manchester ran after her. The woman had crossed the street and was walking by the river. She stopped as a mother and child came the other way and they spoke; the mother giving her a bright smile and the child waving at her. The woman waved back; they spoke some more and then carried on walking.

  Manchester darted across and almost collided with a group coming out of a café. One of the women scolded him and he got a few glares from some older patrons, but Manchester simply stepped back and let them pass. He didn’t want to cause a scene.

  But when they finally moved and Manchester could get through, the woman had gone. Manchester scanned the crowds. It shouldn’t be difficult to spot a red-headed woman wearing a green dress. But there was no sign of her.

  “Rob!”

  Manchester spun around. Hutch was running towards him, sidestepping the group Manchester had almost knocked over. He reached the younger man and stopped, breathing heavily with his face red.

  “What on earth are you doing? I thought you were going to keep an eye on the table.”

  “I saw her, Hutch.”

  “Saw who?”

  “Evangeline.”

  Manchester was certain now. It had to be Evangeline. No other woman could be that beautiful and that graceful. The few glimpses of her face he had gotten weren’t conclusive, but Manchester was beginning to feel it in his gut. Evangeline was alive, and she was here in Paris!

  What was she doing in Paris? Evangeline had said she wanted to never leave England as you couldn’t get any more beautiful than her own country. As far as Manchester knew, she didn’t know how to speak French. So why here?

  “You saw Evangeline?” Hutch stared at him like he had gone mad. “Have you got heat-stroke?”

  “I’m not. I really did see her.” Manchester ran his hands through his hair. His mind was going fast. He had to find out. “I need your help, Hutch. I have to find out what’s going on.”

  It wouldn’t cease until he saw the woman with his own eyes, locking eyes with her. That was the only way Manchester would know if it was his wife.

  Hutch was still staring at him strangely. He looked as though he was contemplating whether he should put distance between them. Then he sighed and nodded.

  “If it’ll stop you acting like a madman, I’ll happily prove you wrong that Evangeline isn’t here in Paris.”

  ***

  Manchester scoured the city. He had to find her. But it was easier said than done. He tried the wealthier side of Paris, going through the servants about her, but none of them had a clue. Manchester even tried a friend of his firmly in the Society circle, but he hadn’t heard of Evangeline being in Paris, either.

  That didn’t sound right. Evangeline had been born into Society and she wouldn’t venture from that. But Manchester had looked all through England, Scotland and Wales, even Ireland, and she wasn’t there. He hadn’t tried France yet, but that was beginning to look like a flunk as well. Evangeline wouldn’t have ventured far from what she knew. As far as Manchester knew, Evangeline had never worked in her life. Her passion had been fashion, and she made her own clothes, but Manchester couldn’t see her becoming a seamstress for the rich and wealthy. That didn’t sound right.

  Hopefully, Hutch would find out more. He was better at gathering information and knew the right questions to ask without anyone knowing the real reason.

  They convened on the steps of Notre Dame. Manchester had got there early, despondent in his search. Hutch came up to him and sat beside him.

  “Did you find anything?”

  Manchester shook his head with a scowl.

  “No, I didn’t. I found absolutely nothing. Nobody knew anything about her.”

  “Well, I might have something for you.”

  “What?”

  Hutch’s eyes were bright. He really had found something.

  “There’s a milliner in the main square who matches Evangeline’s description. The people I spoke to said she was English and had been in Paris for about five years. Her shop has been there for three. She’s very popular and everyone likes her. Talented and doing very well for herself.”

  A milliner. She was making hats? That made sense; Evangeline had always been creative with her headgear. Manchester couldn’t believe he had missed that.

  “Did you get a name?”

  “She’s known as Mademoiselle Evie. I managed to sweet-talk a pretty young lady at the flower stall in the square and found out her last name is Grafton.”

  That cemented it for Manchester.

  “It’s Evangeline.”

  “How can you possibly know that?”

  “Her pet name with all her family was Evie. And her grandmother’s family name was Grafton. She was very close to her grandparents.” Manchester grunted as he remembered. “When we had children, they would either be called Beatrice or Richard in memory of them.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure.”

  Manchester’s heart began to pick up pace. He was so close now. Evangeline was really here. They were within touching distance.

  “But a milliner?” Hutch still looked confused. “She could have been anything in the world.”

  “She always had an eye for fashion.”

  Manchester could see now why Evangeline was doing well for herself. She was one of those people who knew someone’s perfect color and what would be their ideal style just by looking at them. Her mother and grandmother had both had the knack as well and Evangeline had been sought after by many younger debutantes to ask about their perfect dress. It had amused Manchester no end, but his wife had been perfect at it and he enjoyed seeing her eyes light up doing something she loved.

  “But a duchess becoming a hat maker? That doesn’t make any sense.”

  Manchester stood.

  “Well, I intend to make sense of it.”

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m going to go into the shop and speak to her.”

  Manchester was already at the bottom of the steps when Hutch caught up with him. His friend grabbed his arm.

  “Are you insane, Rob?” he hissed. “You’ll blow your cover if you go in there.”

  “I’m not going to do anything except check the place out. If she’s there, I’ll get her to speak to me. No one will be any the wiser.”

  That was Manchester’s plan. But all his good plans hadn’t been getting off the ground lately.

  “You think no one will be any the wiser when a strange Englishman comes in and does nothing except walk once around the shop and back out again?” Hutch demanded. “You’re clearly not thinking this through.”

  “Oh, am I not?”

  Hutch rolled his eyes.

  “Be sensible about this, Rob.”

  “Stop calling me that.”

  “I can’t exactly call you your title in the middle of enemy territory, can I?” Hutch hissed. “In any case, she’s not there.”

  “What?”

  “I found this out from the lovely lass in the shop, Jessica. It’s her day off, so she’s doing errands and she’ll be at home.”

  That was even better. No need to make a scene in front of her clients. Much as Manchester wanted answers, he didn’t want Evangeline’s business to suffer. She didn’t need that. Not yet.

  “What’s the address?”

  “Rob…”

  “Don’t �
�Rob’ me, what’s the address?”

  ***

  Evangeline sat beside Richard’s bedside as the doctor checked him over. The little boy was sitting up and looking bright-eyed, better than the day before. The spots on his face were either scabbed or fading, and he wasn’t as pale as before.

  Evangeline was hopeful. It was hard going to work when her son was at home ill with the chickenpox. It had been known to kill people and Evangeline didn’t want to lose her little boy. But Richard was strong, just like his father. He had handled it beautifully and Evangeline couldn’t be more proud of him.

  Chapter 5

  Face-to-Face Again

  The doctor straightened up with a smile.

  “I’m glad you’re looking better, Monsieur Grafton.”

  “I slept well last night.” Richard rubbed his stomach. “And I’m hungry.”

  The doctor laughed.

  “That’s a good sign.” He looked at Evangeline. “From what I can see, all the spots have scabbed over. He’s not contagious anymore so you can let him out of his room.”

  That was a relief. Richard was not one of those children who liked being cooped up in a room all day. He would not stay in bed unless it was to sleep. Trying to keep him in his room so he didn’t infect anyone else had been a mammoth task. Evangeline was grateful that her maid Aurelie and her nanny Juliet had been able to keep Richard in hand while she was at work. Evangeline couldn’t have done it alone.

  The doctor packed his bag and nodded at Evangeline.

  “I’ll be along in the next week to check on him again, just to make sure.”

  “Thank you.”

  The doctor left and Richard scrambled out from under the bedclothes, jumping up and down on his knees. Evangeline laughed and grabbed hold of him.

  “What are you doing, you little pest?”

  “I can get up!” Richard sang, laughing as Evangeline tickled him. “I’m better now!”

  “I know you are but you still need to take it easy.” Evangeline let go of her son and sat up with a gasp, trying to get her breath back. “As should I.”

  “Can I go into the garden today?” Richard bounced off the bed and jumped up and down in front of his mother. “Philippe said he was going to pick apples today.”