The Rebel Heir (31 page)

“What a shameful disappointment you are,” her mother hissed at her, but in the silent room her voice carried. “Do you even realize the hardship I've suffered? Day after day. It isn't an easy task putting a shine to something this dull. But I accepted that you were what I had to work with. And I fought every day, dedicated my life to the effort of turning this…
you
…into something a gentleman might desire. And this is how you show your gratitude? Daft girl. You're rubbish, just like your plain-faced sister.”

“Don't speak of Sue in that manner. She deserves both of our apologies after what you forced me to do to her,” Evie warned in a low voice. The vase in her hand grew heavy with the weight of her mother's words. “For years I've been bruised from your effort and hardship. But you won't force me to do anything ever again,” Evie murmured before upending the vase over her mother's head.

Evie heard the gasps around her, even a quickly hushed burst of applause, but she didn't allow it to distract her from the woman before her. Instead Evie stared her down like an opponent in battle. Her mother stood shaking with rage. Evie would have been fearful of the look in her eyes only a few days ago, but not now.

The room was still. She had the attention of everyone present tonight, and for the first time, she was proud of the image they saw before them. She was no longer a fabrication held together by jewels—she was real. She was Evie. “Who I am is enough,” Evie said only loud enough for her mother to hear. “Sue was right about you. This is where we part ways.”

Evie turned. Looking through the crowd of stunned, silent guests, she signaled a footman by the door. A second later a procession of servants entered carrying platters piled high with white daisies. It was every servant that Mother had let go over the past two seasons in London. They'd been more than willing to assist Evie when she'd contacted them this morning. Even on such short notice, there was an army. They moved through the crowd, passing out daisies to everyone in attendance.

A few ladies drew back in horror and refused the simple blossoms, but Evie had wasted enough of her efforts on ladies of their ilk. That ilk could rot. They didn't understand the beauty of a daisy and they never would. Lady Smeltings shook with what Evie could only assume was indignation over the entire scene while another lady attempted to calm her.

Evie scanned the crowd with an odd sense of detachment. For so many years, she'd lived in fear of just this occurrence, and now that she'd caused such mayhem at a ball, the only thought that washed over her was that she was finally free. She was free of her mother's reign of terror, but she was also free of society's expectations for her. And freedom was a grand possession indeed.

“Throwing the family jewels…” she heard a lady say, but they could keep their family jewels. Evie had no need of them anymore.

She moved into the crowd, hearing a gentleman say, “If my daughter ever…” But she stopped listening. If his daughter ever, Evie would be the first to congratulate the poor dear.

As for Evie, there was nothing further her parents could do to harm her. That gentleman's daughter may never dare to speak her own mind, but Evie had dared. She had dared and now she would dare to live every day in the same manner as she had tonight.

“I never suspected such…” she finally heard on the lips of an older lady, but the woman's gaze wasn't focused on Evie, but on the freesia-covered lady that Evie had left behind. No one had suspected how horrible her mother had been to her, but now they knew the truth.

“No more lies,” Evie whispered to herself.

She moved with slow steps through the room, watching as the simple flowers replaced the freesia arrangements, covering every surface with their beauty. Servants were still filing through the doors with tray after tray as the orchestra began playing once more.

She moved toward the door of the drawing room where she'd last seen Ash. Was he still about? Had he seen her spectacle?

“Lady Evangeline,” Lord Winfield said, stepping into her path and stopping her progress.

Drat. She'd been so caught up in seizing her life back from her mother's grasp that she'd forgotten about their engagement. He was searching her face as if seeing her for the first time, but Evie had no desire to stand about while he struggled to understand what had just happened.

“I won't be able to marry you, my lord. Apologies for any inconvenience this may cause you.” She gave his arm a pat and veered around him, continuing on her way.

She heard him stammer something behind her, but she didn't stop. She needed to find Ash.

“That was quite the announcement,” a gentleman said as she passed.

His voice. Where had she heard that voice before? Her stomach clenched before she'd even turned to see who was speaking to her.

“Lord Braxton,” she choked out. “What are you doing here?”

“This was reported to be the event of the evening. It seems the gossips were right on that score.”

Evie stared up at the man, her mind racing. What of Ash? Was he still here? He wouldn't be safe with these… She raked her gaze across the group of men. Oh dear, they looked like the makings of an angry mob. “Well then.” She swallowed. “I hope you continue to have a lovely evening. If you'll excuse me…”

“I would appreciate it if you didn't warn Lord Crosby of our whereabouts,” Braxton said as if he could read her thoughts.

“Certainly.” She took a step away from the man before turning back to him. “In fact, I'll assist you. He asked me to meet him on the terrace in but a few minutes' time. I'll show you the way.”

“Magnificent news,” Braxton exclaimed as he fell in step beside her. “I had my fill of London days ago. My home won't survive my absence much longer. The sooner I find this man, the sooner I can be gone from this place.”

“He's terribly difficult to find, isn't he? You have my sympathies, my lord.” She laughed, thinking of the last year when she'd searched for him as well, although for entirely different reasons.

He grumbled in response as she led the way out the door to the terrace.

“My thanks for your assistance,” he offered as the group of irritable-looking men stepped out with him.

“I'm always happy to assist you in such a manner,” Evangeline said with her most charming smile.

A moment later, the last of the men was through the door and she made her move, slipping back inside and turning the key in the lock. Her heart was pounding as she looked through the sea of people before her in the hall. The buzzing of the crowd had increased with the scene she'd caused. Somewhere in this madness of her own creation, Ash stood unaware of the danger he was in. She only hoped it wasn't too late.

* * *

Ash didn't wait for the flowers to be doled out to everyone—he knew a finale when he witnessed one. Instead, he moved through the crowd until he reached the front receiving parlor where Evie spent her days and slipped through the door. He braced a hand on the wall and tried to settle his racing heart, while an odd mix of pride and sorrow threatened to drown him.

She'd done it. She'd stared down her opponent and thrown flowers in the face of danger. She
was
still his Evie, the real Evie. Only…she wasn't his anymore. He shook his head and pushed off the wall.

Moving to the opposite end of the room, he stood staring at the settee where he'd once had tea with Evie. It seemed a lifetime ago that she'd chatted about the weather nonstop. If he'd told her then about her father's connection to his past, would things be different between them now? Would he be the one in the next room being congratulated, or would she have thrown him from the house months ago like an unwanted freesia blossom?

Behind him, the door slammed shut and he spun on his heel. “Evie,” he murmured.

“I locked the lot of them on the terrace,” she said, eyes wide and face flushed. “I can't believe I did that. Of course, I can't believe I did a great many things tonight.”

He moved toward her, unable to resist the pull she had on him. “If you ever desired work at a traveling festival, I think you'd lead a fine show.” He lifted a hand toward the wall that separated the parlor from the drawing room. “That was…”

“Long overdue,” she finished, straightening from the door.

“I was going to say brilliant, but yours is true as well.”

She twitched the ribbon trim of her gown with her fingers as she looked at him. “I couldn't have done this without your encouragement.”

He nodded, unsure how to respond without further pouring out his heart for her to refuse. “Congratulations on your engagement,” he finally blurted out.

“Is that why you're here?”

“No.” The paper that had brought him here was still in his pocket and quite forgotten until this moment.

She took a breath and looked at the floor between them. “You have to leave.”

He released a harsh breath that almost sounded like a bark of laughter, but there was nothing amusing about the way his heart was aching for her. “I suppose I should have known that was coming. After all, it isn't the first time you've asked me to leave.”

“This isn't about that,” she corrected, taking a step in his direction. “Lord Braxton is here, and he has a band of men with him.”

“Braxton,” he repeated. “And you've come to warn me away.”

“Yes.” She looked at him with pleading eyes. “He wishes you harm. I…feel otherwise.”

“
Otherwise
, and yet we're at your betrothal ball.” He gave her a wry smile before looking away.

“It was never about that for me. You must go. Now.”

His entire life had led him to this moment. His promise to his mother. His scheme to exact his revenge on Rightworth. The years of practice to be ready for the task. Evie. It was the last in the list that stayed his movements. He couldn't leave her, not now, not even for the evening. He would spend the remainder of his life undoing the wrongs he'd done. It wouldn't undo where their relationship had gone sour, but it was a start.

“I'm not going to leave,” he said in a low voice.

“What of your rules? You never stay,” she pleaded, but he didn't move. “Why now when you have so much to lose?”

“Turns out even malleable things like rules can break if you truly want them to be broken.”

“They'll send for the authorities. It would mean prison, Ash. You have to leave. Run!”

He turned back to her, resigned determination meeting the worried look in her eyes. “I've already unpacked my trunks.”

She shook her head, clearly not understanding the significance of his statement. “Pack them again.”

“No. I won't run from this. A very brave person I know threw flowers in the face of her enemy tonight, and I won't turn tail and run from mine.”

“It's not the same, Ash.” She took a step closer to him, looking up at him as she spoke. “If you stay, you'll leave here in chains.”

“And you with a leg shackle.” He laid a hand on her shoulder, the most he dared to touch her. “I have to do this, Evie. I've always slipped out the side door when things got difficult. I have a pile of wrongdoings in my past and I don't want to live in that manner any longer. I never thought I could have more in life until I met you.” He dropped his hand away from her, drawing his fingers into a fist at his side. “I…”
love you
, he finished to himself.

He wouldn't leave her, he couldn't. Not now, not ever. He would never abandon Evie, no matter what that meant for him. But he did need to allow her to walk away for her own good. “I'm glad for your newfound happiness in your situation. Now, I have to sort out my own situation.”

“It will lead you to a prison cell.” Her voice was raspy as she spoke. “This path, it will only lead you to harm.”

“So be it,” Ash murmured as he walked out the parlor door.

* * *

She had to do something. He was here because of her, Evie knew it. He'd come to support her tonight even though she'd forced him from her life, even though his presence here would end in his imprisonment. He was walking toward his own demise and under the impression it was for her. He was righting wrongs? What did she care about that nonsense? She'd loved him, even knowing he was a swindler. She couldn't allow him to make a sacrifice like this on her account. She had to stop him.

Evie made it as far as the parlor door before realizing she didn't know what to do. There was no stopping Ash from destroying his own life. She'd tried. Lord Braxton would be angrier than her wet mother with flowers on her head by now. Had anyone found a key and allowed him back into the ball? Perhaps she had time to repair this situation.

She spun around the hall in search of someone or something that could help. She wasn't certain what she required, but she knew she couldn't allow Braxton to hurt Ash. She needed something, someone…anything really! She just needed assistance. Grabbing a walking stick her father sometimes used when he took walks in the park from the corner behind the front door, she turned, brandishing it as one might a sword. Only, she'd never used a sword before. Blast her useless training in embroidery!

She turned and gave the walking stick a testing jab, only to hit their butler in the back. Wincing as he cried out in pain, she rushed to his aid. “Terribly sorry. You were not my intended target.”

“My back begs to differ, my lady,” the old man grumbled.

She needed to escape this little mishap and find Ash. Would he be in the drawing room by now? Where was Lord Braxton? As well-planned as the earlier portion of her evening was, this was not going well at all. “Would you like to sit?” she offered, looking around the hall for a chair.

“During a night of entertainment? Certainly not.” He seemed more affronted by her offer of assistance than the jab to his ribs. “This evening has been quite eventful. I can't imagine the chaos if I chose to abandon my post.”