Page 47 of The Duke's Carriage Window
“Ahh…I see.” Mr. Evers’s tone was solemn. “While that may matter to some, a real man would not care. What matters is whether he loves the woman, whether his world is empty without her. I thought Tiverton was that sort of man, like me. But he has proved me wrong today, and it saddens me to admit it.” A cloud of disapproval shadowed Mr. Evers’s kind eyes as he glanced back at Darius.
“Please do not think ill of him. It is out of concern for me that he cannot act on his feelings. He fears that I cannot survive in his world because I will not be accepted by the ton. I know he isn’t wrong about them, I just…I had hoped he would have asked me if I was brave enough to try.”
Mr. Evers was quiet a long moment. Meredith tilted her head back, letting the dappled sunlight caress her face as they passed through a tunnel of towering trees. She wished she could banish her dark thoughts with the beauty of her surroundings. She had the sudden silly wish that she could transform into a tree, like a dryad from the old myths, and just be without fear, without shame.
“Society can be cruel, it is true. But Tiverton should have spoken to you about it. Your feelings deserve to be acknowledged. He should not have simply made an assumption as to the strength of your character.”
Meredith quite agreed, but deep down she also feared that perhaps Darius liked her, but did not believe love between them was possible. Surely if he had loved her, he would have moved heaven and earth to be with her. Perhaps she did not matter enough to him for him to fight for her. He had only agreed that she would have been a suitable wife…not a wife he wanted. And that hurt her more than anything else ever had in her life.
“Someday you will find a man who will fight for you, Miss Montague. Lightning can strike twice, I assure you.” Mr. Evers smiled at her, the warm expression so undeniably pleasant that despite her sorrows Meredith found herself smiling in return. “Let us enjoy our ride then, and not think of marriage or other such concerns. Tell me, have you read Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein?”
“Oh yes.” Meredith fell easily into an engrossing discussion on the shocking and captivating novel with Mr. Evers and was still animatedly discussing it with him when Darius rode up alongside them.
“It is late. We should go home now, Meredith.” Darius gave Evers a nod and a smile, though his expression was a bit cold.
“I would like to call upon you tomorrow, Miss Montague.” Mr. Evers said to her. His eyes said to her, you have a friend in me if nothing else.
“Thank you, Mr. Evers. I will be available for your call tomorrow.”
“Excellent.” He tipped his hat. “Then I shall take my leave. Mrs. Petersham. Your Grace.” He rode off down the path deeper in Hyde Park, his horse kicking up the dirt on the path to create a small cloud behind him.
“What a lovely gentleman,” Frances said. “Simply lovely.”
Darius made a low, disgruntled sound, but Meredith didn’t comment on it.
“Do we have a ball this evening?” Meredith asked.
“Yes, it is hosted by Lord and Lady Cavendish. They have a son, Gregory. Charming man.” Frances said. Now that she’d settled into Meredith’s life, she’d taken control of her social calendar with ease.
“Gregory is too young for you,” Darius interrupted abruptly. “He’s barely twenty-one, not much older than you are.”
“Oh?” Meredith challenged. “Must I marry an old man?”
Darius shot her a look of surprise. “What? No, that’s not what I said.”
“Then why can’t I marry someone close to my own age?”
Darius didn’t immediately answer. “It’s… it’s just that you deserve someone more established. Cavendish is still young and wild, running about London dallying in vices.”
“Is he?” Frances interjected with a tone of doubt. “I heard that he is pushing to create a Royal Astronomical Society, although I imagine that effort will take years to see to fruition. It seems to me that a man bold enough to study the stars is not likely running about spending his time exploring vices. When a man has the heavens to look at, why would he spend his time in a gambling hell?”
Darius’s brows lowered, but he said nothing. Meredith turned her thoughts to tonight’s ball. Perhaps she should listen to Mr. Evers and search for a second lightning strike. As much as her heart yearned for Darius, she had to be sensible. If Darius would not allow himself to love her, then she would find love elsewhere.
11
Meredith hadn’t been able to get the mystery out of her mind. It seemed on the quiet nights, just when she was drifting asleep, she imagined she saw Minerva standing by Meredith’s bedchamber window, looking out upon the gardens. Minerva had turned, the moonlight touching upon her face, a face that seemed troubled.
“I feel so very far away,” the dream Minerva had whispered. “I miss my gardens…”
Meredith had shoved her bedsheets back and wiped at her eyes. When she’d opened them again, the strange vision was gone and Meredith was more than certain then that what she’d feared was indeed true. Minerva was no longer alive. She’d resolved that night that no matter what she would find out what happened to her neighbor.
It was a full two weeks later when Meredith was struck by an idea. Not one about finding a husband, but rather the mystery of the Crell house and how to solve the mystery of Minvera Crell’s disappearance.
It came to her as she stood in the middle of a ballroom, facing Warren for a dance at one of the half-dozen balls she had attended in the last two weeks. Her mind had been wandering back to that hole in the garden wall and the void it represented. She could not let what had happened to Mrs. Crell go unanswered.
“I have it!” she whispered as Warren came toward her, their hands clasped as he spun her around.
“Have what?” Warren asked. She grinned at him. He had become such a close friend, always dancing with her and sitting with her at dinner, much to Darius’s annoyance.
