knew she’d offended the woman, but she was too sickened and disgusted to care. Before Lydia could speak, Evleen raised a hand to silence her. “Montague is dead because of his own folly and I’ll not hear another word.”
With firm steps, she strode from the drawing room, vastly relieved to escape an atmosphere reeking of reprobation, all directed toward her. She was about to mount the stairs when she heard Lydia’s voice behind her.
“Wait a moment,” the older woman called in a compromising tone. “I have something to say to you alone.”
“And what might that be, Mrs. Trevlyn?” Evleen was hard-put to keep the anger and resentment from her voice.
“We talked once, remember? I told you my daughters would always come first.”
“I remember.” Evleen wondered what the woman was trying to say.
Lydia raised her chin firmly. “I just want you to know I meant what I said—that I shall always put the best interest of my girls before anything and anyone.”
The truth dawned. Evleen felt sick inside but knew her only recourse was to confront the woman. “Mrs. Trevlyn, you have considered me a threat from the beginning. At first you thought I might ‘steal’ Montague. Now that he’s dead, you’re afraid I might do the same with Thomas, so you’re willing to let untrue rumors circulate that surely will ruin my reputation. Am I not correct?”
Lydia Trevlyn’s silence gave Evleen all the confirmation she would ever need.
“Then why are you even bothering to tell me? Is this some kind of apology?”
“Not an apology but a warning.” Lydia gave Evleen a long, withering stare. “You know Lord Thomas fairly well, don’t you?”
“He accompanied Patrick and me from Ireland.”
Lydia cocked her head. “Do you consider him attractive? I am only asking because—”
“You want me to stay away from him, don’t you?”
“Exactly. He belongs to Charlotte now. I trust you understand.”
In the face of Lydia’s appalling warning, Evleen threw caution to the winds. Bitterly she replied, “I understand all right. You said you put the best interests of your girls before anything and anyone. It is obvious you put them ahead of honor and integrity, as well.”
Not wanting to hear another word, Evleen spun on her heel and left. Shocked, feeling totally isolated, she climbed the stairs to her bedchamber, wondering if there was any way she could set straight the Trevlyns’ accusations. Amanda knew the truth, of course, but Evleen wasn’t sure the girl could stand up for herself. The more Evleen thought, the more she realized there was nothing she could do. How could she prove Montague had been drunk and insulting when here were the high-and-mighty Trevlyns implying Montague was a saint, and his death was caused by that rude, selfish upstart from Ireland who had for no reason insulted him?
Her chances were nil.
The brief period of euphoria Evleen had experienced at the ball was forever gone. Ah Thomas, our dreams are shattered. Evleen’s heart ached as she perceived with fearful clarity that the sudden, tragic death of Montague had changed her life. The man she loved was not plain Lord Thomas anymore. How ironic! Mama had wanted her to marry a rich and titled Englishman, and now Thomas was, but the barrier between them was higher than ever. As Lord Eddington, new heir of the Marquess of Westhaven, he would be a different person and things between them could never be the same.
Chapter 16
Evleen spent a sleepless, tortured night. Despite the Trevlyns’ appallingly unfair accusation, she spent much of her time thinking of that pitiful dark bundle lying in the street and hearing Thomas’s anguished cry. She felt so sick about Montague that tortured regrets assailed her.
True, he’d been obnoxious on the dance floor, but perhaps if she hadn’t walked away...
True, he’d been intoxicated, but why had she made that terrible remark? If only she’d been kinder, more tolerant!
If only... if only...
But regrets would get her nowhere. Nor, she suspected, would any further protests regarding those horrible accusations that she was somehow responsible for Montague’s untimely death.
And Thomas. What shall I do about Thomas?
In the morning, she yearned to stay in her bedchamber and hide, but she knew such a course would be a coward’s choice. Feeling numb inside, she dressed carefully and went down for breakfast, head high but with a heart full of dread. Except for Amanda’s smile, she was met by silent hostility at the breakfast table until finally, as she sat picking at her food, Lydia Trevlyn asked, “So what will you do now,