Little Alex. Interesting that he’d taken that up. Was he distancing himself from the events he was about to describe? Did that make talking easier? Regardless, she remained silent, afraid that any interjection would deter him.
“She wasn’t the first nanny by any means, but Little Alex was particularly fond of her, and I think, she of him. It was she who gave me my first magic lantern. Birthday presents were forbidden. She knew that, but nevertheless…” He smiled. “She couldn’t have hit upon a gift more likely to incur the duke’s wrath. Little Alex loved it. I didn’t see much of my father in those days. Once a day, for five minutes, I was taken to the study to see him. He would inspect me and question the nanny as to how I’d been spending my time.”
It wasn’t the crux of his story; she knew from his casual way of speaking. But she was horrified anyway. True, for much of her life she’d had no parent at all, let alone a nanny. But Captain had spent time with her. He’d trained her and even made the lessons fun. Yes, his motives had been selfish. Yes, he’d been looking after his investment. But, as heir to a dukedom, Alex had been an investment too. Why had his father treated him so cavalierly? Why had he barely seen him? Couldn’t he have mustered even the semblance of love? Because she knew from experience that a semblance was better than nothing at all.
“Until I was six, I don’t remember the duke paying a single visit to the nursery, but one day, a few weeks later, he did.” He stopped, eyes distant, remembering.
“He caught you playing with the magic lantern?”
“Naturally.” He shook his head. “The Seven Wonders of the World right there in the nursery. That’s educational, isn’t it? But he called it a frivolous waste of my time and smashed the lantern to pieces with his cane. When I… When Little Alex cried, he was locked in a cupboard for an entire day.”
Captain had never done anything like that. Neither had Miss Rose. Both had planned to use her abominably, but neither had actually done so in the end. Her childhood had been one long series of narrow escapes. She had known hunger and deprivation, and she had been in near constant danger of even worse. But, as she’d recently discovered, pain was particularly searing when inflicted by someone you loved. By someone who was supposed to love you.
“That’s appalling,” she told him.
“Ah, but you haven’t heard the worst part.” He seemed amused. She knew what he was going to say. “He dismissed the nanny. By the time I was free of the cupboard, she was already gone.”
“He didn’t permit you to say goodbye?”
“No, he didn’t. He said I’d grown too fond of her, that it wasn’t proper to miss a servant.”
“Do you know what happened to her?”
His face went like stone. Jaw clenched. Eyes dead and joyless. “He dismissed her without a character. She couldn’t find work and she died, alone and penniless.”
Evie couldn’t remember a time when she’d felt more angry. Frankly, she wanted to dig the old duke up, set fire to his remains, and salt the resulting ashes. How dared he treat an employee that way? How dared he treat a little boy that way? “Bloody aristo,” she muttered.
“My sentiments exactly.”
“Is that why you want to give me this money? So I don’t die alone and penniless?”
She’d been teasing but he answered seriously. “Your situation is nothing like hers. I have no doubt of your ability to survive with or without my money.”
“Because I have no scruples, and therefore, no need of a good reference.”
This time, he responded with a little more levity. “It’s one of the things I admire most about you. Though I would like to make things easier for you if you’ll let me.”
“Of course I’ll let you. I’ll take you for every penny if you like.”
His fingers traced circles through the linen over her rib cage. “Oh, I’d like.”
There was something in his expression. An intensity that eluded her. “How long have you been collecting lanterns?”
“Since I was twelve. That was when I was given an allowance. I hid what I bought. To be honest, by that age, I think I got more satisfaction from defying my father than from the lanterns themselves.”
“Do you still buy them?”
“No. I started drinking instead.”
“And when you gave that up?”
“I tried a few things. Fencing. Investments. Then spiritualism.”
“Why? Why spiritualism?” She’d always wondered.
“I wanted to know if there was anything to it. Like everyone else, I wanted something to believe in.”
“But you only found charlatans.”
“It turns out I’m rather fond of them. Of two in particular. My sister…” He kept tracing those circles. “And you.”
“Helen isn’t a charlatan.”
He laughed softly, his breath ghosting across her cheek. “You should have met her six years ago.”
All at once, the intimacy of this moment—her place on his lap, the casual affection with which he touched her, his breath on her skin—was too much. “Will you show me one?”
Clearly, he’d had other ideas as to where this interlude was headed and it took him a moment to understand what she meant. “A lantern? Now?”
“Yes.” She would not acknowledge the hard length of him pressed against her bottom. He groaned as she slipped free.
It took moments to get a magic lantern working. The one he chose, with its bellows, polished wood, and gleaming brass fittings, resembled Captain’s camera. He opened a compartment and lit the kerosene lamp inside, then operated a lever, moving through a series of glass plates. Brightly colored butterflies lit up the wall above the fireplace, then golden sunflowers, a tree laden with cherry blossom. Summer things when it was November and the world seemed to be dying around her. A simple toy shouldn’t bring a grown woman so much joy.
She glanced at Alex, but he wasn’t watching the images or even the device. His gaze was on her. His hand fell away from the lantern. A forget-me-not, blue and perfect, lit up the wall behind him as he strode toward her. What she saw in his face left her breathless, and she knew he was about to overturn everything.
He only said one word. “Stay.”
Chapter Seventeen
Evie responded more or less as Alex had feared. The word stay, so small but difficult to utter and spoken so quietly, filled the room. Thunderous silence was her only answer.
“Say something.”
Her lips parted infinitesimally a split second before she spun on her heel and marched from the room. He followed, a sense of inevitability weighing his steps.