Sins of a Wicked Duke (The Penwich School for Virtuous Girls #1)(9)

Evie’s hand flew to her mouth.

“I’ll return tomorrow to collect all my things. As things stand, I don’t think it wise to return tonight.”

Evie wrapped an arm around her shoulders and led her to a striped chintz sofa. “Of course not. But what happened? You said the new post was going well.”

Biting her lip, Fallon sank down beside Evie and reluctantly confessed the night’s deeds. Well…all save the last bit. No need to describe her encounter with the wretched Duke of Damon.

“I’m sorry to prevail upon you like this. I’ve no wish to jeopardize your new position.” She lifted one shoulder in a weak shrug. “I have nowhere else to go.”

Evie cut her off with a swift shake of her head. “You will stay here for the night. And after that…” Her voice faded. Uncertainty flickered in her soft blue eyes. She squeezed Fallon’s hand. Fallon nodded, understanding. In the morning, Evie sailed for Barbados to deposit Miss Pratt into the hands of her waiting groom.

Untying the strings at her throat, she removed her cloak. “I’ll find something tomorrow. A new post. A better one.” She gave a small, brittle laugh. “I always do.” Well, perhaps notbetter . But she did not want Evie to fret.

“Perhaps you can explain what happened to Mrs. Jamison. Surely she cannot fault you for her son’s—”

“She can,” Fallon interrupted again. “She will.” She shrugged with a lightness she did not feel. “Family tends to stick together, I’ve learned. Mrs. Jamison won’t take the word of a maid over her precious son.”

“Oh, Fallon, you’ve the worst luck.”

Luck. Fallon supposed she could believe that. Believe that luck alone—or lack thereof—was responsible for all the events of her life. But to believe that, she must accept that she bore no responsibility, no control over her own life. And that, she refused to accept.

“Oh, Fallon.” Evie glanced around her well-appointed room, biting her lip when her gaze landed on her large trunk. Fallon imagined she was contemplating a way to smuggle her into her luggage and stow her aboard ship.



Fallon’s gaze drifted, appreciating the fine rosewood furniture, the four-poster bed, the counterpane that looked plump and inviting, definitely down-stuffed. A marked improvement from the cots they slept on at Penwich.

As though reading Fallon’s mind, Evie muttered, “You deserve all this, too. You’re just as qualified as I to hold such a position.”

Would she have had this? If she had stuck it out and taught a few years at Penwich as Evie had done—earning the experience and letters of reference needed to land such a coveted post?

And seen Brocklehurst’s face one day more than necessary?Fallon shivered. He never had it in for Evie and Marguerite as with her.

“I land on my feet.” She would not have Evie depart for Barbados worrying for her. Not when she was about to embark on her long-waited adventure. “I’ll find a new situation tomorrow.”

“You’re welcome to stay here until we depart in the afternoon. Hettie never ventures into my room.” Her smooth brow creased. “Are you certain you will be able to find another post in so short a time?”

“Of course.” And if not, Fallon vowed it would not be Evie’s cross to bear.

Evie shook her head, her plait of honey brown hair tossing on her shoulder. “I don’t know,” she began, but stopped at the sharp screech erupting one room over.

Fallon jumped where she sat, her hand flying to her heart. “What on earth—”

“Eve! Eve! I need you! Get in here at once!”

“Good Lord. Is that your charge?”

Evie closed her eyes in a weary blink.

The screech came again. “Eve!”

Fallon arched a brow.“Eve?”

“She insists on calling me Eve.”

Master Brocklehurst had called her that, and Fallon knew how much her friend hated the designation. “Sounds like a lovely girl.” She gave a shaky smile.

“I haven’t all night, Eve!”

“Weeks aboard a ship’s cabin together.” Evie shuddered. “I’m starting to wonder…this might not be the adventure I planned.” Rising to her feet, she strode to the adjoining door, rolling her eyes. “You’ll have to excuse me. The royal highness beckons. It’s only the fifth time she’s called upon me tonight.”

Facing the door, Evie squared her shoulders. “She probably needs me to stoke the coals in the grate. Again.” She motioned to the wardrobe against the far wall. “Feel free to make yourself comfortable. I have a night rail that should fit well enough.” She gave a quick apologetic smile. “If a bit short, though.”

Lifting the latch to the adjoining room, she quickly entered and closed the door behind her.

Taking advantage of Evie’s offer, Fallon rummaged through her things until she located a spare nightgown. Closing the wardrobe, she passed the grate, the warmth from the coals a comforting stroke on her bare calves. For a moment, she allowed herself to forget tonight…to forget the duke with the mesmerizing blue-gray eyes and wicked smile and all the sinful things he had done within the shadows of that coach. And without.

Face burning, she fell back on the luxurious counterpane. At least she had a night of comfort. With Evie, no less. Stretching her arms over her head, her thoughts drifted to the duke again.Bloody man—men! They could be as depraved as they liked. They could do whatever they wanted. Even if they lacked coin, they could venture out and find respectable work without suffering all the nonsense she endured.