Dear Evie,
I hope you are well and the information trade is to your profit.
I find myself in a predicament.
I have met a man here—I will not say who, sodo not ask—and begun an affair. He is very much my usual type. Nervous. Very pretty.
I had resolved to ruin him and be done with it. But I find I feel more than I care to. What would you do in such a circumstance?
Annabelle
P.S. Tell no one of this. Not even Matilda.
Two days later, I received the following response written in Evie’s uneven hand:
Dear Annie,
(Evie always calls me Annie, when no one else does. It is ridiculous—but I tolerate it).
Ah, the queen of ice has melted! I cannot imagine how HANDSOME he must be if he has vanquishedyou.
What is to be done, my love? If the man has enchanted you, you must be enchanted. God knows, you have money enough to recover from a mistake.
If you want to take the man back to London with you, then I am sure you can purchase him for your own exclusive use.
But do hurry back. We miss you here.
Always yours,
Evie Colley
The letter makes my throat catch. My desire to see Alfred, which was keen before, flames into something more.
I wrote Evie instead of Matilda because I knew she would take it lightly. And I suspected she would give me license to do whatever I please.
While it heartens me to hear from Evie, it doesn’t solve any of my problems.
It has been almost a week since I last saw Alfred and I am miserable.
I have prepared to leave for London—but I cannot do it. Not without seeing him again.
It is Sunday morning and, after reading Evie’s letter, Iam in agony.
She makes the affair sound so simple. And perhaps it is. Perhaps it is as simple as wanting him and letting myself have him.
I need to see him again, especially since I was so cold to him at our last parting.
My pride has evaporated under the heat of my desperation.
I decide to do something objectively mad.
I decide to go to church.
Chapter 22
Annabelle
Itell myself that if I can sit in my family pew—which I know is kept empty out of respect for my brothers and father—and look up at Alfred, I might find peace.
