Eden took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “I know it doesn’t make sense. But I wanted him so much, Daphne. I don’t think I’ve ever really gotten over him. Seeing him again... Well, it certainly has stirred up those old emotions.” That was putting it mildly. Her pulse still raced, and her heart still ached from the all-too-brief encounter.
“I’m sorry he refused your offer, but I think you’ve dodged a bullet.” Daphne shook her head. “That man is trouble.” She leaned closer, her voice gentling. “Most especially to your heart, I’d wager. The handsome ones always are. I thought it might begood for you to take a lover, but now that I’ve met him, I’ve changed my mind.”
Eden met her friend’s eyes and saw genuine worry there. She allowed herself a faint smile, though her chest felt tight. “It seems I am forever destined to be protected from my own folly. I loved him so much, Daphne. Or at least I thought I did.” She took a sip of the brandy, letting its warmth uncoil something deep inside her.
Daphne looked at her as though searching for signs of delirium. “I’ve never been so rattled by a man before. He’s almost too handsome for words, but there’s an intensity to him that made me uncomfortable. The entire time we spoke, I couldn’t shake the feeling that he belonged on a battlefield rather than in a drawing room. I simply don’t understand how the son of an earl can be so... raw. It’s as though the veneer of society had been scraped away, and I, for one, found it unsettling.”
Her friend wasn’t wrong. Eden could no longer imagine Max in a ballroom or wearing a fancy cravat. But those things had never been important to her. She’d always wanted someone fearless, someone to have adventures with, and the Max she’d met tonight seemed more than capable of getting her to Egypt and back safely.
“We were different people then. It’s been fifteen,” she answered, knowing that Daphne would never understand the desires that churned within her. Heaven knew that she really didn’t understand them herself.
“Fifteen years seems rather short to forgive being jilted,” Daphne countered, her brow arching. “Especially when he isn’t worthy of touching your hem.”
“That’s not true,” Eden murmured, setting the glass aside. The need to defend him, to somehow make Daphne see him as she did, flared within her, surprising her with its intensity.
“You’re supposed to call him a beast and be glad to be rid of him, not be so...,” Daphne gestured vaguely, “brooding and melancholy. I won’t have it.”
Eden wanted to agree. He was supposed to mean nothing to her now. Wasn’t that the very reason she’d sought him out? She’d really hoped to feel nothing when she saw him, to dismiss him as a drunk and a bounder. She’d hoped he’d prove that she’d been a fool for carrying a torch for him for so long.
She turned away from her friend, focusing instead on her pale reflection in the window, the night pitch black on the other side of the glass. “I wanted to know who he’s become. That’s all. I didn’t really expect him to say yes.”
“Are you certain it’s him you want to know?” Daphne’s voice was soft, too soft. “Or yourself?”
Eden ignored that question, focusing instead on what his refusal meant. “I’ll never get to Egypt now.” The brandy did little to dull the disappointment, which settled deep within her. Her hopes for the expedition were slipping away, out of reach like so much else. Max had been her unexpected, final hope.
“Perhaps this is for the best,” Daphne ventured, attempting brightness. “I know how much this means to you, but so much could go wrong. I would have been terribly worried about you every moment you were gone.”
That stung. She’d truly thought her friends supported her in this endeavor, but like everyone else, Daphne didn’t believe in her.
And Max’s rejection had made her finally start to doubt herself. If he wouldn’t help her, who would?
The rap of Max’s knuckles on Lucas Faraday’s door seemed extremely loud, echoing down the quiet street. After Eden had left the tavern, he’d remembered that Lucas wasthe one who’d recommended that she ask him to lead her expedition. He’d run into his old school friend at The Smuggler’s Lantern less than a week ago. And how could he have forgotten that Lucas was her maternal cousin?
Anger coursed through him at his friend’s betrayal, along with a deep unease. His heart still hadn’t slowed from seeing Eden again after all these years. It had taken every bit of willpower he possessed not to follow her home, ignore all the hurt between them, and beg her for just one last kiss...
Why the hell had Lucas recommended him and then had the gall to tell her where to find him? She shouldn’t have come, not after so long. Not like this. Not when he was feeling so low, as though all her father’s suppositions about his future had been right. He hadn’t accomplished anything.
The door opened, revealing a tousle-haired Lucas in an emerald silk dressing gown, blinking owlishly at his midnight visitor. Max shouldered his way inside in wordless fury.
Lucas sighed, a smile touching his lips. He had Eden’s green eyes, but his hair was dark. “And hello to you, too.” He trailed Max into the dim study, where books and papers formed untidy citadels on every surface. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this invasion?”
Max turned to him in disbelief. “What the hell were you thinking?”
“Ah, so this isn’t a social call. You must have seen Eden.” Lucas sounded more amused than contrite. He moved to the sideboard and poured two glasses, the liquid glinting amber in the lamplight. “Drink?”
“I’ve had more than enough,” Max snapped, though he accepted the glass when Lucas pressed it into his hand. “How could you tell her where to find me?” He paused, running a hand through his hair. “How could you recommend me?”
“I might have suspected it would end this way,” Lucas replied, unfazed. “But I had to try.”
“I don’t even want to know what you mean.” Max downed the drink, hoping it would smother the emotions still roiling within him. But even the warmth spreading in his chest couldn’t dull the memory of her eyes, bright and accusing. “Damn it, Lucas. She was supposed to be done with me.”
“She probably remembers you as a scholar. An Oxford lad who never faced a day’s adversity.” Lucas’s voice held a teasing note, and he tilted his head, studying Max with mock gravity. “You must have given her quite a shock.”
Max dropped into a chair, the exhaustion of the evening pulling at him. He felt worn thin, as though the sight of her had stripped him down to something raw and exposed. He looked up sharply. “I don’t care what she thought of me. She’s not my concern anymore.”
Lucas chuckled, swirling the drink in his glass. “Would that you believed it.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Max shot back, but the words lacked their earlier heat. His friend’s easy manner had always been disarming, and Max found himself wishing he hadn’t confided in him all those years ago. Lucas was the only one he’d ever talked to about Eden. The only one who knew how much he loved her.
