“I do, don’t I?” she said, glancing up at him with a smile. “Even this walk might have been enjoyable, weather and all, if my partner had been more agreeable.”
“You are quite and justly right.” He sighed and tilted his head back to the sky. “It’s selfish of me.”
She nodded serenely. “It is.”
“Brat,” he said, pinching her fingers where they lay on his arm. “You do nothing for my ego.”
“It is important one is aware of one’s faults,” she said.
“Now who is abominable company? Young ladies ought to flatter their gentleman companions.”
“You would bore of me far too easily if I did.”
He blew the air from between his teeth and shook his head, laughing a little under his breath. “So I would. Never change, Evie. It is your character, not mine, that has allowed our friendship to endure this long, and I would not be without it.”
So he’d said before. But she refused to let his words give her hope—if anything, he would use them as reasons for why he shouldn’t seduce her, and that would be a travesty.
“What happened to put you in such a foul mood?” she asked instead.
He reached out a hand and brushed his fingers along the snow-laden leaves of a bush, looking at the melting shards of snow on his fingers with distant interest. “I visited my mother before coming here.”
“Ah, I see.”
“I suspect you do not, my dear. After all her fuss about my marriage, she is now telling me I ought not to marry if I do not like the girl.”
“Well,” Evelyn said, frowning a little, “I think that is sensible.”
“It is not sensible. The entiretonis buzzing about our forthcoming engagement, and though I have not yet approached her father, that's more a formality at this stage. She expects a proposal; my parents expect a proposal; the whole of London expects a proposal.” He rolled his shoulders. “And the truth is, I may as well marry her as anyone. She at least knows the score.”
“Then why are you feeling so out of sorts over the subject?”
“I suppose it made me wonder something. Are you happy, Pidge?”
“Am I happy?” She laughed a little. “What a ridiculous question. Is anyone happy all the time?”
“How about some of the time?” he urged. “Or are you at least content?”
“Content.” She mulled the word over in her mind. There were many things about her life that she liked. For example, she liked how quiet it was. She had her friends—Charles and Lady Durham being the two of note—and she had her hobbies. She enjoyed music and often visited the theatre and music halls with either Charles or her father. When at home, she had her embroidery and books. Many, many books; through them, she experienced worlds she might never have access to in real life.
But she also knew her circumstances were less than ideal. When her father died, she would have but a small jointure—she would still be independent, but would have to give up many of the luxuries she currently enjoyed. Then was the matter of . . . Well, loneliness, to state it plainly. Sometimes, when she watched the world, she felt as though all her life she had been an observer. She read of love, saw her fellows fall headlong for each other, and knew she would never experience it for herself.
Mostly, she was resigned to this way of things. But sometimes she wished she could have just a little more of the world for herself before she died.
“I am content,” she said, after a long moment. “This is my life and I am doing what I can to enjoy it. And indeed there are many things to enjoy about it. Your friendship, for instance.”
He looked at her sharply. “Have you abandoned this ridiculous notion you spoke to me about a few days ago?”
“About seduction?” She tilted her head as she recalled Lady Durham’s advice on the matter.You cannot, by any stretch of the imagination, allow him to think that you might be willing to give up on this venture if he does not honour you with his agreement.Let him think that you are willing to seek the services of someone else. A bit of jealousy would do the man good. “Should I have? Perhaps you did not wish to oblige me, but that is not to say another gentleman would not.”
His nostrils flared. “Who else would you ask?”
“I’m not yet certain. Do you have any recommendations?”
“Nogentlemanwould ever agree to such a thing.”
“Then, I suppose, I shall have to ask someone who is a little less virtuous.”
“A little less virtuous?” He caught her elbow, turning her to face him. His necktie lay sleek against the lower skin of his neck, and his cheeks were flushed with the cold, eyes bright and hard. “Evelyn, do you know what you are saying?”
