“What a generous invitation,” her father said, oblivious to her turmoil. “Especially for dear Evelyn. It’s not good for her to be so cooped up with me.”
Evelyn drew in one final painful breath before recovering herself enough to smile. She gave the bellpull a hearty tug. “Nonsense,” she said briskly, not looking at Charles. “I enjoy our evenings together, Papa.”
“Do say you’ll come,” Charles said, his fingertips brushing Evelyn’s arm as she passed him to the sofa. She took a step back, and his hand fell away. “I’d be honoured to accompany you there, of course.”
“I suspect my health will too indifferent, given how recently I travelled back to London from Eastward Place, but Evelyn must go.”
“Papa, please!” Fear crowded Evelyn’s throat, cloying and irrational. Her father would be no real buffer, but she could not attend only to watch another lady claim the man she loved forever. For the first time since entering the room, she looked at Charles, taking in the concern on his brow. But instead of the man she’d known since childhood, she saw the man who had hovered above her, watching her pleasure with such tender intensity. She saw a man changed by desire. She saw the lines of his face tight with strain she had brought about with her body, and his eyes heavy with lust.
He could never look at her that way again once he proposed to Lady Rosamund.
Her corset felt too tight.
“Tell me,” she said to her old friend. “Who else is invited?”
“A few others,” he said, eyes hooded. “But none as important as you.”
She could have laughed.
She had long known he didn’t love her, at least not in the way a man loved a woman. Until extremely recently, she had been perfectly contented with matters as they stood. Until she had experienced his hands on her body and his mouth on hers, she had been certain that merely his friendship could satisfy her, as it had all these years.
Baldly speaking, she had been a fool, thinking herself too old to be caught up in the passions of youth. And now, as women so often did, she was paying the price.
He stepped closer. “I want you there,” he said, lower now. His hand reached for hers, and she tucked both hands behind her back so he couldn’t touch her. If he did, she would lose what little hold over her composure she still had. “What say you, Evie?”
“I can see no reason why she’d object,” her father said, breaking Charles’s attention and drawing it away from her. “We’re practically family. In fact, I insist she attend, even if I cannot.”
Evelyn gripped her wrist behind her back, nails digging into her skin, and forced a smile. “Then what have I to say on the matter?” She glanced pointedly at the clock on the mantelpiece. “Don’t you have to visit your mother, Charles?”
To his credit, he didn’t so much as blink, although the searching look didn’t leave his eyes. “Of course,” he said, and turned to her father. “Forgive me, sir. I shall see you soon enough, I am certain.” He glanced at Evelyn. “Walk me to the door, Evie?”
She followed him silently out of the room and through the long corridor from the drawing room to the hallway. Her heart ached.
“Trying to get rid of me so soon, Pidge?” he asked in a low voice so the servants would not hear. “Poorly done of you.”
“Was it? I thought it better you leave sooner rather than later, in light of the circumstances.”
“What circumstances? Your father suspects nothing.”
“Nothing now, but we should take that as a sign.”
“A sign of what?” He frowned as he looked into her face. “Yes, he is here, but he is elderly, and I could arrange a hotel if it came to it. No one need know, Evie.”
She inhaled sharply. “I am not—that is not agreeable to me, Charles.”
“No, you’re quite right; I should not have suggested it. But there must be a way in order to—”
“I think our arrangement should come to an end,” she said, keeping her voice soft. He stopped walking, and she paused with him, not daring to meet his burning gaze. “You taught me a great many things, and I’m sorry that you were not able to find gratification in our time together, but better we leave things as we are than attempt anything more dangerous to our reputations and happiness. Besides, we must not forget Lady Rosamund.”
“The deuce take Lady Rosamund!”
She almost smiled at the violence of the expression, though she knew she could not outwardly condone it. “The poor girl.”
“Oh yes, the poor girl who cares not a jot for me and is marrying me only for my title,” he said bitterly. “I’m sure she feels very hard done by.”
Evelyn led the way to the front door, but instead of opening it, she looked up at him. “Youchoseher,” she said, and he blanched. “You have made your courtship perfectly plain, and whether you like her society or not, you have chosen to spend enough time in it. These are your choices.”
“And you are another of my choices, Evie,” he said, sounding almost angry. “Now, I am choosing you. So tell me, are you truly satisfied with what we have done and no more?”
