No. Of course she was not. She was wildly, terribly unsatisfied. She had not known what dissatisfaction meant until she was denied the very thing she craved more than the rest of the joy her solitary, peaceful life had to offer. For the first time in her life, she knew passion in every inch of its unrestrained glory, and she could never go back to the existence she had known before.
And he had an engagement waiting in the wings.
Perhaps he did not love Lady Rosamund, but all thetonknew a proposal was imminent. He could not turn his back on that just because she had conceived more of an attachment to him than she had thought she might.
“Evelyn,” he started, but she shook her head.
“You have taught me so much, but perhaps it is better that I retain some of my virtue.”
He gripped her hands, holding them too tightly to be comfortable. “For what purpose? You said yourself you did not think it fair that ladies be required to remain chaste and gentlemen not. Have you changed your mind?” His expression darkened. “Or was this all for the purpose of attracting a suitor?”
“There is no suitor,” she said, raising their clasped hands so she could rest the back of his hand against her cheek. “There has never been a suitor I cared about impressing. I am thinking about your welfare.”
“Then do not,” he said shortly.
“I must.” She freed her hands. “As my father is home again, I doubt I shall see you again before the party you were so kind as to invite us to.”
He frowned. “You’re angry.”
“Of course I am. You invited me, you—yourmistressto your engagement party. How did you expect me to feel?”
“I had not—” He blinked a few times, looking perplexed by the force of her frustration. He didn’t understand how deeply he had hurt her bysuch a thoughtless invitation. “She will not be the only person there, and you mean far more to me than she ever will.”
“That’s hardly the point, Charles.” She dashed a hand across her eyes. “You humiliated me. Do you think I would rejoice at the prospect of seeing you commit yourself to another? And you invited me in such a way that I cannot escape it.”
“Don’t cry,” he said softly, smoothing a thumb over her cheeks. “Evelyn, please, don’t cry. Not over me. I’m sorry. I never intended—I never wanted to hurt you.”
Distantly, she knew that he could not have predicted what a blow this would be. She had never spoken of her feelings for him; it would have been futile. But he should have known better. He should have thought for once in his careless life.
“I know,” she said, her voice breaking shamefully. “You will do everything in your power to see to my happiness, no doubt at the risk of offending everyone else there.”
His hand was still on her cheek, thumb smoothing her cheek, devastation in his eyes. At her words or the sight of her tears, she didn’t know. The last time she had cried in front of him had been when her mother had died, and then he had been the source of her comfort, not her pain.
“You’re selfish,” she said, giving free rein to her feelings at last. He stiffened as though she had struck him. “And you hurt me.” She stepped back from him, even though every calling of her heart demanded that she step into his embrace and let him hold her. “You should go.”
Silence as he looked at her. Then he released a long, shuddering breath. “Very well. Perhaps I have already tarried too long.” His voice scraped like gravel. He captured her hand, bringing it to his lips and kissing it with such gentleness, she almost wept all over again. “Allow me to extend my most sincere apologies, Evelyn.” He released her and turned away, striding down the steps to the street.
Evelyn watched his figure until it turned the corner out of sight. Then she closed the door.
Chapter Twelve
You humiliated me.
You’re selfish. You hurt me.
The words plagued Charles as he returned home, dissatisfied and frustrated.
He’d always been a selfish being. When he considered someone else’s feelings, he did so out of affection for them alone. And so few people inspired that affection, save Evelyn. Yet, even though she was one of the few people he would have walked on broken glass for, he had contrived to hurt her. And in such a way that she had cried.
He had made her cry.
He didn’t often feel like a blackguard, but she made him feel the full weight of his sins. She had wanted more from him; she had not seen his invitation as a mark of favour and a way of being together in a way that would allow for intimacy. No, she had seen it as a means to humiliate her.
Hismistress. The term made his head ache.
She may have thought he’d humiliated her, but she had done an excellent job of humbling him.
Confound it all.
