“Well, I’d think it poor-spirited of you if you were to deny me something you’ve had for years. Or are you telling me that I would be your first lover?”
The thought of Evelyn as hislovermade something in his lower regions tighten. “Of course not, but—”
“Then I hardly see the issue. Unless you truly arenotattracted to me, which I concede would be a problem we cannot overcome.”
He wasn’t entirely sure how the conversation had gone quite so awry. “That’s not the problem, Evie. I’ve never—that has never been the problem.”
She blinked at him, but he noticed the way her hands crept together in her lap. The anxious way her thumbs moved across her skin, soothing herself the way a mother might soothe a child. And he realised, with a pang of regret, that somewhere along the conversation he had managed to hurt her.
“Evie,” he said, and sighed. Dropping to his knees beside her chair, he took her hands in his. “Surely you must understand my reluctance has everything to do with your reputation and nothing to do with the—the physical ramifications.”
“I don’t find it logical.”
With a smile, he pressed her fingers to his lips. “Of course you don’t.”
“I mean it, Charles. Why should a woman be denied, merely because of her sex? Why has society degreed that I, if I do not marry, must die a maid, and you need not do so?”
“I am going to marry,” he said, unnecessarily. “And even if I were not—you’d be ruined.”
“Only if someone else knew. And will you tell them?”
“Of course not! But what if you do marry another?”
“I will not.”
Silence fell between them. He knew she meant what she said—likely she was right, too. Gentlemen did not usually look for wives amongst spinsters of her age unless they were looking for a second marriage and no children—and even then, she would not be the obvious choice, given she so infrequently attendedsocial events.
Of course, if someone fell in love with her, it would be a different story altogether.
He dismissed the thought as quickly as it came. For a long time now, all he’d wanted from her was her happiness, and he doubted that marriage alone could solve that unless she entered into it with both arms wide and her heart open.
Would another man treasure her quirks as he should?
That did not seem his concern. But he lingered on the idea longer than he should before returning to the matter at hand.
Seduction.
“You don’t know what you’re asking of me,” he said, urging her to her feet so they both stood on the rug before the hearth. “You are asking for something a man does not give a mere friend.” He trailed his finger along her jawline, watching as goosebumps pinpricked her skin. “You want me to ravish you. I don’t think you understand what that entails.” He brought his other hand to her waist, holding her far more firmly than he ever had before. “Our friendship would not survive it,” he murmured, bringing his head down to the enticing curve of her neck and—just—letting his mouth brush her skin.
She stood still in his embrace, barely breathing. Like a deer caught in plain sight, or a rabbit trapped against a fence line. Lovely, but rigid. He could see the way her heartbeat pulsed in her neck, and he brought a thumb to it, counting the beats. Fast—though from fear or something else, he couldn’t be sure.
Little Evelyn, so proper and polite, who had made no advances towards him. He’d assumed all these years that she had no desires, no dissatisfaction about this aspect of her life.
Yet there could be no denying that she found even this overwhelming.
Her breath shuddered across his cheek as she looked up at him, and he stepped back. “You see? You would not be comfortable, and we would never be able to look at each other the same way again.”
“Charles—”
“I won’t hear any more about it.” He retrieved his hat and replaced it on his head. “We would not suit, Evie. Andnotbecause you are anythingbut beautiful.” He touched her chin, thumb grazing her bottom lip, and something stirred in him. Desire he’d put to slumber long ago, and that her request had awoken again. “You are lovely, and if I were another man, perhaps I would consider it, but I am not, and I will not. Give my regards to your father when he returns from the country, and tell him my father will call on him shortly.” With a bow, he strode from the room.
“If you were another man,” Evelyn said, though there was no one there to hear her, “I would not have asked you.”
Chapter Three
Evelyn did not usually make a habit of attending social events. Or, at least, she had not done so since the age of five-and-twenty, at which point she had largely retired her position in society and dedicated her life to looking after her elderly father.
The difficulty came, of course, when said father insisted on her attendance.
