He slid her a long glance that held too many secrets. Usually, she could read him well enough, but not today. “My apologies.”
She opened her mouth to apologise for what she asked him the previous day, but the words failed her. Even now, at the memory of his rejection, her gut curled in humiliation. And sitting beside her in this way, he must be thinking of it, too.
She recalled the feeling of his lips on her neck, and she flushed.
“Pidge.” Charles’s voice was stern, but there was a thread of kindness in it. “No awkwardness.”
“I—”
“I won’t stand for it.”
She looked at him for the first time, and found a smile in his eyes, warmth there just for her. No matter what he thought of her suggestion, at least he still looked at her with affection. And besides, he had called her beautiful, and although she doubted the veracity ofthatstatement, she did not doubt his reasoning for turning her down.
“Very well,” she said, forcing her tone to return to normal. “No awkwardness.”
“Now tell me what it is about this performance that made you scowl.” He nodded at the front where the girl twanged another slightly flat note.
Evelyn winced. “I did notscowl.”
“That observation wasn’t up for discussion.”
She rolled her eyes and opted for a half-truth. “I was merely thinking how sorry I feel for the child on display.”
“You needn’t. She’s caught the eye of Mr Rollings, and he’s as rich as Thebes. No doubt she’ll be set for life.”
“Do you think she has such material concerns?”
“What woman does not?” He laughed when she caught his eye. “Aside from you, of course. I know you are above such reproach.”
“I have my own vices, I am sure.” She snapped her jaw shut, thinking back to the vice she had admitted to, and so recently.
A line appeared between his brows, and he lounged back in his chair, insouciant almost to the point of impropriety. After a second, he said, “Don’t tell me you’re going to be missish around me now, Pidge. Icouldn’t bear to lose your friendship. Who else am I to talk to in times such as these?”
Evelyn glanced around the room. There were several people with whom he could talk, and several more whom she doubted he ever wanted to exchange words with again in his life. To begin with, his mother and father were in attendance, though seated separately. The duchess had chosen a seat beside one of her old friends, and the duke was deep in discussion with Lady Rosamund’s father. And there, sitting primly with her mother, sat Lady Rosamund herself.
Evelyn had exchanged very few words with the lady in question. There was very little to connect them, save Charles, and he had made no attempt to acquaint them. From what Evelyn knew, Lady Rosamund was a good sort of girl in her first Season with a large dowry and a family name going back generations. She was also—and this confession came with a private twist—extremely beautiful, with rich dark hair and deep brown eyes. Most gentlemen would be tripping over themselves to have her hand in marriage.
It gratified her that Charles was not one of those gentlemen.
Lady Rosamund glanced in their direction, and Evelyn turned away.
“Your future bride is looking at us,” Evelyn said. “Should you not speak to her as well?”
“Where do you think I escaped from?” He let out a low groan. “Believe me, I have no desire to return so soon.”
“Do you dislike her so much?”
“Lord, no. There’s nothingtodislike. And nothing to like, either. We are both marrying for convenience’s sake and nothing else. I am over twice her age, and I suspect she has as much fondness for me as I do for her. No doubt we shall make a fine pairing.”
“Does that satisfy you?” she asked, unable to hold her tongue. “The prospect of a marriage with so little affection?”
“Should it not? What else am I to expect? Some great love?” He reached over for her tea and took a sip. Then he made a face as he replaced it on the saucer. “Foul stuff, Pidge. Where did you get this dirt?”
“I was offered it earlier,” she said. “And I haven’t been drinking it because I don’t like the taste.”
“Good. Pour it into a plant pot.”
“Would that not be rude?”
