“It does not have to be,” she said.
He glanced down at her hand, and she remembered once again, with perfect clarity, how it had felt to have his mouth against her neck. She flushed, the memory heating her all over, and she snatched her hand back. His gaze flicked to hers, and for a heartbeat, she thought she saw heat there too, a fire that scorched her right to her bones.
Then he glanced back at Lady Rosamund, whose eyes were also on them. Their display would not have gone unnoticed, even if her gaze remained inscrutable.
“I believe I have a duty,” he said. “Much as it pains me to admit it. And I believe Lady Durham wishes to speak with you. Goodnight, Evie. I doubt we shall speak again this evening. Give my best wishes to your father.”
Evelyn could do nothing but watch in silence as Charles strolled to the pianoforte and exchanged a few smiling words with the lady he was doomed to marry.
The lady who was not, and never would be, her.
Chapter Four
Hilary Applebottom, The Countess of Durham, wasted no time in occupying Charles’s vacated seat, her skirts rustling and her gloved hands on her cane. Unlike Evelyn, who had never felt as though she fit anywhere, Lady Durham fiteverywhere. No party was complete without her, and she kept her finger on the pulse of theton.
Evelyn did not know why Lady Durham had befriended her with such ruthless intent. For the longest time, said friendship had been one-sided, until eventually Evelyn had caved. Even the most stubborn spirit could not resist a countess accustomed to getting her way, and doing so with undeniable charm.
Lady Durham’s particular liking of her was the only reason Evelyn still received invitations to these sorts of gatherings. She suspected the countess would wage war against anyone who attempted to exclude her, and while the thought did, at least a little, please her, it also discomfited her. Fading into the background was a far more comfortable thing to do.
“Darling,” Lady Durham said as she sat. “I amsorelieved you came tonight. I thought things might be dull, but now I am assured they will not be. How was our dearest Charles?”
Evelyn sent her friend a repressive glance. “Much the same as always.”
“It would be too much to expect anything else.” Lady Durham chewed her lip contemplatively as she looked at Charles, smiling—with morepoliteness than any good feeling—down at his intended. “I would pity the girl, but I’ve heard she’s an awfully cold thing.”
“She would have to be, to enter into an arrangement with a man who so clearly cares nothing for her.”
“Oh, that. Tosh. She just wants his title, and who wouldn’t? He’ll be aduke. An excellent catch for any girl.” Lady Durham sent Evelyn a suggestive glance. “Though I can think of other things he might be excellent at.”
Evelyn flushed. Of all her few friends, only Lady Durham knew of Evelyn’s hopes in Charles’s direction. What she did not know was the depth of the tenderer feelings Evelyn harboured. Considering they both knew of his rakish tendencies, it hardly seemed like a demonstration of good judgement, and as a spinster of decidedly middle age, Evelyn had little else to her name but the reputation of good sense.
“Hush,” she said. “What if someone overhears you?”
Lady Durham glanced around. “Considering you have chosen to sit away from the centre of the room, and there is no one directly about us, I think our conversation is as private as anywhere. Now, tell me everything. Did you approach him?”
“I did.” She suppressed her sigh, judging it to be a little too heartfelt. “He said he would not think of it, and it would change our friendship.”
“Why, so it would. Do you suppose ladies are often merely friends with their former lovers?” Lady Durham clicked her tongue. “If you were together in that way, Iguaranteehe would not look at you in the same way again. He might even fall in love with you, although men are fickle creatures, and we cannot rely on the promptings of their hearts in these matters.”
Evelyn put her empty teacup and saucer on the chair beside her. “I’m not expecting him to fall in love with me.”
“Yes, you’re far too sensible for that.” Her friend looked at her approvingly. “I quite agree. Expecting constancy from a man so little inclined to it wouldbe foolish indeed.”
“He has been constant to me,” Evelyn said, unable to prevent herself from coming to his defence. “He has always looked out for me, even when we were children together.”
“Aye, I’ll give him that.” Lady Durham tapped her teaspoon delicately against the rim of her cup. “But how far has that inconvenienced him?”
“I—” Evelyn considered this for a moment. “I don’t know. Not overly, perhaps.”
“Precisely. Never forget the selfishness of men, and it will serve you well.” She glanced at Evelyn. “What do you intend to do now?”
Evelyn licked her lips. His rejection had been a blow, and she didn’t know how to proceed. His imminent engagement made the matter urgent—if she did not act now, he would propose to Lady Rosamund and she would lose her chance forever. She didn’t want to give up, but she didn’t know how she could continue.
“I don’t know,” she admitted.
“Is there no one else you could ask?”
“None whom I trust.”
