Niles must think her a wanton. If he’d respected her before, he certainly couldn’t now.
She’d acted no better than a common––
“This gown is ruined.” Lucy studied the frock Eve had hiked across half of England in. “Shall I leave it here? One of the maids will appreciate it.”
She’d intentionally donned one of her uglier gowns that morning. The muslin day dress made up of gray and lavender had matched her mood — empty, invisible. It ought to have been black, but that would have implied full acquiescence to her new status.
Perhaps that was why she’d acted so out of character.
She’d been a woman between roles.
She hadn’t been a wife, in truth. Could she conduct herself as a widow?
Widows were old women with silver hair and sagging skin. Eve nearly groaned.
She’d had intimate relations with her man of business! And this morning, he’d left without a word.
Not that he’d had any choice in the matter. But even so…
Lucy dropped Eve’s favorite pelisse onto her shoulders and then handed her a new pair of gloves.
She was a lady. Not a wife. Not a widow,
Not a whore.
She glanced one last time at the bed before closing the door behind her. If she wasn’t a whore, what exactly was it that had transpired in that bed last night?
Two days later,the coach turned up the drive of Pebble’s Gate, a home her husband had turned into a place where the devil himself would have felt welcome.
The landscaping had been neglected. This did not surprise her in the least. Jean Luc had spent any funds he controlled on his parties, drink, opium, and whores.
She was saddened to see her own personal garden overrun with weeds. She’d expected no less, but it had been her solace during those last years. Eve blinked away any sentimental memories. She’d begun a new garden behind her London Townhouse. After sorting everything out here, she’d leave once and for all and never return.
But she’d given birth to all three of her daughters here. Some happy memories remained.
The first time she’d entered the house, she’d been filled with innocent dreams.
Dreams.
The word reminded her of what she’d told Niles a few nights ago. That she’d only wanted a kind husband. Had that been a lie? Had she hoped for more than that? Affection? Friendship? Passion?
Had she lowered her expectations of the past in an attempt to squash her disappointment?
She’d not allowed herself much hope for the future. She’d do her best to ensure security. Comfort. She wished to see her daughters thrive. She’d not discouraged her daughters from dreaming.
Her own dreams, however, remained forever in the past. Was passion a dream? Affection?
Eve was a lady of the ton, acquainted with several unmarried older gentlemen, many widowers, who moved within society.
Niles had convinced her she was not without feminine attractions.
Niles.
She’d been unable to dismiss him from her thoughts, despite not having spoken to him since embarking on the remainder of their journey.
He’d made himself scarce since leaving The Goat and Pig, choosing to ride a mount outside instead of inside the carriage with Lucy and herself. Which was to be expected.
Except for his injury. Nobody would have questioned him for riding in the carriage in order to protect his broken ribs.
