The words released a flood of memories. Through force of will, Evie kept them at bay.
Do not think of the past. It is over and done. Remain in control.
This self-directed counsel usually helped her to maintain her composure. Yet the recent violence had awakened the shadows inside her. Present and past had bled together in her dreams, and she’d awoken two nights in a row, strangled by screams. Her nightmares were not new; the only time she was free of them was on those rare occasions when James spent the night with her.
But he wasn’t here. He remained at Bottoms House and had sent no word regarding his return. After her curt note and abrupt departure, his indifference was to be expected.
She told herself she’d done the right thing. Their night of passion had exposed too much—made her want too much. It was safer to withdraw and put distance between them. Left to her own devices, she’d been avoiding sleep, focusing instead on work. Here, encased by glass and greenery, no one would bother her—or hear her sob.
“There, there, now.”
Harkness pulled Evie into a hug as if she were the small girl she’d once been. The familiar, astringent mix of cloves and camphor burned Evie’s nostrils. She allowed herself to be held before pulling away.
“I am fine.” She managed a smile. “There is no need to fuss.”
Harkness sniffed. “Someone must look after you since your husband seems unequal to the task.”
“That is unfair,” Evie said hotly.
Despite her marital woes, she would not allow anyone to attack James.
“Manderly has always protected me. For blossom’s sake, he married me, a nobody, so that I would not have to face the consequences of ruination. More recently, he tracked down the fiends who captured Gigi and me and took a life to save mine.”
She paced, hating that James had been forced to commit violence on her behalf. She brought little enough to their marriage, and the idea of further unbalancing the scales caused a burning in her throat.
“He did what no man of conscience should ever have to do. It pains me greatly, Harkness, that he will have to live with the consequences.”
“Your husband did what needed to be done,” Harkness said crisply. “The only thing he should regret is not getting there earlier. And what was he thinking, letting you return to Grove Hall unaccompanied?”
“That was not his choice. I left when he was sleeping, so don’t you blame him for that.”
Evie stopped pacing, hugging her arms around herself. Fleeing had been cowardly, and she knew it. Yet the notion of facing James after their scorching encounter had overwhelmed her.
“If only you could see yourself, sunflower, how beautiful you are.” His voice had been deeper than she’d ever heard it, his words shockingly wicked—and titillating. “Your petals spread so prettily for my cock, and your bottom is blushing from being taken this way. Do you like it?”
She’d loved it. And she’d been so lost in desire that she’d told him so.
“Yes, yes. Take me harder, James. I want you so badly…”
While James had enjoyed himself—his stamina had been exceptional, even for him—he was not stupid. He would have questions. He would want to know why she’d never been this wanton before. Maybe he would accuse her of concealing her true nature. Maybe, in the light of day, he would be repulsed by the wickedness she tried so hard to hide.
Despite his lapse into carnality, James was a proper gentleman to the core. Recalling the shameless way she’d begged for his attentions sent a hot wave of humiliation through her. True, James had seemed as lost in the moment as she’d been: his earthy vocabulary had been entirely, thrillingly at odds with his character. Yet society harbored a double standard when it came to how gentlemen and ladies should behave, and while James was no hypocrite, he was rather straitlaced.
If Evie were honest, however, she feared his curiosity more than his condemnation. She couldn’t afford to have him digging into her past. Her secrets were too dangerous—and could compromise his future. From the start, she’d known she was no good for him, and that conviction had grown stronger as he had begun to pursue his ambitions.
With his charisma and leadership abilities, James had a natural flair for politics. When he spoke, people listened. She’d watched him enthrall guests at balls and supper parties with his proposals to help the working class. One day, James would inherit the right to take his papa’s place in the House of Lords; until then, he had other options open to him. Of late, his cronies had been urging him to stand for election in the House of Commons. He’d demurred, yet she understood him and knew where his aspirations lay. For James, privilege was a responsibility: he believed it was his duty to put the power and position he’d been given to good use.
Truth be told, she was proud of James—proud that he wasn’t just another louche aristocrat. He could do anything he put his mind to, and he wished to reform the political system to benefit everyone, not just the select few. In particular, he advocated for fair treatment of the working poor, care and compassion for soldiers returning from war, and public health and sanitation for all. Indeed, she had helped him to encapsulate his policies within a single motto: “Dignity for every life touched by labor, by service, or by suffering.”
His plans could improve the lives of so many…and she could destroy them in a blink. For as noble as his cause was, it did not stand a chance against scandal. She could ruin him—his reputation and his ambitions.
I will not allow that to happen. If push comes to shove, I will leave him before I allow him to be hurt because of me. Because of the sin I can never erase.
“Men are all the same,” Harkness said.
“Manderly is different,” Evie insisted. “I wish you would try to get along with him. He has been exceedingly generous to us both.”
“I earn my keep and always have.” Harkness set her shoulders back. “While I may not have pretty references like your fancy lady’s maid, I daresay I can turn you out as well as she can. Moreover, I have looked out for your best interests from the time you were born. When your papa died, I was the one who looked after you while your mama lost herself to grief. I was the one who warned her against remarrying. I was the one who tried to protect you both from Wilmington.”
