“I think you and Lord Hamilton could have a proper marriage,” Prue said, shocking Evie again, as she’d not expected those words to come out of her sister’s mouth. “He has a fierce reputation that, in truth, terrifies me, but I have seen the way he looks at you.”
Prue hurried past Evie, and turned again to walk backward, which was now extremely vexing and no longer worrying. In fact, she hoped she tripped. Then this discussion? Argument? Was over.
“You cannot be serious,” Evie said, stomping on the seed of hope those words planted inside her. “We have a deal. I am helping him avoid his aunts’ pressure to wed, and he is helping me avoid marriage to Lord Cavendish and make you popular so you can marry well. We have a bargain, which will end with the season.”
“Things change, and I saw how gentle he was with you last night—”
“Must you romanticize everything?” Evie snapped.
“I am not romanticizing; I am being truthful, and if you were not so mule-headed and opened your eyes, perhaps you could see what I do.”
Evie scoffed. “You have known him only a handful of days, and barely held a conversation and suddenly you know he is a good man with a bad reputation, who would be good for me?”
“Yes.”
“No!” Evie shrieked. “Lord Hamilton and I have nothing in common, nor do we wish to. He will wed someone with blood as blue as his when the time is right and carry on with his licentious lifestyle. Now this discussion is over.”
“No, it is far from over,” Prue said. She then turned and the Spencer sisters stormed back to the house in a silence so loud she was sure they heard it an hour’s drive by carriage away.
They rarely fought, and if they did, it was over quickly. This felt different. A deeper conflict that could have consequences, and yet Evie was hurting too much to bridge the gap. She’d done everything she could to give Prue this season, and her sister was behaving like she was a pious saint for putting her family’s welfare before herself.
Was she?
Chapter Twenty-Three
Anthony hadn’t sleptmore than a few hours after returning home last night. He’d thought about gambling or calling on his mistress. Neither had created so much as a flicker of interest in him. So, he’d gone to the room downstairs where he’d hung a punching bag and beat it until he could think no more.
Cavendish wanted to ruin Evangeline Spencer because of him. She may believe she played some part in that, but he knew differently.
He should never had entered this foolish arrangement between them, because now she would need to be protected… by him.
Sipping his coffee, he wondered at this feeling inside him. The fierce need he’d felt last night to maim Cavendish and Calthorpe for hurting her. Anthony had worked hard not to show anger or pain. He fought his demons by doing the things that made him feel, and they’d grown more daring and aggressive. But now he wasn’t sure anything would draw his attention away from her.
Where before he’d actively sought anything that would rid him of the cold and make him feel, even for a few minutes, now he wanted to feel nothing when she was near.
Anthony knew something was changing inside him, and he didn’t like it, because he couldn’t control it. He reminded himself again to keep his distance from Evangeline Spencer.
His aunts arrived in a flurry of excitement as Anthony was eating his breakfast. They burst into his parlor all talking at once.
“Anthony!” Aunt Petunia ran to him with her short black dog, Monty, on her heels. It yapped and turned circles as he regained his feet, bracing for the inevitable. “You’re engaged to Miss Spencer! We could not be happier.”
“So happy,” his other two aunts parroted.
“Monty, enough!” he bellowed as the dog kept barking excitedly.
“He is just happy, aren’t you, darling?” Aunt Aggie said. “We traveled straight here once we heard the news.”
“How is it you got the news of my engagement miles from London?” Anthony said as he waved them into seats, resigned his morning meal would be shared with his aunts. Monty then leapt at him. He caught the dog and returned to his chair.
“A note arrived from Bessie. You remember her dear, Lady Riddle. Well, her daughter told her, and she sent word immediately, which is what you should have done.”
“I wanted to tell you in person and had planned to do so today.”
All three of them harrumphed.
“Tea, Dibley, and lashings of it, as we have much to discuss,” Aunt Petunia said. “Before we go to the exhibition.”
“Much to discuss,” Aunt Lavinia added. “Also, Dibley, if Cook has baked some of those lemon biscuits, we would not be displeased.”
