Vaughn wrinkled his brow, surprised by the concern that filled him at the statement. He had no real relationship with Evelina to worry about what she did and yet that was the emotion. “What do you mean?”
“She is reaching out to that poxy fuck Southwater and trying to discuss what he’s done to you both first. I suppose to give him a chance to prove he’s not a bastard of the highest order, even though he is most definitely that.”
Vaughn recoiled slightly at the idea of Evelina speaking to his former friend. “I don’t think she’ll like his answers.”
“Nor do I. But I’m more concerned about how he’ll behave if he’s alone with her. I suppose you’re biased, but do you think he could be…aggressiveif directly met with accusations?”
It would have been easy for Vaughn to immediately say yes, to weaponize this man who looked like he knew exactly how to throw a punch against the friend who had betrayed him. But as much as he longed to do so, he found himself shaking his head.
“No. I cannot say he won’t be cruel. But I can’t picture him putting a hand on her. He’s a different kind of…what did you call him?”
“A poxy fuck,” Windham said easily.
“Yes, that fits nicely. Southwater is a different kind of poxy fuck than that.”
Windham’s brows lifted as if he were surprised Vaughn hadn’t given the worst possible version of Southwater. But then he nodded. “That’s good to know. She’s supposed to reach out to me when her meeting has been arranged so that I can be there just in case she needs protection despite your belief.”
Vaughn nodded, but he still felt more concerned about Evelina’s heart over her body. The idea of directly addressing the person who had caused such pain sounded fine enough, but he knew from bitter experience that there would likely only be more heartbreak to come from it. Southwater could be so cold, so hard, when he no longer cared about a person. Vaughn had already seen Evelina crumple once. Christ, she’d nearly been run down in the street because of it. He hated to think of her doing the same again when the very man who had broken her spirit would get the pleasure of seeing her collapse.
“And now I think we’ve dug into this wound more than enough,” Windham said. “Why don’t we talk about something else? Do you still go to Ripley’s to box?”
“Yes, every Thursday morning like clockwork. It’s been a welcome release.”
“I’d say so. I think I’ll start going again now that I’m back in Town. My middle brother, Reg, goes and cannot stop talking about it.”
They continued the conversation about the boxing club and its owner and Vaughn was happy for such normalcy. But he couldn’t stop thinking about Evelina and her plan to speak to Southwater.
Perhaps he should call on her. Try to dissuade her. After all, he already knew the cost of such a thing, why shouldn’t she be helped so she wouldn’t have to pay the same? He owed her that, perhaps, after being the one to spring the awful truth on her.
* * *
Evelina paced her parlor floor, alternating wringing her hands before herself and smoothing her skirt over and over. She kept glancing at the clock, counting down to the time she was waiting for and the arrival she anticipated. Harry would be here soon.
She had dressed for battle, of course. She’d learned that from Simone Stanhope and Arabella over the years. Her fashionable and somewhat revealing green gown was cut to perfection to remind a man what he’d once had and lost. Her hair was exactly as he’d liked it best. She even wore a piece of jewelry he’d once given her, a jade amulet that hung between her breasts to draw the eye.
It wasn’t seduction. No, that was a different kind of war paint. Today she dressed for regret. To remind him of his if he felt any part of it.
A carriage turned into her drive and she caught her breath. He was early, which was against his character. Harry was never early, which could only mean he was anticipating this meeting as much as she was. She hated that the fact gave her hope. She wasn’t trying to reunite with the man, after all.
After a moment, there was a light knock on the door and she clutched her hands together as the butler, Parsons, stepped in. “You have a visitor, Miss Comerford.”
“Show him in!” she gasped out without waiting for further announcement.
Parsons stepped aside and allowed the gentleman behind him to enter. But it wasn’t Southwater—it was Lord Blackburn. She tried to school her expression, but she felt her face fall as her hands dropped to her sides.
“I…oh, Lord Blackburn!”
He inclined his head. “I know you weren’t expecting me, though it seems you are expecting someone.”
She glanced at the clock again. There was less than ten minutes before Southwater was supposed to arrive and here was Blackburn, his mortal enemy, in her parlor.
“I am, I am expecting someone,” she said. “You—you shouldn’t be here.”
His brow wrinkled at her rude response and then his eyes went wide. “I thought you were supposed to make sure Windham was here with you when Southwater came to call.”
Her mouth dropped open in shock at that casual statement. “What are you—how do you know that? I realize you park yourself outside of my old home watching there, but please tell me you aren’t stalkingmydoor, as well.”
There was a flicker of annoyance that moved over his face. “No! I saw your brother-in-law at my club earlier today and he mentioned your intended meeting.”
