“Oh, Arabella says that anytime she tries to push you, you tell her to go spend time with Silas. You tell her she’s a newlywed and ought to still be wearing out every piece of furniture in that big new house of theirs.”
Evelina pursed her lips. “Well. I’m correct on that score. She really should be enjoying her marriage, not worrying about her silly sister who should have known better than to trust the promises of a protector.”
Julia’s expression softened and she covered Evelina’s hand. “Oh, Evie. That wasn’t your failing, but his. He never should have made those promises if he didn’t intend to keep them.”
“We don’t need to talk about it in circles all over again, everyone must be getting tired of it.” Evelina withdrew her hand and got up to pace to the window. “I truly don’t wish to go out.”
Julia frowned. “Please.” She moved to the window, as well and reached up to brush some hair away from Evelina’s forehead. “Come on, lovie, it’s just you and me, isn’t it? I miss spending time with you. I miss laughing with you. Please, won’t you come with me and go gaming at Flynn’s?”
Evelina shut her eyes with a long sigh. This was the last thing she wanted, but she’d very rarely been able to deny her sweet baby sister. Julia knew exactly how to bat her eyelashes and get what she wanted. And she’d picked the location of her request well, too. Harry hadn’t ever liked Flynn’s and had only gone there when Evelina dragged him. It was almost impossible that he would be there now.
“Oh, very well,” she said with a shake of her head as Julia clapped her hands in delight. “I suppose the longer I stay locked up in my sad little dungeon, the harder it will ever be to return to the world. Might as well face the whispers now and start anew.”
Julia squeezed her hands. “We are going to make you look so beautiful that no one will whisper about anything except how glorious you are. Come, I’ll ring the bell and we’ll pick a gown. I’d say either the blue with the silver roping or that pink thing that makes men drool when they look at your cleavage.”
Her sister rushed across the room to ring for Deborah and Evelina found herself laughing, though it sounded rusty, indeed. She didn’t want to go out, but perhaps her sister was correct. Perhaps it was what she actually needed.
And it was happening either way. So she might as well make the best of it.
* * *
The last six months of the Earl of Blackburn’s life had been a living nightmare. Divorce was almost unheard of in any class, but certainly not often in the Upper Ten Thousand. And yet that was what Vaughn was enduring, first in private and now in scandalized and gossiping public. His wife of five years, Florence, had demanded the official divorce and the more he’d uncovered about her behavior behind his back, the more he’d realized this was truly the only way. Those facts didn’t reduce the humiliation when he went out in public and all eyes followed him.
Even here in Flynn’s gambling hell where everyone was usually doing something worth talking about, he felt them watchinghim, heardhisname flicker by on the wind.Wife. Divorce. Affair.
Vaughn downed his second drink in less than twenty minutes and let the burn of the whisky recenter him. That was the idea, anyway, but it didn’t work. His mind kept spinning, kept taking him to dark places. Dark feelings. He hated everything and everyone, including himself. Perhaps mostly himself. What he wanted most was to lock himself away like some beast in a fairytale and never come out again. He was well on the way to that end, given that whenever anyone came close, he found himself growling and snapping.
He never should have come out. And he was preparing to down yet another drink and then head back to his home and its drawn curtains when he saw a woman enter the hell.
Evelina Comerford. Seeing her made the sting in his chest even worse, considering what he now knew about the end of his marriage. But he didn’t blame Evelina for that. He’d always liked the pretty courtesan, with her gentle disposition and bright laugh.
As always, she stood out. She was wearing a bright pink frock that was dangerously low cut with paste jewels in a tantalizing trail along the midline. Her dark hair was spun up in soft curls that trailed artfully along her very bare shoulders. But her face…he saw the pain in her face even though she tried to hide it. A pain very like his own.
She was with her younger sister, Julia Comerford, another of the infamous Comerford Courtesans, a group which included Evelina’s oldest sister, Arabella. Though, one could hardly callhera courtesan anymore. She’d recently married Silas Windham, who Vaughn had known vaguely in school and liked well enough.
Evelina looked around the room for a moment, her lips pursed as if she were troubled. He understood that better than most. Then her gaze caught his and she gave a little smile and a tiny wave. She said something to her sister and then began across the room toward him. He was rather shocked she was doing so when it would only cause more talk, especially given the last twenty-four hours.
But he had no intention to refuse her and stood as she arrived to him, inclining his head slightly. “Miss Comerford,” he said.
She gave a rusty laugh. “Oh, my lord, you cannot revert back to Miss Comerford after years of calling me Evelina. Just because I’m no longer with Southwater doesn’t mean we aren’t friends.” She hesitated and there was a flicker of concern that entered her gaze. “Unless it does?”
He shook his head. “Indeed, not. I would be honored to be counted as one of your friends. I think I prefer your friendship at any rate. Far less damaging.”
She cocked her head as if she were confused by that statement and then her expression became lined with pity. “We haven’t seen each other in some time. I wanted to say how sorry I am, my lord.”
He reached out for the drink he’d set on the bar top behind him when she approached and downed what remained in one burning gulp. “As am I for you. How are you coping with all this?”
“Well, it’s been a month since Harry and I parted ways.” She smiled but it was clearly forced. “And a courtesan must be sensible, mustn’t she?”
He wrinkled his brow because it felt like they were holding two separate conversations. “I suppose. But I meant about everything that’s come out in the last day or so. It must trouble you, even if you play off the importance of the affiliation.”
“I—” She struggled for words for a moment, her brow wrinkling. “I’m not sure I take your meaning, my lord.”
He felt the blood spiral away from his cheeks as he realized why there had been a disconnection in their interaction so far. Lord, what had he just done? He cleared his throat. “You—you didn’t know. You haven’t heard the news.”
She was staring at him like a doe who’d been startled by a hunter. Like she was frozen with fear about whatever horror he was about to reveal. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He drew in a sharp breath and that self-loathing he’d been contemplating earlier rushed forward even more powerfully. “My goodfriend, your former lover, the Duke of Southwater has been fucking my wife. For over a year. And now they’re no longer hiding it. Apparently when this wretched divorce mess is finally resolved, he intends to marry her, scandal be damned.”
