The horse was brought to the door and he squeezed her hand. “I’ll see you for supper.”
She nodded and watched him go, waving him down the drive. Only when he was gone did she realize she’d just bade him farewell like a wife would do, not a lover. And that it had felt right and easy to do so.
“You’re an idiot,” she admonished herself.
“I beg your pardon, Miss Comerford?” Vaughn’s butler, Langley, asked from behind her, his expression kind and open and not at all judgmental even when his master was gone.
“Oh, nothing, Langley. I think I’ll take the carriage now, if it’s no trouble to prepare it.”
“No trouble at all, miss. Give us but a few moments.”
“I’ll fetch my wrap and be down shortly, please tell them to take their time. I’m in no rush and don’t want to be a bother.”
She went upstairs, drawing deep breaths as she did so. She truly had to get herself back under control in this situation. Because she wasn’t the lady of this house and she never would be. Today she had to do everything she could to remember that.
* * *
Any calm or lightness that Vaughn had felt the last few days with Evelina was gone now that he sat in the cramped office of his solicitor, Mr. Robach, piles of papers to be signed perched in front of him. It wasn’t just the inconvenience of it all, or the humiliation of it, or even the judgment he always saw on this man’s face, even if he was being paid an exorbitant amount of money for his services. All those things came together in a swirl and made Vaughn question his own intelligence, his own capacity to evaluate the character of others, or even himself.
“You say this is the bulk of the paperwork,” he said while he scratched his signature on the last of the teetering pile.
“Yes, my lord. The next item you sign will be the dissolution of the marriage and then it will be as if none of this ever happened.” Robach gave a benign smile.
Vaughn shook his head. As if that could be true. The marriage would be over, yes, and he would be free to move on and rebuild the life that had been frozen for so long. But as if it had never happened? There were some things that couldn’t be erased.
“How I wish that could be,” he muttered.
“Scandal passes, my lord,” Robach reassured him absently. “And you’ll certainly find a new wife.”
Vaughn blinked, for that concept hadn’t entered his mind. What did, in that moment, was an image of Evie sitting at his breakfast table as she had been that morning. Evie in his bed. Evie in his garden.
“I suppose I will so that I may fulfill my duties,” he agreed because he certainly wasn’t about to debate the merits of the idea with this man. “So a couple of weeks then?”
The solicitor nodded. “Yes, sir. All the permissions will be complete by then and you’ll sign the final dissolution and that will be that.”
“Very good.” Vaughn got up and smoothed his jacket, like he could wipe away some of the remnants of this unpleasantness. “Please send word if you require anything further until then. Good day.”
“Good day, my lord. My man will see you out.”
Vaughn inclined his head and then strode from the office back into the main hall. Robach’s man was, indeed, waiting for him. He was a thin, nervous sort and he bowed solicitously. “My lord. Would you like to wait in the parlor while I have your horse brought?”
The stifling weight of the day was starting to settle on Vaughn’s shoulders and he shook his head. “No, thank you. I think I’ll wait outside and have some air.”
“Very good. It shouldn’t be more than a moment. Good day.”
Vaughn lifted a hand in farewell as he exited the small building and drew a breath of air. All he wanted was to go home, shake off this day and spend his evening with Evie. Such a strange thought considering their beginnings, but there it was. He knew that when he was with her, she would make all this…lighter somehow. Easier. He could only hope he did the same for her.
“Blackburn.”
He stiffened at his name being said. Slowly, he turned and found Florence’s sister, Honora, coming toward him from down the street. She had a maid with her, and both women looked as uncomfortable as he felt.
“Lady Simpson,” he said, forgoing the intimacy of using her given name and referring to her by her title, instead. After all, they would be strangers in two weeks.
She let out her breath a little. “Good afternoon, Blackburn.”
“Is it,” he said, and looked off to see if his horse would be here soon to give him an escape.
She shifted. “She…she wants to see you.”
