Lyra composed herself enough to look Mara in the face, but her dark eyes were shimmering. “I know it’s so selfish of me to ask it of you when you’ve already settled in here—”
“Don’t be silly.” Mara enveloped the countess in a comforting embrace. “I would be honored to be your guest.”
The emotional dam finally cracked, and Lyra burst into tears. “I hate that I’m so weak to put you in this position, for there is a good chance that Mother…”
“Lady Eversleigh will find me no matter where I am,” Mara stated firmly. “I still have a shop to run, remember? Besides, I can’t hide forever.”
Lyra gave a shuddering sigh. “It’s all just so unfair. I always wanted you for a sister-in-law.” She gave a watery smile. “I still do.”
Mara merely swallowed over the tight lump in her throat before giving Lyra’s hand one final squeeze. “I’ll go pack my things.”
* * *
“I’m surprised you aren’t at your club at this hour. Your father was seldom home when we came to London, even for dinner.”
Roarke had listened to his mother prattle on about his failings as a son and sole heir for years—and for about as long as he was going to this evening. Since the moment Lavinia Garrott, Lady Eversleigh, had walked in the front door—whereas Lyra had been conspicuously absent—he had dealt with her incessant nagging. She had barely taken a breath, so naturally, he hadn’t found a chance to bring up the subject of Mara. In truth, he wasn’t even sure how. By the way, Mother, when you cease your current nattering, perhaps you might tell me if you knew the woman I’d intended to marry all those years ago was alive?
He would surely be beaten all hollow to even utter such a statement.
“Eversleigh, are you even listening to me?”
Roarke knew that his title shouldn’t grate on his nerves. After all, it was his due and his birthright to be known as Viscount Eversleigh, but just hearing his mother say it was enough to make him push back his chair and toss down his napkin. “I’m sorry, Mother, but I fear I’m a bit distracted this evening. If you’ll excuse me?”
“Well,” Lavinia huffed. “What an ungracious welcome after I’ve been gone for weeks doting on your sister, Margaret, who, by chance, is the only one of my offspring to have done their duty properly and produce an heir.” His mother lifted a censorious brow. “And since my presence is so unwanted, I think I shall accept my good friend, Lady Einbridge’s invitation to attend her book club meeting.” Lady Eversleigh stood as regally as any queen before she swept out of the room.
Roarke scrubbed a hand over his face before he clenched his jaw and headed for his study. Unfortunately, the butler intercepted him before he could cloister himself away. “Excuse me, my lord, but I have a message for you from Lady Weston.”
“Thank you, Winston.”
As the servant bowed and retreated from the room, Roarke tore open the missive.
I apologize for leaving so suddenly upon Mother’s arrival. I fear I wasn’t prepared for an inquisition. I wanted to let you know that my ladies’ maid will be by later to pack up my things. It’s time I returned to Weston House and whatever ghosts await me there, but rest assured, I will not be alone. Mara has graciously accepted my invitation to join me.
—Lyra
P.S. She also asked me to pass on the following information for Mr. Andrews.
As if on cue, a paper noting passage to France on board the vesselBeaumontfluttered down onto Roarke’s desk. With a frown, he picked it up and considered the significance of the receipt he held. It could very well be crucial evidence regarding Bentley’s whereabouts. He wondered where Mara might have come across such substantial facts, but the ramifications of why she didn’t wish to deliver it in person were more disturbing than anything else.
She didn’t want to see him.
As ifanywoman ever truly knew their own mind about what they wanted.
Granted, his mother’s arrival likely had a lot to do with Mara’s reluctance to return to Eversleigh House, for Lavinia and Mara never did get on very well. But surely, after seven years they could let bygones be bygones.
Unfortunately, Roarke realized that it was probably more complicated than that.
Tapping the missive in his palm, he now knew that he’d been a fool to let Mara leave. He regretted the way they’d parted, and he couldn’t, in all good conscience, just leave it at that. And if he was perfectly honest with himself, these past few days without her had been a torment. While most men of his acquaintance spurned love or the parson’s noose, Roarke was certain they’d never met a woman like Mara Miller.
Naturally, society expected someone in his position to wed for money or social standing, as his parents had, but Roarke had always thought such unions were ridiculous. Why spend the rest of your life with someone you could barely even tolerate, just for the sake of someone else’s approval?
It was just another reason Roarke had spent so much time in India, to escape the strictures placed upon him and his title. Adding to his growing fortune in trade with the East India Company, Roarke had felt so much more freedom away from British soil, even though he was working directly for theRaj. He’d gained a lot of knowledge from the locals in the aspect of culture, religion, language, and of course, he returned well-versed in the art of the infamousKama Sutra.
So what was he waiting for?
Grabbing his coat, he realized it was time to take the initiative. If she wouldn’t come to him, he would just have to go to her.
