“Quite right. Ladies of her station cannot afford to beromantic. As for myself, I have always found that people who insist on love in marriage are really insisting on something else entirely. Passion, excitement, alleviation of boredom. In short, a misguided notion of what love is.” He shrugged. “It fades.”
Evie was momentarily speechless. “Alleviation of boredom,” she said after she found her voice again. “Is this truly what you believe love to be? Surely you cannot mean this?”
His smile did not reach his eyes. “I mean every word, Miss Honeywell.”
The wave of disappointment that rolled over her took her breath away. She had not expected that. She had not expected to be disappointed at all.
“I see,” she said quietly.
There was a beat of silence.
He was a hardened cynic. Being married to someone like that would make her bitterly unhappy. She knew it for a fact. And now, at last, she had her reason.
She would break off the engagement. There was nothing standing in her way.
Nothing whatsoever.
She was almost certain of it.
Clara gradually recoveredfrom her illness. Two weeks later, she was pale and weak but free of spots and fever. The doctor declared her well enough to travel, though he strongly recommended another fortnight of rest and recovery.
Evie was quite eager to return to London. She had started to feel increasingly uncomfortable in Hartenberg’s presence. She frequently found his eyes on her, intense and thoughtful, as if he were ruminating on her and could not entirely untangle her. She found that unnerving, but sheheld his gaze steadily and refused to cower under it. A softness flitted over his edgy features, or maybe she imagined that; maybe it was but a shadow she had mistaken for emotion.
She scoffed. Emotion! Why on earth would Hartenberg feel any emotion at all when looking at her, other than irritability or annoyance. He was a bitter cynic when it came to love, which he had dismissed as a pastime ladies indulged in to distract themselves from boredom. It was really the most derisive thing she had ever heard anyone say. For a brief moment, she wondered what had happened to him to make him like that. Maybe he had been crossed in love, once. Though truth be told, she could not imagine that man ever being passionately in love. He was far too cold and sardonic for it.
How very disenchanting it all was.
Her initial impression of him had changed little over the past ten days. The man was hard and overly logical, bereft of any apparent ability to feel, let alone express, anything at all.
He insisted on accompanying them back to Vienna. Which was correct of him, if one thought about it, and the gentlemanly thing to do; however, Evie objected, quite strenuously, arguing that two women who had managed to travel thus far could surely manage to return on their own as well. The reason, of course, was that if Hartenberg came with them, she would be unable to uphold her false identity as soon as they arrived at her brother’s townhouse in Vienna. And she was not ready for that, yet.
He listened in silence, with a raised eyebrow, then replied, pleasantly, as though she had not spoken at all, that they would set out on the morrow as soon as they had broken their fast. Together.
Evie scowled. Then her brow cleared and she nodded. “Very well, then, if you insist.”
That afternoon, as soon as Hartenberg was called away on estate business, she calmly directed the butler to have their carriage readied.
She left a polite note for him on the side table in the drawing room, thanking him most profusely for his hospitality and for having saved her life, but explaining that, alas, urgent matters required them to leave immediately for Vienna.
Instead of stopping at the inn where they had halted previously, they pulled up at another inn somewhat farther along the road. Thankfully, the soldiers had moved on and there were rooms to be had; and since Clara was pale and exhausted, they stayed the night. Hartenberg was no fool. The first inn would surely be the place he looked, and she hoped he would waste a good hour there at least, before concluding they had pushed on without stopping.
She was right on both counts, as it turned out, though she did not know it yet.
After a short rest the following morning, they continued on to Vienna.
When their carriage finally pulled up in front of her brother’s grand palais on the Graben, Evie was happy to be home.
Chapter Fourteen
Georg was in a foul mood.
The next time he put his eyes on Lady Evangeline Stafford-Hill, he would surely throttle her. He had never met a woman who was as infuriatingly obstinate, charmingly duplicitous, courageously enterprising and strategically scheming as Lady Evie.
It had been clear to him that she had not wanted him to accompany them to Vienna. In all likelihood that was because arriving together would unmask her immediately, and she would be unable to maintain her false identity.
Fair enough.
He’d expected her to argue, but she had not.
