A pink flush raced up her cheeks. “I’ll see what I can do,” she whispered and then spun on heels and headed off down the hallway.
* * *
Evie didn’t goto reassure the other guests as Lady Hepworth bid her. Instead, she asked a maid where her aunt could be found. It seemed that after the incident in the ballroom, the guests had retired to their rooms early.
Outside her aunt’s guest room, Evie drew in a deep breath full of resolve and determination. She had questions for Aunt Lydia, and it was long past time she got answers. She was ready for the whole story of her parentage, no matter how sordid or embarrassing.
As soon as she tapped on the door, a maid pulled the door open.
“I wish to see my aunt. Lady Worthington.”
“Of course, miss.” The maid stood back and allowed Evie to enter. “I’ve just delivered tea for her ladyship. Is there anything I may bring you, Miss Granger?”
“No, thank you.” Evie glanced toward her aunt’s sitting room. “Is she well?”
“Oh, right as rain, miss.” The young woman looked down at the tea tray she’d delivered. “Chamomile tea to help her sleep.”
“Thank you, I’ll take a cup into her.”
“Very good, miss.” The Carthwaite bobbed a curtsy and then departed.
Evie poured a cup of tea for her aunt and herself, all the while mulling how she might broach the most delicate subject between them. Before she could add a bit of cream to her aunt’s cup, as she preferred, the tap of her cane against the polished wood floor signaled her approach.
“I thought you might come to find me.” Aunt Lydia assessed her with a knowing glint in her eyes. “Let’s take our tea by the fireplace and talk.”
Once they were settled in front of the flickering fire, Evie sipped her tea, unsure of how to start.
“I suppose you’re curious what I told Rothwell.”
“Nothing, judging by his reaction.”
Aunt Lydia turned her mouth down in a displeased expression. “I did not divulge family secrets, no, but I did advise him to look elsewhere for a bride.” She leaned forward as if she might reach out.
Evie edged back in her chair. “He wants to marry me.”
He hadn’t said of much. He hadn’t had a chance to, but Evie knew it’s what he’d meant to say in the conservatory. They hadn’t confessed their feelings in words, but every touch, every look, every kiss told Evie what he felt for her. And being the man that he was, he would wish to do his duty.
Wonderful, impossible, honorable man.
“Yes, I believe he intended to offer for you.” Aunt Lydia’s voice had gone quiet and sad. “You do understand why I had to persuade him, my dear. Don’t you?”
“I do, but I want the whole story. Every bit of it. No obfuscation this time.”
Aunt Lydia frowned, sat her teacup down, and stared into the fire. “I’ve told you the story, my girl.”
“Tell me again and leave nothing out.”
Aunt Lydia remained quiet so long that Evie began to doubt she’d say anything more. But finally, she turned to Evie with unshed tears in her eyes.
“My sister, your mother, was a good and lovely woman. She was intelligent, accomplished, and loyal to those she loved.” She lifted a handkerchief from the pocket of her skirt and dabbed at her eyes. “I never want you to think ill of her.”
“I don’t. I wish I could have known her.”
At that, a tear did slip from her aunt’s eye. “I do too, dear Evangeline.”
“She did love her husband, but he wasn’t an easy man. He could turn cold, oblivious to the needs or feelings of others. And your mother had married him out of duty rather than love.”
Evie swallowed hard. This part she didn’t know. Therehadalways been more that her aunt had shielded her from.
