Page 26

“ Y ou’re brooding,” Julian observed, appearing at Nathaniel’s elbow with two fresh glasses of champagne. “More than usual, I mean.”

Nathaniel accepted the glass and held it in his hand. His attention remained fixed on Evelyn, who was now speaking with the Hazeltine brothers near the far wall. Both gentlemen seemed utterly enchanted by whatever she was saying.

“I told her about Halston,” he said finally.

“Ah.” Julian followed his gaze. “And how did that go?”

“Poorly.” Nathaniel’s jaw tightened as Lord Hazeltine—the elder one—leaned closer to Evelyn, clearly hanging on her every word. “I may have… misspoken.”

“Misspoken how?”

“I implied that Halston’s interest in her was purely vindictive. That he couldn’t possibly have been genuinely attracted to her. That he wanted her only because of his old rivalry with me.”

Julian let out a low whistle. “Gadzooks, Nathaniel. Even for you, that was spectacularly ill-advised.”

“I didn’t mean it that way.”

“I am certain you did not, but if she understood in that way, then I dare say you are in a bad position now, my friend,” Julian replied.

Nathaniel finally tore his gaze away from Evelyn to look at his friend. “I know it. I only meant that Halston was a bastard who would use anyone to get to me. I meant that she deserves better than to be someone’s pawn.”

“And what you said instead was that she’s unworthy of genuine affection.”

“Apparently.”

“And pray, what happened since? I understand she moved into the dower house for the time being. Your idea?”

He shifted from one foot to the other.

“Yes. It appeared the right thing to quell the rumors, but I fear she has taken it as my pushing her away.”

“I can see why. It seems you are complicating things needlessly, old chum.”

“How?” Nathaniel asked, though he had a feeling he knew the answer.

Julian shook his head. “You already know. And you do realize the solution to this is absurdly simple?”

“Is it?”

“Tell her you love her. Marry her. Stop torturing both of yourselves.”

Nathaniel’s laugh was bitter. “She doesn’t want me, Julian. She’s made that perfectly clear. She wanted the dower house—now she has it. She wanted freedom—she will have that in due course as well. What she doesn’t want is me.”

“Are you blind? The woman moved into the dower house rather than leave your property entirely. She looks at you as though you were a delightful plum cake.”

“She’s here because she needs a husband to protect her fortune. That is also why she is near me, because I can protect her for the time being.”

“You are a fool, my friend.”

Before Nathaniel could respond, he noticed Lord Hazeltine offering Evelyn his arm. She accepted with a smile. They moved toward the dance floor.

Something dark and possessive clawed at his chest as he watched the man lead her into position for the waltz. The man’s hand settled at her waist with what Nathaniel considered excessive familiarity. Evelyn laughed at something Hazeltine said, her face tilting up toward his.

Nathaniel’s grip tightened on his champagne glass.

“If you shatter that, you’ll have glass in your palm,” Julian observed mildly.

“He’s holding her too close.”

“He’s dancing with her. That’s rather the point.”

“His hand?—”

“It is exactly where it should be. Nathaniel, if you don’t do something soon, she will find a husband tonight. Look around you—half the eligible bachelors in London are here, and they’re all watching her.”

It was true. Even as Hazelton spun her through the steps of the waltz, Nathaniel could see other gentlemen positioned around the dance floor, waiting their turn. Lord Ashworth. Mr. Thornfield. Even young Viscount Carey, who was barely out of university. They were here because he had invited them.

The waltz ended. Hazelton bowed over Evelyn’s hand, holding it longer than necessary. She curtsied, still smiling, as he escorted her from the floor.

Directly toward Lord Ashworth.

Nathaniel turned sharply and caught the attention of a passing footman. “Thomas.”

“Yes, Your Grace?”

“Find the Dowager Duchess. Tell her I require a moment of her time. In my study.”

“Your Grace.” Thomas bowed and hurried away.

Nathaniel did not wait to see if his message would be delivered. He left Julian where he stood and strode from the ballroom.

He paced to the fireplace, then back to his desk, then to the window that overlooked the gardens.

The library door opened behind him.

“You summoned me like a servant,” Evelyn said, her voice sharp with irritation. “How charming.”

He turned. She stood in the doorway, still flushed from dancing, her hair slightly mussed.

“Close the door,” he said.

She raised an eyebrow but complied. “I assume this is about my dance partners? Are you planning to warn me away from them as well? Or perhaps Lord Ashworth? I do hope you have prepared a comprehensive list of every gentleman in London who apparently finds me tolerable only out of spite toward you.”

“That’s not—I didn’t mean?—”

“What exactly did you mean, Nathaniel?” She moved closer, her eyes blazing. “When you told me that Lord Halston could not possibly have been interested in me for my own sake? When you made it clear that the idea of a man finding me genuinely attractive was laughable?”

“I was trying to protect you. And I said none of those things.” Why did she insist on twisting his words?

“Your meaning was clear. As for your desire to protect me. From what? From the possibility that someone might actually want me?”

“From Halston specifically. He’s a?—”

“Yes, you have made your opinion of Lord Halston quite clear. And I have already told him I would not see him again. I shall grant you that he did strike me as a rather unpleasant fellow.”

Nathaniel raked a hand through his hair. “Good, I am glad. He was no good for you.”

“Or perhaps you did not want me near him because you dislike him so much. You do rather put your desires first.”

“I most certainly do not, and you know that. There is no need to be spiteful.”

“I am not spiteful. I tell the truth. You have been desperate to be rid of me. You even sent me out of the house into the dower house. Pray, why do you want me out of your house so badly?”

The question caught him off guard. “What? You wanted the dower house! You schemed to have Lady Appleton abandon it for the time being.”

“You fought me for the dower house, then suddenly insisted I move there. You’ve avoided me for days now, communicating only through notes like I’m some distant acquaintance.

You are hosting a ball specifically to find me a husband, so I’ll leave.

If it’s not because you find me entirely resistible, then what is it? ”

“You wanted the dower house—” he repeated, aware it came out feeble.

“That’s not an answer. Why have you been so distant? Why won’t you even look at me properly anymore?”

“I am looking at you.”

“You know what I mean.”

He did know. And he could not explain it without revealing everything he’d been trying so hard to hide. The way she affected him. The way she’d begun to matter far more than was safe or smart or convenient. The way he could not make up his mind about whether she was using him or not.

“This isn’t… We shouldn’t be?—”

“What? Speaking honestly? Heaven forbid.”

The argument was escalating, and they were moving closer without realizing it. Her color was high, her breathing rapid. She was magnificent when she was angry.

“You want honesty?” he said. “Fine. You’re impossible, Evelyn. Absolutely impossible.”

“And you’re a coward.”

The words hit him like a physical blow. “What did you say?”

“You heard me. You’re a coward, Nathaniel Sinclair. You hide behind duty and propriety and your precious reputation because you’re too frightened to?—”

“To what?”

“To admit that ….” She stopped, as if uncertain what she had planned to say.

They were standing very close now. Close enough that he could see the rapid flutter of her pulse at her throat.

His gaze dropped to her mouth.

Her breath caught.

The space between them seemed to crackle with energy.

Heat radiated from her skin, and her lips parted slightly.

He wanted to kiss her. The desire was so strong, his hand rose without his being able to stop it, resting against the side of her head.

His thumb stroked her cheek, and his lips parted as her eyelids flickered.

He was leaning toward her, drawn by a force stronger than reason, when the library door burst open.

“Oh!” Lady Charmaine Avery stood frozen in the doorway. “Oh my. I was looking for—that is, I thought this was?—”

Nathaniel stepped back from Evelyn quickly, but the damage was done. They were both flushed, both breathing hard. To anyone looking, they’d been caught in a compromising position.

Which, he supposed, they had been.

“Lady Charmaine,” he said, forcing his voice to remain level.

Not her of all people.

Her gaze darted between them, taking in every detail.

A slow, predatory smile spread across Charmaine’s face.

“How… interesting,” she said. “Here, I thought this ball was to find dear Evelyn a husband. But it seems she may have already found one.”

“Lady Charmaine,” Evelyn began, but the other woman held up a hand.

“Oh, don’t mind me. I was simply looking for the ladies’ retiring room. Though I do hope you’ll both rejoin the festivities soon. I’m sure everyone will be terribly curious about where you have disappeared to.”

With that, she swept from the room, leaving the door wide open behind her.

“What was that about?” Evelyn demanded, turning to face him.

Nathaniel felt something cold settle in his stomach. “I’ve ruined everything,” he said quietly. “I ruin everything.”

“Nathaniel—”

“I’ll fix this,” he said, already moving toward the door. “I’ll speak to her. I will?—”

But even as he said it, he knew it was too late.

By the time Nathaniel reached the ballroom, the whispers had already begun.

Lady Charmaine stood near the refreshment table, surrounded by a group of matrons whose faces bore identical expressions of scandalous delight. She was speaking in low, urgent tones, her hands gesturing dramatically.

Several gentlemen had already made their excuses and were calling for their carriages. Lord Ashworth looked particularly irritated as he collected his hat from a footman.

“False pretenses,” Nathaniel heard him mutter to his companion. “Lured here under false pretenses.”

Julian appeared at his elbow. “What did you do?”

“Nothing. Everything.” Nathaniel watched helplessly as more guests began to drift toward the exits. “Charmaine found us in the library.”

“Found you doing what?”

“Nothing. But it looked like… more than it was. We quarreled and I…”

Julian swore under his breath. “How much more?”

“Enough. Why did your cousin have to find us?”

“I dare say, if it were Charmaine, you don’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of getting out of this.”

The whispers were growing louder now. Nathaniel caught fragments of conversation as he passed through the room.

“…alone in his library…”

“…quite compromised…”

“…no choice but to marry now…”

The damage was beyond control. By morning, it would be all over London.

There was only one way to salvage anything—his reputation, her name, both their futures.

He would have to marry her.

The irony wasn’t lost on him. He’d spent months trying to find her a husband, and now he would have to become one himself.

He found her in the gardens, standing beneath one of the lamplit arbors. She didn’t look surprised when he approached.

“You’re going to propose,” she said flatly.

“Not quite,” he replied. “I’m going to insist.”

Evelyn crossed her arms. “How romantic.”

“It’s not meant to be romantic,” he snapped. “It’s meant to be practical. You will have what you wanted. Control over your future, your funds. Freedom from your father. You can even keep the dower house.”

“How generous,” she scoffed, then looked at him. “And what if I refuse?”

The question caught him off guard. He’d been so focused on the necessity of the situation that he hadn’t considered that she might actually resist.

“You can’t refuse.”

“Can’t I?” Her voice was quiet.

“Your reputation will be in ruins.”

“My reputation has survived worse than Lady Charmaine’s gossip.”

“This is different, and you know it. By morning, all of London will believe we were… intimate. Your sisters will be tainted by association. Your aunt?—”

“Don’t.” The word cracked like a whip. “Don’t you dare use my family against me.”

“This is the only way,” he pressed. “For both of us.”

“The only way to what? To trap us both in a marriage neither of us wants?” She laughed, but there was no humor in it. “You’ve made your feelings about me abundantly clear, Nathaniel. You think I’m impossible. Unremarkable. Someone no man could want except out of spite.”

“I never said?—”

“You didn’t have to. Every action, every word, every cold shoulder for the last few days has made your opinion perfectly clear.” She stepped closer, her eyes blazing. “So forgive me if I’m not eager to shackle myself to a man who views marriage to me as a punishment.”

“It’s not a punishment.”

“Isn’t it? You just called it practical. Everything except what a marriage should be.”

He felt something crack inside his chest. “What did you expect me to say?”

“Nothing,” she said quietly. “I expected nothing from you, and you’ve delivered exactly that.”

The words hit him like a physical blow. Before he could respond, she walked away.

“Evelyn, wait?—”

She didn’t stop.

“This conversation isn’t over,” he called after her.

“Yes,” she said without turning around, “it is.”

He watched her disappear into the darkness beyond the garden lights, heading toward the dower house. The distant sounds of the ball—what remained of it—drifted from the main house. But all he could hear was the echo of her words.

“I expected nothing from you, and you have delivered exactly that.”

The lie tasted bitter on his tongue. Because the truth—that marrying her would change everything, that it terrified and thrilled him in equal measure—was too dangerous to admit.

Even to himself.