Page 14 of The Spinster's Seduction(The Lover's Arch #4)

Acarriage was waiting for them when they arrived at the tiny village of Havercroft. The station was nothing more than a single platform, a Ticketmaster dozing in his tiny hut. Thankfully, two footmen stood to attention, waiting for them. Evelyn allowed them to assist her father from the train into the carriage.

She remained silent as they rumbled along the country lanes to her best friend’s estate. Her father, exhausted even from this small journey, dozed. It was better that way. The last thing she wanted was to make conversation when her heart was in such a state.

Her nerves frayed as they came in sight of the house. Snow drifted from the heavy sky like petals.

She could not endure remaining in the house as he married Lady Rosamund. But how to leave? Perhaps she could claim sickness?

No, that would worry her father.

She would have to speak with the duchess, explain her unrequited love and why she could not be around Charles and his future bride. Then she would need to give both Charles and herself some space—a chance for her to recover from her ill-fated affection.

As they approached the door, the man himself emerged. Her heart flipped. Tall, thin, his face worn, he no longer resembled a dashing young suitor but a man she wished she had already spent her years with .

The last time she had seen him, he’d had his hands all over her. He’d watched her with hunger in his eyes, and he had kissed her as though he never wanted to stop again.

“Walter,” he said, holding out his hand for her father to step from the carriage. The footmen descended, blowing on their hands, and retrieved the luggage. “I’m delighted you came. How was your journey? But I can see from your expression that it was wearisome. Come, come, let me get you in the warmth. And Evie.” He turned to her, awareness lighting his gaze, and she felt that she must be blushing like a fool, like a debutante in her first Season. “You came,” he murmured. “I was not sure you would.”

She took his hand, allowing his fingers to curl around hers. This would be their final stand, the last time she came to this charming mansion, with its worn brick and uneven windows. “You know you left me with little choice.”

“And for that I apologise.” His eyes searched hers. “I’ve made mistakes, but I hope you can come to forgive me for them in time.” He squeezed her hand before releasing her, his voice low as his butler carefully escorted her father into the building. “I’m glad you came. I have something to say to you. Wait for me in the hall? I won’t be long.”

“Charles, I—” Searching for an excuse not to be alone with him, she glanced at the window. “It’s snowing.”

His eyes crinkled as he smiled. “That hasn’t stopped you before.”

The arch. That walk when he had kissed her for the first time. Her stomach turned over, hard.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” she whispered.

His expression changed infinitesimally. “Please, Pidge. It’s important. Wait for me.”

She had waited for so many years.

But perhaps this was for the best. If they had a chance to speak alone, she could tell him that they should keep their distance once he was engaged, and they would have all the unpleasantness over with before she even met with his mother.

“Very well,” she said. “I’ll wait here. Don’t be long. ”

“Thank you.” He brought her hand to his lips briefly, the kiss travelling down her arm to pierce her heart, and turned to her father. “Come, sir. Let me show you to your room.” He took the older man’s elbow with such a light touch that her father would not feel his dignity had been much compromised.

Evelyn watched the way Charles guided her father up the stairs, head bent as they conversed in low tones. Of course she had always loved him—he had never given her a choice. He cared for the person she loved most in the world as though he were his own father. What else was she to do?

Charles did not take long, and a smile of relief crossed his face when he found her still standing in the entryway, waiting for him. A footman had brought her a glass of lemonade, and she sipped at it, trying to control the dread that moved through her body at the thought, not only of having to hear whatever Charles had to say to her, but then to present herself to his future wife.

This was a mistake. She should never have come.

“What is that face for?” he asked when he came to tuck her hand in his arm.

“You should never have invited me here,” she said. “Charles, I—”

“I know. But give me a chance to redeem myself. I will, I swear it.” He led her to the door. “Outside, you see, we can have no chance of being overheard. We will be totally alone.”

“You make that sound as though that’s preferable.”

“For this, it is.” He looked at her with patient compassion in his eyes. “I know I’ve made mistakes, my darling. Will you come with me? I’ll explain everything. ”

Reluctantly, she allowed him to tuck her hand firmly against his side and lead her outside. A soft layer of snow covered the gravel, muffling their footsteps. The world was a different place in winter, the lines harsh and crisp. The chill in the air made her lungs burn.

“Remember when we used to have snowball fights?” he asked as he led her through an ice-crusted gate to a lavender garden, although the small shrubby plants were clipped back and draped with snow. More flakes drifted from the sky above, melting on her lips, catching on her eyelashes.

“I remember,” she said.

“Does it ever strike you as a shame that we are so much older now?” He blew out a long breath. “Sometimes I wish I could go back and shake my younger self.”

“Was he so bad?”

He directed a wry look at her. “He was a cad and a rake.”

“Traits you claim to have not outgrown,” she pointed out.

“I believe I may finally have done.” He snapped off a twig and crouched, scrawling her name in the snow. The dark paving slab gleamed wetly underneath. “My father said a man eventually comes to a crossroads and he must choose his path.” From where he still crouched, he looked up at her. “I have made my choice, Evelyn.”

Her chest pinched. She pressed her hands under her elbows, suddenly relieved they were alone in a walled garden, hidden from the house. “What are you saying?”

“Lady Rosamund and her mother are not here. In fact, there are only a handful of guests.”

“I—”

“You once told me that you would not have me, even if I asked. Does that still hold true?”

She felt as though he had punched her in the stomach. She had no breath left. Her fingers clenched compulsively. “To marry?”

“Well, I don’t see what else we would do,” he retorted. “You may think you don’t want to marry me, but I insist on it.”

“Against my will? ”

“Would you truly choose to turn me down?” He unfolded her hands, taking them in both of his and breathing on them. “Perhaps I will not be an easy husband, but I can promise one thing.” He sank to one knee, even in the snow. “Before you and you alone, I will kneel and offer you all that I am. My heart is yours, Pigeon. It always has been. So marry me. Humble me. Remind me what a lucky fool I have been to be privileged with your friendship. Allow me a chance to be better. I’m ill-practised at it, I’ll confess, but I love you as I never thought it possible for a man to love a woman. Marry me, Evie. Let me live out the rest of my days with you.”

Her breath caught in her lungs. Disbelief warred with hope, and her hand trembled in his. “I thought you were going to propose to Lady Rosamund. You—”

“I am a fool,” he said bluntly. “But about this, at least, I’m certain. I have ended the understanding between Lady Rosamund and myself. There is only one woman I ever intend to propose to, and she has yet to return an answer.”

“I—” She felt as though she must be dreaming. “What if I may never have children?”

“Then so be it.”

“How can you say that?” she demanded, half laughing, half crying. “When you have to marry for an heir.”

“I have siblings galore. There is someone to inherit the dukedom when I pass it on. I would rather a life with the woman I love than an empty life with someone I care nothing for.” He linked his fingers through hers. “Marry me, Evelyn Davenport. Marry me. Love me, if you can, but at least marry me.”

“Charles.” Her nose stung, and cold air slicked down her neck. All her senses told her this was real, but she found herself doubting every single one. Charles, Marquess of Rotherham, future Duke of Norfolk, wanted to marry her. Her . Evelyn Davenport, heir to nothing and no one, a lady whose hair was silver and whose prospects were limited. A lady whose friends she could count on one hand—who preferred reading by the fire to ballrooms .

“Evelyn,” he returned, eyes dancing now. “Evelyn, my sweet and lovely, tell me you will marry me. If you refuse me for a third time, my heart will never recover.”

“I only refused you the once,” she protested. “And you were drunk.”

“I distinctly remember you telling me under no circumstances to offer for you—after I had insisted that I marry you in exchange for your ruination.” He put a hand on his heart. “Instead, you ruined me.”

“Be serious.”

“I am. Now put me out of my misery and tell me you will marry me. My knees are getting cold.”

She tugged at his hand. He rose readily, head bent down to hers, and she curled her hands around his neck. “If you want me—if you truly want me—then of course I’ll marry you.”

He kissed her properly then, his mouth opening hers, his tongue hot against her own. She clung to him in case joy made her float away. The ache in her chest, the pain she had carried since news of his marriage and the knowledge that her love for him was terminal, dissolved into something that felt terrifyingly like happiness.

His mouth moved to her cheeks. “I love you,” he said, kissing away her tears, a smile in his voice. “So stop crying.”

“I don’t know why I am,” she said, mystified. “I’m happy.”

“Good. But you really must stop crying, my darling, or everyone will think I forced you into it.”

She jerked back, staring up at him. “Oh heavens. Who is everyone?”

“Oh, just a few souls. And, of course, Reverend Walters.”

“ What? ”

He grinned wickedly. “I have a marriage license in my pocket. I’ve waited twenty years for you, Pidge. I’m in no mind to wait any longer.”