Page 4 of The Taming of the Countess

CHAPTER FOUR

Summer, 1846

J ames stared outside the window at the London streets, feeling like a stranger in his own homeland. It was strange to see the fog slipping around the townhouses and even stranger to feel the cool weather. He’d grown accustomed to the blazing sun of India.

It seemed nearly impossible to slip back into the privileged life he’d known before. He’d glimpsed a part of the world he’d never imagined. He’d witnessed unspeakable poverty…and the greed of shipping companies who had built their fortunes upon the backs of those who could not defend themselves.

Never again would he invest his family’s fortunes in such a way.

He’d once believed that India would change him, giving him a taste of adventure in a new land. He and Matthew had travelled for months, half a world away, with a footman who was half-Indian and spoke the language. But Javas had betrayed them.

A knot tightened in James’s stomach. He’d believed Javas when the man had claimed that a sailor had spoken of rubies in the north. The footman had suggested that they travel there and invest in mining.

Instead, they’d been caught up in a military conflict between the Sikh and the British.

Only now did he understand that Javas had deliberately separated them from the others. Their wealth had made them a target, and the man had robbed and abandoned them to a group of rebels. He and Matthew had been captured and imprisoned for months before they’d barely escaped with their lives.

And although they’d made it home again, he wasn’t the same person any more. Not only from the wounds he’d received in prison, but also from the crushing guilt of his own failures. Matthew had suffered so badly, the man could barely even speak. James blamed himself for everything that had happened. But most of all, he shouldered the blame for what had happened to his family while he’d been away.

His father had died over a year ago. Never again would he see George’s face or the hint of pride in the man’s smile. Although James had once dreaded the endless hours of learning estate matters, now the ledgers filled up the emptiness left behind by his father’s legacy. Seeing George’s handwriting left a bittersweet ache of grief within him.

God above, he wished he’d never left. Even though George had insisted that he go, James knew he shouldn’t have listened. His sisters and mother had needed him, and he hadn’t been there for them.

Footsteps approached, and out of instinct, James reached for a weapon that wasn’t there. It took a moment to calm his heartbeat, and then he realised it was his sister Lily approaching.

You’re safe , he told himself. It’s nothing.

He took a slow, deep breath and tried to behave as if everything was normal.

‘James, I was hoping we could talk.’

He glanced back at the window, trying to steady his own frustration. He knew why his sister was here—but he struggled to keep his emotions under rein. She was gripping her hands together with nerves, but he already knew why.

Yesterday, their mother had dressed in her favourite ball gown, rhapsodising about how romantic it was that Lily would be married to Arnsbury, but thankfully there was no child.

‘You seem angry,’ she started to say. ‘Did—did Mother tell you—’

‘Tell me that Arnsbury ruined you before he left for India? She did.’ His words were brittle and sharp. Although he’d known that his sister had been in love with Matthew before they’d left England, he’d never imagined that his best friend would dishonour Lily in such a way. It felt like a betrayal he’d never imagined.

There were no words to describe the fury that permeated every part of him. It enraged him beyond rational thought.

You’re a hypocrite , his conscience warned. Because you did the same thing when you couldn’t resist Evangeline’s kiss.

His sister was staring back at him, her face scarlet with humiliation. Silence descended between them, but he couldn’t bring himself to fill the space with meaningless conversation. He wanted Lily to stay away from Matthew, for the earl could no longer be the man she wanted. Arnsbury had suffered in captivity, just as he had. They’d been questioned and tortured for information they didn’t have, and neither of them was fit for marriage. Not any more.

But James had silently vowed to himself that he would reveal nothing about India to his family. It was better to suppress the nightmares, and eventually they would disappear.

At last, Lily broke the silence between them. ‘Matthew didn’t ruin me, James. I married him in secret before he left. We spoke wedding vows to one another.’ She reached for the silver chain around her throat and revealed a gold signet ring.

Her words were an invisible blow. Not once, in two years, had Matthew mentioned this to him. It felt as if his friend had tricked his sister into believing it was real. And James felt compelled to point out, ‘The marriage wasn’t legal. Not without a licence or my permission.’

He turned and saw Lily’s stricken face. Her hands were clenched together, but she faced him with her chin raised. ‘Matthew nearly died in India. I’ve been waiting two years for my husband to return.’

‘Arnsbury was never your husband.’ And part of him was glad of it. Lily didn’t know, couldn’t know, how far his friend had descended into madness.

But Lily only raised her chin. ‘If our marriage was illegal, then I will simply marry him again.’

Of course, his sister was as stubborn as she’d always been. She wasn’t about to listen to reason. In her heart, she probably believed that Arnsbury was eager to reunite with her.

James tried to keep his voice gentle. ‘Matthew is not the same man you knew, Lily. His mind was…damaged after what we endured.’

The months in captivity had stolen pieces of their lives. Although their outer wounds had healed, the scars—both seen and unseen—remained. The man Lily had fallen in love with was gone, unfit to be anyone’s husband. And James knew he was the same. Duty be damned. He couldn’t imagine taking a wife now or siring an heir.

‘What did you endure?’ Lily asked. ‘You never said what happened in India.’

‘I won’t speak of it,’ he told her. ‘It’s better left in the past.’

There were some memories he refused to relive. It seemed like a lifetime ago since he’d departed. If he’d only known how much his life would change in two years, he’d have reconsidered his plans. Sometimes he longed to go back and tell his younger self not to be such an arrogant fool.

He only wished he could follow his own advice. He certainly didn’t want anyone to know that he’d suffered nearly as much as Matthew. His dream of seeing the world had become filled with nightmares, being caught in the midst of war. Even after he and Arnsbury had escaped, it had been another endless journey from India back to England while avoiding the battlegrounds.

Although they’d made it out alive, it still made little sense to him why he and Matthew had been captured in the first place. There was no ransom demand from the group of rebels—only endless questions about the British Army’s movements. Perhaps it truly had been a situation where they’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time, and the rebels had believed they were spies. He still didn’t know.

It didn’t matter now. He was home again, and he had to somehow pick up the shattered pieces of his family’s life and mend them—even though the nightmares haunted him still.

‘Are you all right, James?’ his sister asked.

No, he wasn’t. So many nights, he’d awakened with a gasp of fear, his body drenched in sweat, his heart racing. His obligation to marry and sire an heir seemed impossible. He was broken, just as Matthew was. And no wife deserved that.

With reluctance, he faced the grim truth of his own hypocrisy. He blamed Lily for succumbing to seduction, but the truth was, he’d nearly done the same to Evie.

God above, he’d tried to shut her out of his mind. Yet, for the past two years, those forbidden memories had haunted him. He remembered the sweetness of her innocent mouth and the way she’d tempted him to abandon his own honour. Never had he imagined that such a shy wallflower held such a passionate heart. He couldn’t deny that he wanted to see her again.

Was she still hiding in the shadows, or had she found someone else to love? Was she all right? But then, he didn’t deserve those answers.

‘I’m fine,’ he lied. It was better to wear the mask of normalcy, letting his family believe that he had escaped without any trouble. ‘But Arnsbury isn’t.’ He met his sister’s gaze and said, ‘Matthew will never be the same again, Lily. It would be best if you let him go.’

‘I can’t let him go, James. I love him, and I intend to stand by him.’ Her voice was calm and determined as her gaze narrowed upon him. ‘I also don’t believe you’re fine. Not if you endured the same captivity Matthew did.’

He shook his head in dismissal. ‘It doesn’t matter about me. I’m not the one who wants to be married.’

At that, her expression turned discerning. ‘Don’t you think it’s time you found a wife of your own? Rose will be married in a few weeks. And after you finally set your stubbornness aside, I’ll marry Matthew. Neither of us wants you to be alone.’

He hadn’t missed the way she’d tossed in her own rebellious intentions amid their sister’s betrothal. But he wasn’t about to rise to her bait.

‘I don’t need a wife, Lily.’ But he was happy that their sister Rose had fallen in love with an Irish earl. At least one of them had found happiness in the future that lay ahead.

She paused a moment. ‘What about Evangeline?’

He tried to behave as if he had little interest in her. ‘Surely she’s married by now, isn’t she?’

‘No. After you left, she wasn’t the same. She’s…very different now.’

He couldn’t stop himself from asking, ‘Different in what way?’

His sister’s cheeks reddened. ‘She is quite independent. And wealthy beyond anyone’s imagination.’

‘Then she likely has no shortage of suitors,’ he guessed.

Her expression turned pained. ‘I fear that Evangeline has gained a rather dreadful reputation. They call her a shrew. Rose and I have tried to help her, but she seems to be enjoying chasing the men away. I don’t understand it at all.’

His curiosity was piqued at the idea. The Evangeline he remembered was a lovely young woman with a large heart and a friendly warmth. He couldn’t imagine her becoming shrewish at all.

‘I think you ought to pay a call upon her again,’ Lily predicted. ‘She hasn’t seen you since you left.’

He did owe her an apology—there was no denying that. Although he wasn’t so certain it was a good idea to show up on her doorstep. Her overprotective father might greet him with a pistol in his hand.

‘When you do see her, at least consider her as a bride,’ Lily suggested. ‘I always thought the pair of you might suit.’

‘Are our finances that dire?’ he mused. ‘You’re suggesting that I wed Miss Sinclair for her dowry?’

‘They’re not dire, no. But you meant the world to Evie once.’ She paused a moment and added, ‘Honestly, I have no idea what Mother did with the estates while you were away.’

As if in response to her question, their mother wandered into the drawing room. She was wearing a black dress, a dark cloak, and her hands were tucked inside a fur muff.

‘Are you going somewhere, Mother?’ Lily asked.

‘I am going to Spain tomorrow,’ Iris answered. ‘Do be a darling and make sure my trunks are packed. My George will be meeting me there. He’s been gone for so long, you see.’

James met Lily’s gaze. It seemed that Matthew wasn’t the only one who had fallen into madness.

He’d known that their mother had grieved deeply for the loss of her husband. But he hadn’t realised how lost she was in a world of her own making. His own mood grew sombre, ‘Mother, Father is—’

‘—missing you very much,’ Lily finished. ‘As I know you miss him.’

She shot James a warning look not to reveal the truth of George’s death. He met her gaze, not understanding why she was shielding Iris from reality.

Tears gleamed in their mother’s eyes. ‘I want to see him again very soon.’

‘I know you do,’ Lily murmured. ‘Perhaps you could go and write him a letter?’

Iris brightened at that. ‘Oh, that is a wonderful idea. I shall go now.’

After she wandered out of the room, Lily turned to him. ‘Our mother has changed a great deal while you were gone. She is not herself any more.’

He’d gathered as much from her attire yesterday and the way Iris had been delighted about another impending wedding.

‘She believes Father is alive?’

Lily nodded. ‘Among other things. Some might call her mad, but I still love her. Just as I still love Matthew and want to be his wife.’ She reached for a chain around her neck and fingered it. ‘Dreams are worth holding on to, James. Even if they aren’t what they used to be.’

He wasn’t so certain he had any dreams left at all. More like nightmares that would never go away.

* * *

Evangeline stood outside her mother’s shop, staring at the glass front window. She was considering changing the display. Colourful bolts of silk and satin caught the morning sunlight, drawing the eye—but she was starting to wonder if there might be other ways to show off the fabric.

For most of her childhood, she’d been embarrassed by the idea of her family selling ladies’ undergarments, even if it was a lucrative venture. But whether she liked it or not, Aphrodite’s Unmentionables had become her legacy, and she intended to make the most of it. She’d discovered that she was quite good at making money.

During the past two years, she had begun helping with the business. There had been a time when they hadn’t owned a store at all—they had simply taken exclusive orders and had hired the best seamstresses for the designs. But now, there was value in having a place where customers could choose the fabrics, laces, and designs.

Evie’s latest venture was selling cotton drawers, pantalettes, and chemises that were ready to wear in several sizes. She had arranged for a dozen to be dyed in various colours, ranging from soft pink and lavender to a deep green. Some had embroidery, and others were slightly daring in the way they clung to a woman’s body.

After they had sold out everything within days, she realised there was a true opportunity to continue offering certain garments in common sizes. And of course, after being measured, the ladies could also order the unmentionables in any size, style, or colour.

Last summer, Evangeline had travelled with her father to Scotland and Ireland where they had expanded the manufacturing, selling their garments in Edinburgh and Dublin. There were no factories, but all the under-garments were sewn by hand, giving women an opportunity to earn their own money. They could work at home and were paid by the quality of their efforts.

Although her family was incredibly wealthy, Evie enjoyed the money for a different reason. There was something empowering about being able to change people’s lives for the better, whether it was paying bills anonymously, sending food to a needy family, or donating to orphanages. Her father was happy to fulfil her requests, for he had been raised in poverty himself. He knew what it was to be hungry, and unlike the rest of the London ton , he hadn’t sheltered her from that side of life. He’d taken her to the poor houses, showing her the people who needed help.

For that reason, she was glad to continue selling unmentionables. If it made her family a laughingstock, so be it. No one else needed to know the greater purpose—of helping the poor and downtrodden. She knew what the power of money meant, and that was enough.

Even so, Evie often felt the loneliness as she’d watched other young women her age marry and have children. She, herself, had given up on the idea, two years ago. No man deserved to win her heart, and she refused to ever consider falling in love again.

Evie fully intended to remain a spinster with her animals to keep her company. Her enormously fat dog, Anna-belle, and her cat, Dasher, gave her all the love and affection she needed. And neither of them would ever consider abandoning her. Now she only attended a few balls, mostly those hosted by family and friends, merely to be polite.

She lifted her chin and was about to enter the shop when a male voice said, ‘Miss Sinclair?’

When she turned to see who it was, a coldness encircled her heart. James Thornton, the new Earl of Penford was standing a short distance away. His brown hair had lightened from months in the sunlight, but his eyes were still that vivid shade of green. Only this time, they held bleak shadows instead of rakish mischief. No longer was he the carefree viscount who had left for India—instead, it seemed that Fate had punished him.

Which was just as he deserved, she supposed.

Evangeline was torn between wanting to ignore him and enter her shop—or telling him exactly what she thought of him. And yet, something made her pause.

‘What do you want, Lord Penford?’ she asked calmly.

‘I…honestly didn’t expect to see you here. But since our paths have crossed, I suppose I owe you an apology.’ Lord Penford took a step closer, and Evangeline shook her head, putting her gloved hands up.

You suppose? She could hardly believe the words coming out of his mouth. Did he expect her to fawn all over him and accept his apology?

‘I would sooner eat rats than accept your apology,’ she said, lifting her chin. ‘Good day.’

Lord Penford raised an eyebrow. ‘I deserve that, I know.’ He glanced around and suggested, ‘Would you care to have tea with me? I know an establishment that has a wonderful selection of cakes,’ he suggested. ‘Perhaps we could go there and talk.’

There was nothing whatsoever to talk about. Did he honestly believe she was still so enamoured of cake that she would set aside her pride and behave as if nothing had gone wrong?

‘No, thank you,’ she said airily. ‘I have no intention of accepting your apology, so you can be on your way.’

Although her words were calm, inwardly, her emotions were churning. The sight of the earl evoked a blend of fury and anguish. He didn’t know, nor could he understand how she’d grieved. He hadn’t stolen her virginity, but he’d stolen her trust in men. With his abrupt departure, he’d shattered the fairy tale she had held so close to her heart.

And stomped on the pieces.

And burned them into ashes.

Evie turned her back on him and entered her shop, fully expecting him to leave. But the earl doggedly followed her inside.

‘I was wrong to leave,’ he said. ‘And I behaved abominably.’

‘Stop following me,’ she insisted. ‘I might have once been a young, starry-eyed girl with dreams of loving you,’ she continued, ‘but you can rest assured that I am no longer that person.’

He studied her face but remained a slight distance away. ‘You startled me that night when you came to call. I got caught up in something I never imagined. And… I knew I couldn’t be the suitor you wanted me to be. Not then.’

His eyes stared into hers in a way that seemed to unravel her senses. She’d mistakenly thought she was over him, but her heart warned that it would take very little to fall back into his arms. She had to push him away, to guard herself from being hurt again.

‘You’re right,’ she said. ‘You let me dream of marriage and a family with you when that was never your intention. I think you should leave, Lord Penford. I don’t want to see you again.’

He gave a single nod. ‘I understand. But I did want to apologise, even if the words are never enough. I hope you found a gentleman worthy of you. And perhaps I’ll see you again at Rose’s wedding in a few weeks.’ He tipped his hat and turned to leave.

Evangeline suppressed a curse and walked to the opposite side of the store, pretending to concentrate on the design sketches. It only made her feel worse. Seeing the images of undergarments and corsets only reminded her of how James had unlaced hers in the garden. Her face burned at the memory, and she closed her eyes, willing back the scandalous vision.

A sudden flare of liquid heat flooded through her. She remembered everything, his hands unlacing her, his hot mouth on her…

Evie shoved the thought away. She never wanted to feel that sort of passion again, only to be abandoned. Being a spinster would suit her better. At least then, she would have her freedom and could live as she chose. She would inherit her family’s business and that would become her purpose.

Somehow, it had to be enough.

Ireland, Three weeks later

James had been careful to keep his distance from Evangeline, but he couldn’t stop staring at her during Rose’s wedding. He couldn’t even say why—perhaps it was the grey dress she wore that contrasted with the bright colours of the other wedding guests. Perhaps she was trying to remain unnoticed, but with her dark black hair and deep blue eyes, the grey gown seemed almost silver. She carried herself like a queen, unlike the shy wallflower she’d once been. It seemed as if she simply didn’t care what anyone else thought of her.

A wistful expression came over her face when the ceremony ended, and the newly wedded couple kissed. James clapped for his sister, who was beaming. Bagpipes resounded with a joyful tune, and Lord Ashton picked up his new wife, turning her in a slow circle. Rose laughed, her long Irish veil getting tangled.

But it was Evangeline’s face that he kept glancing back at. She dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief her mother gave her, and the smile on her face reminded him of the way she had once smiled at him. It made him realise that, if he had simply asked for her hand in marriage two years ago, she might have become his wife.

Then, too, if he’d decided to stay in London, he would have had another year with his father. The familiar grief and guilt washed over him at the thought of all the mistakes he’d made. Yet, he couldn’t go back and change the past. There was little point to it now.

‘James,’ Lily murmured. ‘We have to see to the wedding feast.’

At that, he shook himself out of his reverie. ‘Of course.’

His sister’s face narrowed. ‘Were you just staring at Evangeline?’

‘No,’ he lied. ‘I was watching the wedding. Rose seems very happy.’

‘You were watching her, weren’t you?’ Lily appeared fascinated at the prospect. ‘After all this time, you still care for Evie, don’t you?’ Her expression turned scheming, and he felt the need to stop her from making plans.

‘You should be more concerned about your own future, Lily,’ he warned. ‘And it won’t be with Matthew, I can tell you that.’

Her face turned soft. ‘You’re wrong. Lord Arnsbury will heal, and we will start again. You should do the same.’

He didn’t argue with Lily, not wanting to spoil the day. But it infuriated him that his best friend had seduced and ruined Lily under the pretence of marriage vows that weren’t real.

Why she still held out hope, he didn’t know. Had it been any other man, he’d have demanded that the blackguard marry her. But he didn’t want his sister wedded to someone who could not give her the happiness she deserved.

James couldn’t say anything more, for Rose and her new husband were approaching. He embraced his sister and murmured. ‘You look beautiful, Rose.’ When he drew back, he shook the earl’s hand. ‘I wish you both happiness.’ It was a sincere wish, but unnecessary, for he could already see the love and joy between them.

‘It’s glad I am, to call you Brother,’ the earl answered. ‘I will cherish Rose each and every day.’

The newly wedded couple joined the guests, walking towards the tables set out for feasting. James stepped back while the Irish villagers lined up for the food. The delicious scent made his stomach rumble, but the local wedding guests were far hungrier after the recent famine had taken their crops. He wanted to be certain that they had their fill first.

Evangeline and her family had discreetly brought a great deal of food with them, to ensure that there would be too much for the wedding feast. At first, James hadn’t wanted to accept the gift, but her father insisted that the leftover food would have to be given away to the people. Which was exactly the intent.

Now that he’d seen the gaunt faces of the Irish children, James understood why the food was so necessary. The wedding gave the people a celebration and also a sense of hope.

Only after the others had taken helpings of the roasted chicken, potatoes, and bread, did he join the line after Evangeline. She stiffened the moment he did, as if she couldn’t stand to be in his presence. He deserved that, he supposed.

She didn’t say anything to him, nor did he speak to her. But he took a moment to study her closely. Her dark hair was as beautiful as ever, tightly coiled up with pearls adorning the strands. She held her posture erect, and he noticed the curves of her body, as if the grey gown had been melted upon her. And God help him, he remembered the sweet softness of her bare skin.

He turned his attention away, for he’d made that mistake once before. She despised him, and rightfully so. It was better if he focused his attentions on his family and estate, not Evangeline Sinclair.

One of the Irishmen handed her a tin cup and then gave another one to him. James smelled the whiskey inside, but Evangeline took a drink and coughed a moment before she seemed to recognise what it was.

‘Are you all right?’ he asked, after they stepped away from the table.

‘I’m fine.’ But her wrinkled expression revealed her inexperience with drinking spirits. He eyed her more closely, and she added, ‘I’m certain you have other people you would rather speak with, Lord Penford.’

Her dismissal was quite evident. And he truly ought to leave her alone, he knew. But something about her haughty tone challenged him.

‘Thank you for coming to my sister’s wedding,’ he said. ‘It meant a lot to Rose and Lily.’ He kept his voice entirely polite, but he fully knew he was annoying her.

‘Your sisters are my dearest friends,’ she said coolly. ‘Of course I would attend. Now, if you’ll excuse me…’

‘Does it bother you so much to be in the same room with me?’ He took a step closer, but she held her ground. ‘You don’t have to avoid me, you know.’

‘I am trying to avoid you.’ She lifted her chin in open disdain.

‘I deserve that, I know. But would like to make peace between us,’ he added. Then he remarked, ‘I’m surprised that you didn’t marry while I was away.’

From the stricken look on her face, he regretted the words as soon as he’d spoken them. He’d meant them as a compliment, but clearly, she didn’t see it that way. Her blue eyes were stormy, her mouth tight with anger.

‘I have no intention of being married,’ she said, lifting her chin. ‘I prefer having my freedom, thank you.’ She gave a slight nod and turned her back on him.

But not before he caught her hand. ‘Forgive me. It wasn’t my intention to make you uncomfortable. I actually came to ask for your help—’

Miss Sinclair wrenched her hand away and glared at him. ‘I don’t think so. I’m terribly busy.’ She drained her whiskey cup, and the fierce burn made her start coughing.

‘—with the wedding guests,’ he finished. In a low voice, he added, ‘Your father and I are distributing the extra food you brought. But I want to do more for them.’

Her expression grew sombre when she seemed to realise that this wasn’t about the rift between them. ‘What did you have in mind?’

‘Let’s go and discuss this somewhere the others don’t overhear us.’ He led her past several men and women who were already dancing, the ladies’ skirts swinging while the pipers played a lively tune.

‘I thought of games with money as prizes,’ he continued. ‘The Irish people are too proud to accept charity. What do you think? Would they join in?’

She glanced back at the guests, and her gaze stopped upon the children and elderly guests. ‘I think those who need money the most are the weakest,’ she admitted. ‘The games should not be based on skill.’ She thought a moment and said, ‘You should involve the children.’

‘Should we hide coins for them to find, do you think?’

‘No. They would fight over them.’ Her brow furrowed, and she said, ‘Games might be too much of a distraction from the wedding. Perhaps you could hide the coins with the leftover food baskets. Tie them up with a handkerchief and be discreet. Let them find the money when they are alone.’

Her suggestion held merit. ‘All right. I’ll see to it.’ He offered a friendly smile, but Evangeline didn’t return it. Instead, he saw traces of hurt and frustration in her eyes that she quickly veiled. Although she tried to behave as if she were indifferent to him, he saw more beneath the surface—and it was his fault.

He didn’t deserve her forgiveness, but he’d meant what he said. He did want peace between them, even if friendship was impossible.

And yet, a part of him wished he could go back to the way things had once been between them.

* * *

With a light smile, James turned to depart. For a moment, Evangeline felt a slight twinge of disappointment. He’d spoken to her with friendliness and not a trace of interest. Which was exactly as it should be. She didn’t want him, and he didn’t want her.

But Lord Penford was as handsome as he’d always been. He wore a black cloth jacket and a white shirt and cravat, as well as buff-coloured trousers. His skin still held the tan of India, and during their conversation, she’d found herself thoroughly distracted by his quiet stare. He had gazed at her as if he’d remembered every stolen moment in the garden. God help her, she’d certainly never forgotten it. Her defences rose up and tightened at the thought.

Memory brought back the coaxing kiss, the way his hands had slid over her skin, teaching her what temptation was. Although it had been forbidden, she couldn’t quite bring herself to be sorry. For one forbidden moment, she’d lost sight of the world, and it had stolen the breath from her lungs.

Not to mention, her innocence.

Her face flamed with the memories of their passionate interlude, but worst of all was his rejection. She’d given herself to him wholeheartedly, dreaming that he felt the same way about her. Instead, he’d walked away without a trace of honour, leaving her heart shredded.

The Earl of Penford was a wicked rake, and she simply had to stay away from him from now on.

From behind her, Evangeline heard the cry of a baby. She turned back and saw a young mother patting the infant’s back, speaking soothing words. The sight of them brought an unexpected clench to her heart.

The only problem with never marrying was that she’d always wanted a baby of her own. Lots of children, actually. She imagined holding a child, pressing a kiss against a downy head. The invisible ache deepened, and she turned away, trying to distract herself.

As she passed by the young mother, she said, ‘You have a beautiful baby.’

‘Oh, you’re very kind,’ the woman smiled. ‘The wee one is tired, that’s all.’

An older man stumbled forward, laughing as he did. Though he appeared close to eighty, there was a spring in his step and a strong scent of whiskey on his breath. Evangeline took a step backwards, then another. The man was harmless, but she was more afraid of him falling over.

He beamed at her. ‘’Twas a bonny wedding, I must say.’

‘It was,’ she agreed. And she truly was happy for Rose.

‘And will the two of you be the next to wed?’ he asked, his voice slurred.

The two of who? Evangeline turned around and saw Lord Penford standing behind her. The earl didn’t appear amused, and for a moment, it seemed as if he had approached with the intent of protecting her.

‘I think he means us,’ Penford answered.

‘Absolutely not,’ Evangeline said to the old man.

‘No, not at all,’ James agreed. He took a step closer, placing himself between her and the Irishman.

Though she knew the man was only drunk, James was making his intent to protect her quite clear. She didn’t know what to think about that.

‘And why would you not marry such a beautiful cailín as this?’ the old man asked, still smiling.

An impulsive reply blurted from her lips. ‘Because I was holding out hopes for you.’

At that, the man howled with laughter and slapped his knee. ‘Well, now, I’ll find the priest, and we’ll get on with it.’

Evangeline couldn’t stop her own smile, but Lord Penford didn’t appear amused. She nodded her head to him and said, ‘I should return to my family. It’s getting late.’

Before she could leave, he touched her spine gently. ‘I’ll escort you back.’

From the pressure at her waist, he wasn’t about to be deterred by arguments. She waited until they were out of earshot of the other guests before she stepped away. ‘Thank you, but I can find my family on my own, Lord Penford.’

‘It’s a courtesy,’ he said softly. ‘I don’t want anyone to hurt you.’

‘You already did that two years ago,’ she reminded him. Did he honestly think that time had healed her embarrassment?

‘And I’m sorry for it.’

‘Your apology doesn’t change what happened.’ She crossed her arms and stared at him. In a low voice, she added, ‘I want you to stay far away from me.’

‘I was hoping we could be friends once again,’ he offered.

His words were a blade slicing through her wounded heart. ‘No.’ Her face burned red, and she added, ‘I can’t be your friend, Penford. Not ever.’

‘I deserve that,’ he admitted, ‘but it’s not what I want.’

‘You lost the right to be my friend that night,’ she continued. ‘And every time I’m around you, I think of how naive and foolish I was. It consumes me.’ She shook her head. ‘I need distance from you. Please don’t talk to me again.’

For even after all this time, she had feelings for him. He’d destroyed her trust when he’d left her behind, but her foolish heart still pined.

It was far better if she never saw him again. Or better yet, if she was so unspeakably rude, he would never again look at her with interest.