His face twisted in anger, growing red as he stared at her. “And you get to decide that?” he snapped.
“No,” she retorted, her voice elevating. “She does.”
His mouth opened as if he had something else to say, but then he shut it abruptly. There was a part of her that was pleased she could frustrate him even a little.
And another part that wanted him to understand her position, not hate her for it.
“Listen to me, Evan, and try to understand what I’m saying to you. Since Claire left your family, she has had so much forced on her, taken from her. She will come back when she is ready to do so.”
He stared at her, his pain plain on his face. It twisted her gut to see it there.
“You don’t understand,” he whispered.
She turned her head. Here she had felt a connection to him, a true sense of belonging. And yet she was still an outsider to him, even after all they had shared.
“Don’t I?” she whispered. “I lost her too. And unlike you, she was all I had.”
She didn’t wait for his retort—she simply turned her back and left the cottage. Left him. But she couldn’t leave the searing pain that hit her belly, not only because she was reminded of all she’d lost in Claire.
But because it was clear that she had likely lost the tenuous relationship she’d begun to build with Evan too.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“Why did Mama insist we attend this ridiculous party?” Gabriel asked as he approached Evan and handed over a watered down drink.
“I have no bloody idea.” Evan shot a glance toward his younger brother. It had been two days since their unpleasant encounter in the parlor. Two days since he had last touched or seen Josie.
For Gabriel’s part, he seemed intent on ignoring the ugliness that had flared between them. Perhaps that was just as well. At this point, Evan was reluctant to discuss anything of real merit with Gabriel. Pretending their row hadn’t happened was likely best for all involved.
With Josie it was more complicated. He had spent the last forty-eight hours running over every moment of their last conversation together, analyzing what had been said and done between them.
And he was stuck. On one side was the guilt he felt. Josie had flat out asked him if he was using her desire for him against her. And he had lied. He had done exactly what Gabriel wanted and leveraged their physical connection in order to obtain information about Claire.
On the other side was an equally troubling realization. He could see now that the desire, the need, the connection he was building with Josie was about more than just his lost sister. He missed Josie’s touch. He missed the easy passion between them that seemed to come from nowhere and yet had become so damned important to him. And it had only been two days.
“Do you think she’s hoping we find wives?”
Evan shook his head at his brother’s question. In truth, he had all but forgotten Gabriel’s existence at his side, anyone’s existence at that moment, when he was obsessing over Josie. He blinked.
“What? Who?” he asked, trying to focus.
His brother tilted his head. “Mama. Do you think she’s so pleased by the recent matches of Edward and Audrey that she is hoping by sending us to this soiree we will come home with ladies to court?”
Evan pursed his lips. Honestly, he wouldn’t put such a plan past their mother, especially now that she was recovering so nicely from her fever. She was bored sitting in her bed all day. Likely she was plotting.
“If that is her desire, she will be sorely disappointed,” he said. “There is certainly no one here to tempt—” He cut himself off as Josie stepped into the room with her mother. “Me,” he finished, the heat gone from his declaration.
She was utterly lovely in every way. From the way her dark hair was twisted and curled so that little tendrils of it framed her heart-shaped face to the way her full lips pressed together as she searched the room. She wore a light green dress with elaborate gold leafing stitched into the skirt, all of which brought out the brightness of her eyes and the porcelain perfection of her skin.
His mouth went dry. Her gown clung perfectly to her curves, those curves he knew so damned well. And his errant mind took him to images of getting her alone and stripping away every layer of fabric to touch and pleasure what lay beneath.
“Oh look, it’s Josie,” his brother said before he took a sip of wine. “How are things going with—”
Before Gabriel could finish his question, Evan walked away, moving across the floor toward her. He watched as her mother wandered off to speak to a friend, watched as Josie maneuvered her way to the edge of the room to find a place along the wall where she could disappear. A pang of guilt twisted his gut as he thought of why she felt that way.
He kept an eye on her as he moved through the crowd, dodging her gaze so he could observe her unseen for a moment. He was standing behind a pillar near her when he saw two young women whispering. He leaned in to hear.
“…wallflower,” one of the young ladies was finishing before she glanced toward Josie.
He glanced at her and saw Josie could hear the women as clearly as he could. She lifted her chin and stared off into the crowd without saying a word.
“Well, I don’t know why she even comes anymore,” another of the young women said with a catty giggle. “Who would want her?”
“You’d have to ask Horsey that,” the first girl said with a toss of her head that was likely meant to see if Josie could hear them. “I wouldn’t know.”
The window of vision before Evan’s eyes suddenly went red at the words he heard. He clenched his teeth, tightened his fists and stepped out from around the pillar. When he came into view, he heard Josie gasp and watched as the two young women who had been gossiping about her straightened up to smile at him.
“Oh, I didn’t see you there,” said the first. “Good evening, my lord.”
Evan ignored her sudden politeness as he looked from one to the other. “Lady Veronica, yes?” he asked, pointing to the first girl, a brunette who he might have once called rather pretty, though she was anything but to him now.
She blushed. “Oh goodness, sir, I had no idea you knew who I was.”
“The Earl of Littleton’s daughter,” he continued. She nodded enthusiastically, but before she could speak Evan turned his attention to her companion, a curly haired blonde with blue eyes she batted at him relentlessly. “And you—you are the daughter of Sir Trestworth.”
“I am,” the young lady supplied with a slight incline of her head. “Charmed to make your acquaintance, I’m sure.”
He shook his head. “You think I am charmed by you? Charmed by your rudeness and childishness?”
He looked over to find Josie staring at him, eyes wide and hands clasped in front of her.
“I—well—but—” Lady Veronica stammered.
“I heard how rudely you addressed Miss Westfall,” he continued, motioning to Josie.
The young women turned, and at least the brunette had the wherewithal to gasp as if she were surprised. “Oh goodness, Miss Westfall, I-I didn’t see you there.”
Josie shook her head. “Didn’t you?” she said quietly.
“I think you did,” Evan continued. “And you were nasty, vile little creatures. And it is funny, you know, because I think the true reason you are such nasty, vile creatures is because you look at Miss Westfall and you are jealous.”
“Jealous?” Lady Veronica and Josie repeated together. Lady Veronica just sounded confused, but Josie’s tone was incredulous.
He turned his attention back to Josie. “Jealous because when Miss Westfall walked into the room, the attention of half the men went to her. How could it not?”
Josie held his gaze for a few seconds, then turned away with a frown. He forced himself to look at her tormenters again. What he was about to do, to say, would perhaps not reflect well on him. But in that moment he did not care. The world didn’t matter. Josie did.
“I want you to underst
and something, and I want you to pass this information along to all your catty, simple little friends. The something is this: no one will ever call Josie by the name ‘Horsey’ again, is that clear? If I hear of that nickname being used, I will find out who did it and I shall make sure they are made to be very uncomfortable socially. Now go back to your guardians and try to hold yourselves with a little more grace in the future.”
The young women gaped at him, but Lady Veronica recovered herself first. She turned to Josie and muttered an apology, then grasped her friend’s arm and dragged her away. Once they were gone, Evan moved toward Josie. He expected her to turn her gaze toward him with gratitude. At least he hoped she would be pleased. But instead when she looked at him, her cheeks were filled with high color and her bottom lip trembled.
“Excuse me, my lord,” she muttered, and then pushed past him to exit the room.
He stared at her retreating back, utterly confused by why she had reacted so strongly to his defense of her. And all he could do was follow to find out why she was not thanking him for his aid.
Josie flung herself into the first open parlor and slammed the door behind her. She paced along the length of the room to the window and stood there, staring out at the dark garden as she tried to calm her rapidly spiraling thoughts.
And of course behind her, the door opened. She didn’t have to turn to know who had followed her. And yet she did, and found herself face to face with Evan.
He was devastatingly handsome in his fitted evening clothes. More devastating was the confused and hesitant look on his face as he closed the parlor door and leaned against it. They were alone. Inappropriately alone. For a moment, her upset over what he had done faded and she wished she could go to him. Touch him. Forget everything in his arms.
“Josie,” he said softly, and the spell was broken.
She took a long step in his direction.
“Why did you do that?” she hissed, wishing her voice didn’t crack and reveal her hurt, her embarrassment, so clearly.
He drew back. “Do what? Defend you?”
She shook her head. “Oh God, Evan, that was the least of some of the taunts I’ve had to endure over the years.”
He flinched and she saw his regrets mirrored in his eyes. “You never should have been treated that way.”
That simple sentence hit her straight in the gut, but she ignored how much the words meant. “Don’t you understand? The best course of action is to ignore them when they start. To not show them that they cut you to the bone. To not reveal your underbelly and give them another place to stab.”
He blinked. “You think my words made you more vulnerable?”
She shrugged, reliving that moment when he had stepped out from his hiding spot and confronted her tormentors. Hadn’t she thrilled for a moment that a knight had come to rescue her at last? Hadn’t it been magnificent to watch the color drain from those ugly faces? Or hear them stammer apologies?
But then there were the other things she’d seen. Like those around them leaning in, whispering. Like the eyes that had followed her from the ballroom.
Evan had made her the new center of attention. And that was one place she had no interest in being. It was too bright there, too dangerous. All her flaws would be amplified.
“Oh God,” she whispered, turning so she didn’t have to look at him. “Of course I’m more vulnerable.”
“I don’t understand why,” he insisted.
She looked at him again and smiled at his naivety. “Oh Evan. Lovely, popular, handsome Evan. You have always been the center of attention, haven’t you? You are a flame and all the moths gather and dance around you. You can see no danger in that because you are charmed and beautiful.”
“Don’t speak like I’m a child,” he grunted, folding his arms.
“But in this you are,” she continued. “You’ve probably never felt the sting of cruelty. You’ve never wanted to just disappear into the ground and never come back. You’ve never prayed that you’d wake up invisible.”
“What does that have to do with what I just did?” he asked softly.
She tilted her head. “They were all watching, Evan. Listening. When I walked into the ballroom tonight, I was an unimportant girl who had once been chubby and had a nickname used to tease her. As soon as you decided to become my champion, all the curiosity in the room became focused on me. Right now they are talking about me. And I assure you that much of the talk isn’t good.”
“How can you know that?” Evan said with a shake of his head. “That they are talking about you and that it is not good?”
“Because I’ve stood on the wall watching them do it to me and to others for years,” she said, throwing up her hands in frustration. “I felt them staring at me as you spoke, I felt them watching me as I left the room. I’m sure they watched you as you followed me. And right now they are whispering about what exactly I must have done to inspire Lord Evan Hartwell, handsome second son of the House of Woodley, to defend me. They are reminding themselves that I was ugly as a girl, they are trying to decide if I am still ugly—”
“Enough,” Evan said, holding up a hand. His teeth were clenched and he drew a few breaths. “If they are talking about you, Josie, I assure you that it isn’t to talk about how ugly you are.”
“Why wouldn’t—”
“You have told me what I don’t understand, now it is my turn to school you.” He moved closer. “Josie, when you walked into the ballroom, the eyes were already following you. Mine, yes, but I saw other men tracking your movements. I watched their eyes light up with interest, lust. I hate it, but it’s true.”
She shook her head. “That is not possible.” She blinked several times but he never looked less than utterly serious. “That cannot be true.”
“But it is,” he said softly as he reached out a hand to trace the curve of her cheek. “You are beautiful, Josie, desirable.”
“I have curves that aren’t fashionable,” she said, though it was hard to think when his fingers were stroking her skin like that.
“When it comes to men, curves are always fashionable,” he whispered. “In truth, that is likely the cause behind any teasing that still goes on. When women see men look at you that way, they would be fools not to be jealous.”
“Jealous of me?” Josie snorted, but the words touched her. “That is a laugh.”
“Laugh all you want.” He leaned closer and his breath whispered over her lips. “It’s true.”
His mouth brushed hers, light and gentle, and it took everything in her not to melt against him, surrender to him. Instead, she stepped back.
“If they all want me so much, then why do I have no suitors?” she asked.
“When was the last time you were asked to dance?” he asked.
She shrugged. “I don’t know. In London. Some god-awful gathering at Almack’s, I suppose.”
“Did you say yes?”
She frowned. “He was the brother of one of my tormentors. I declined.”
“I see. When was the last time you actually said yes to a man who approached you?” he pressed.
She shifted. “I…I don’t rightly remember.”
He smiled as he reached out to tap her lightly on the tip of her nose. “That may be your answer, Jocelyn Westfall. You have made yourself very mysterious, which men find alluring, I assure you. But you have also made yourself unreachable.”
Was that true? She had turned down partners because she had doubted their motives. She had doubted herself. Was Evan right that in doing so, she had cut herself off from true connection?
“I…I built my own wall?” she whispered.
“Perhaps. Though you were the prettiest flower along it, I assure you.”
She felt like she couldn’t breathe. “What you say makes no sense to me.”
He nodded. “I know. Because you let what others say about you as a girl sink into your skin. You began to doubt yourself, to believe them. And eventually it was your own voice that berated you.”r />
She dipped her head. “That—that might be true, yes.”
“You can stop that voice any time, Josie.”
She stared at him. Here he was, so utterly handsome, and he could not possibly understand. “It isn’t so easy as that.”
He stepped closer once more and her heart all but stopped as he reached out to take her hand. He lifted it to his chest and held it there so she could feel the steady throb of his heart.
“If your voice refuses to be kind, then replace it with mine.” He squeezed her fingers gently. “Jocelyn Westfall is beautiful. And desirable. And kind. And so very arousing. Jocelyn Westfall, you deserve better.”
She blinked and all thoughts of her childhood troubles or her current embarrassments faded. In that moment all she could see or think about was the man before her. The complicated, frustrating, wonderful man who held her hand and confused the hell out of her.
“What are we doing?” she whispered.
His eyes went wide at the question, and for a moment he didn’t speak. She saw him struggling, trying to find the answer she herself didn’t know or understand. Finally he shook his head. “I’m not quite certain, Josie? Are you?”
“No,” she admitted as she allowed him to draw her closer. “But I like it.”
His eyes went wide and his smile broadened. “Even though you hate me?” he teased gently.
She refused to tease back, not when he was so close. Not when everything in her world was tightening in concentric circles to just him. Only him. Always him.
“A lady doesn’t hate,” she murmured.
He laughed, but his focus never wavered from her face. “Strongly despise me?”
She reached up to cup the back of his head and gently drew him to her. Just before she touched her lips to his, she whispered, “Not anymore.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Josie leaned up into Evan’s lips, drinking him in like he was water and she had roamed the desert for days. Being apart from him seemed like forever. Being with him now felt like the only thing that mattered.
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