‘You gave me quite a start,’ she said. ‘Forgive me, love. I didn’t hear you come in.’ Her face softened at once. ‘You were gone for quite a while. I hope that implies it went well? Or at least as well as it could, I suppose.’
Lottie nodded. ‘Yes, thank you, Sarah.’
‘The servants are able to return to their usual duties tomorrow?’ she asked hesitantly.
Lottie had given them all the day off again today, knowing she wouldn’t want anyone hovering about. Aside from Sarah, who had declined to leave—as she did on all the days off Lottie tried to offer her.
‘Yes, thank you,’ Lottie said.
‘Lady Alice sent you a message.’ Sarah approached the fireplace and slid a heavy card onto the table.
Lottie regarded the envelope with her name written on it in neat, careful script. She hoped it wasn’t an invitation to a soiree or a ball. The last thing she wanted was to attend a social event.
‘Her maid said she’s in quite a state and wants to see you as soon as you’re free.’ Sarah indicated the message.
Lottie lifted the envelope and opened it to read the contents within, which reiterated what Sarah had relayed. ‘I’ll see her tomorrow, whenever she is free to come.’
Sarah remained stubbornly where she stood. ‘How did Lord Westix do with seeing the cottage?’
An image flashed in Lottie’s mind of him holding his face in his hand as he wept for their lost Lily.
‘Appropriately,’ Lottie said softly.
‘I knew he would.’ Sarah nodded with a sad smile. ‘He’s a good man, your Lord Westix.’
Lottie turned back to the fire and let her gaze become lost in the flickering orange and red flames. ‘He is.’ She mustered a weak smile. ‘You did well on the statue. Thank you.’
‘It was the least I could do for you, lovey.’ Sarah approached where Lottie still stood by the fire. ‘Has something else happened?’
Lottie swallowed. ‘I told him I loved him.’
Sarah remained silent.
‘I know you’re smiling.’ Lottie turned to regard her maid and discovered the woman was indeed grinning like a fool.
Sarah propped a hand on her hip. ‘Is it really so bad that he knows, love?’
Lottie returned her gaze to the flames once more. ‘Only time will tell, but I am almost certain it is.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Red roses, this time. As deep a red as could be found. A dozen of them. Or maybe three dozen?
No, that was too much.
Evander didn’t want to be ridiculous.
His nerves jangled like church bells in his ears. Two years he had been waiting for this moment. Everything had to be perfect.
He scarcely heard anything Miss Flemming said, aside from her wish to bid him good luck.
The pace of the carriage seemed to be a slow crawl all the way to Bloomsbury. His leg bounced with the force of his anxious energy, as though somehow that might hasten them to Lottie’s townhouse.
Doubt crossed his mind like a shadow, but he cast it in the light of assurance. Yes, Lottie did love him.
Evander removed himself from the carriage and Lottie’s butler settled him in the drawing room.
Though he’d been in her home countless times before, it all felt different on this particular visit. The path to the drawing room seemed longer, his steps over the carpet running along the polished wood floors louder.
The butler indicated the settee, which he sat on despite his restless agitation.
His gaze wandered towards the iris and white tulip bouquet he’d purchased for Lottie following the night when he’d punched Devonington. Though it had only been a few days ago, it felt as if an age had passed since then.
He regarded the roses in his hand as the double doors opened and Lottie walked in. He swiftly got to his feet, roses offered in presentation.
She smiled and accepted the flowers. ‘You’ll run all of London out of hothouse flowers if you keep this pace.’ She leaned over the bunch of perfect roses, closed her eyes and breathed in. ‘They do smell lovely. Thank you.’
Her gown was a butter-yellow that made him think of those sunny summer days Lottie had described at the cottage. Though she was as lovely as ever, the effects of the emotional day before had left the delicate skin under her eyes slightly bruised. He wanted to hold her as he’d done the day before, to gently kiss her sweet lips and whisper words of undying affection in her ear.
The maid, Sarah, came in with a tea tray and took the flowers from Lottie to put them in a vase. Evander did not miss the way Sarah’s brows rose with enthusiasm as she passed Lottie.
‘Would you care for some tea?’ Lottie asked, when the door had closed and she’d taken a seat.
Evander shook his head and settled on the settee. ‘I wanted to see you today.’
She pursed her lips. ‘And you see me and have my attention.’
‘That’s the thing of it,’ he continued. ‘I want you always.’
‘Always?’
There was a sudden remoteness to her expression, making her entirely unreadable.
Damn it.
He’d come with purpose and he would not be swayed. Not when she was what he wanted. When she was all he’d ever wanted.
He drew the ring box out of his pocket. Not the original one, of course—he didn’t know where that might be. But a finer one, with a bed of black silk as glossy as Lottie’s luxurious hair.
‘Charlotte Rossington, I have loved you since the moment I met you at that dance in Bedfordshire, when you struck me with your beauty and won me over with your wit.’
The small muscles in her neck stood out, but still her face reflected not a hint of emotion.
‘I have never stopped loving you,’ he continued, as one was wont to do when one was proposing and unsure of how things were progressing with the opposite party. In for a penny, in for a pound, and all that. ‘You will receive hothouse flowers for as long I’m living and I vow to be unwavering in my loyalty to you.’
His thoughts at her blank expression became like frenzied ants after their hill had been kicked. She looked as if she did not want him to be doing this, but did not wish to be so cruel as to tell him to stop.
‘I will always love you,’ he said.
And on that pathetically clichéd note he concluded what was perhaps the worst proposal of all time to the most important woman of his life.
He knelt before her and presented the box, with the little ring of their youth nestling beneath the lid. She looked down at it, not taking it.
‘I have wanted to do this since I returned to London,’ he said. ‘I never wanted you to feel I was forcing your hand. However, now that I know you feel the same way...’
Her brows pinched together.
‘Lottie, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?’
‘Evander.’
She said his name slowly and his stomach began the long, awful slide to his toes.
‘You’re an earl,’ she said softly.
He got to his feet. ‘And you’ll be my Countess.’
‘You know I will never be accepted among the ton.’ She swallowed. ‘Not after what I’ve done.’
‘You did that to survive. For—’
‘They don’t care about the reason.’ Her tone was flat, resigned.
‘Why should their opinion of you matter?’ he demanded.
‘Because you’re right—I do love you.’ Lottie looked helplessly out the window to the garden, where rain pattered over the heavy rose blossoms. ‘I can’t bear the thought of your good family name being ruined because of my tarnished reputation.’
‘Lottie, please.’ He reached for her hand, setting the box against her palm. ‘I love you. I’ve loved you since—’
‘Since the Bedfordshire ball—I know.’ She glanced dow
n at the box in her hand, toying lightly at one corner with her thumbnail. ‘But I’m not that young woman any more. There’s nothing of her left in me.’
In a slow motion that threatened to tear his heart from his chest, she extended the ring box back towards him. Returning it.
Rejection.
He stepped back, refusing to accept it. ‘Tomorrow,’ he said. ‘Think on it and give me your answer tomorrow.’
‘It won’t change,’ Lottie said sadly.
‘Think on it,’ he said again. ‘At least promise me that.’
She pulled the box back towards her and folded it in her hand. At last, she nodded. ‘I will think on it.’
Evander breathed a sigh of relief. For now. Tomorrow might truly bring the same answer again. If that were to happen...
He gritted his teeth, resolved not even to think it. She had to say yes. It would be foolish not to when two people loved each other as they did.
Now all he needed was a miracle to convince her.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
June 1816
Lottie stared down at the small diamond ring, her heart hammering in her chest. Evander would be back tomorrow for her answer.
But how could she say anything but no?
The door to the drawing room opened.
‘All red roses,’ Sarah said wistfully.
Lottie’s head snapped up as her maid entered the drawing room with the large bouquet of red roses in a crystal vase.
Sarah’s perceptive gaze settled on the ring. ‘I’ve seen that before.’
Of course she recognised it. She had been the one to keep it safe while Lottie was with her protectors. Never had she allowed herself to wear that ring around any other man. At least not in any intimate setting. And when her time was her own, it had hung on the chain or been on her finger.
‘You are not glowing with delight.’ Sarah frowned. ‘Please tell me you did not refuse him.’
‘I didn’t.’ Lottie folded the ring in her hand. The metal was cool against her palm. ‘Or at least he wouldn’t allow me to. He asked me to think on it and I promised him that I would.’
‘And will you?’ Sarah set the roses on the table beside the irises and white tulips, her head tilted in assessment.
‘How can I marry him?’ Lottie demanded. ‘How can I let him destroy his family’s good name by being with me? I’ve told you how I’ve been spoken to. Evander will be treated thus as well. His mother too. I cannot do that. Not when...’
‘Not when you love him so much,’ Sarah finished for her. ‘I know, lovey. I know... But you would be happy with him.’
‘But would he be happy with me?’ Lottie asked bitterly. ‘When his friends turn on him and his associates no longer want to do business with him? When his mother is ostracised by her friends? When he...’ her voice grew husky ‘...when he hears stories of the men I shared company with?’
Sarah moved the red roses from the table and placed them on the mantel. ‘I can’t answer those questions—but I can tell you that I’ve never seen a man care for a woman as much as Lord Westix does for you.’ Sarah nodded to herself, content with the relocation of the roses. ‘Now, I hate to pull you from your contemplation of his offer—which I do think you ought to truly consider, if my opinion is needed. But, mercy me, the time has slipped away. Forgive me, lovey, but Lady Alice will be here soon.’
It was very rare that Lottie saw her students during the day, but Lady Alice had insisted on coming as soon as possible.
‘I’ll go prepare a fresh pot of tea.’ Sarah glanced again at the ring. ‘You know my opinion.’
‘I do.’ Lottie gave her a pointed look. ‘Though I don’t recall having asked.’
Sarah simply grinned and exited the drawing room.
Once she was gone, Lottie tucked the ring back into its small box, knowing for certain her answer would not change. No matter how vocal Sarah might be on the subject.
There could be no second chance—not with everything that stood between her and Evander.
Her butler arrived in the drawing room, his uniform as crisp as his demeanour. ‘Forgive me, mistress, but Lady Alice is here to see you.’
Lottie opened the drawer in the table and slid the ring box inside before swiftly closing it. ‘Please show her in.’
Lady Alice practically charged into the room, her eyes red-rimmed, her bonnet still secured under her chin after her carriage ride.
‘Thank you so much for agreeing to see me so quickly.’
She yanked unceremoniously at the pink bow of her bonnet, tugging it off so her blonde hair became mussed, a long way from its usual neat coiffure, and offered it to the butler with a nod of thanks.
He accepted the hat, gave a little bow and quit the room, closing the double doors behind him as he did so.
Lottie helpfully smoothed Lady Alice’s hair for her. ‘Please have a seat and tell me what’s happened to have you so upset. I thought George had made his way back to you?’
Lady Alice promptly slumped onto the settee and gave a miserable sniffle. ‘He has—except that now he feels he’s unworthy of me.’
‘Tell me what happened,’ Lottie said. ‘First by explaining where he has been.’
Lady Alice took a deep breath and nodded. ‘He was in Spain, but he was injured and knocked unconscious in a battle near the end of the Peninsular War. When he woke, he had no recollection of who he was. He’s only recently recovered his memory and made his way home.’
Sarah entered with a fresh pot of tea and then bustled out swiftly.
Lottie poured some tea into a delicate china cup for Lady Alice while she continued.
‘I was overjoyed to see him again. Though my mother wasn’t, as she’s now convinced I should marry an earl after my engagement to Lord Ledsey.’
‘So she’s stepping between you?’ Lottie poured herself a cup of tea and settled back to let it cool. ‘I presume she’s not aware you’re here.’
Lady Alice lifted her shoulders in a guilty shrug. ‘I told her I was taking tea with a friend. I wasn’t lying.’ She lifted her cup and took a delicate sip. ‘My mother knows I love him. I believe she’ll allow me to marry him.’
‘Then the problem...?’
‘George.’ Lady Alice folded her hands in the lap of her pink sprigged day dress and looked down at them. ‘He feels he’s not worthy of me.’
‘Because he was gone so long?’ Lottie asked, before she could stop herself.
She immediately chastised herself for the assumption. This was Lady Alice’s life. Not her own. Discussing matters with Evander had lodged them into the forefront of Lottie’s mind and was now impacting how she handled her students.
‘No.’ Lady Alice scuffed the toe of her slipper against the carpet. ‘He lost an arm due to the injuries he sustained in battle, and he fears it’s made him less of a man than he was before the war. Of course I don’t feel that way, but he won’t listen. Men are so terribly stubborn, aren’t they?’
‘Oh, I’m so sorry.’ Lottie moved over to the settee to sit beside the young woman and embraced her. ‘Yes, men can be terribly stubborn,’ she agreed.
‘Well, I can be stubborn too.’ Lady Alice raised her chin with determination. ‘I love him with all my heart and I told him as much. He told me he loves me too, and that’s why he’s doing this—which is all foolishness.’ Lady Alice sighed. ‘For me, there will never be anyone else. I’ve been given a second chance with him and I refuse to lose it.’
Lottie smiled at the younger woman’s determined spirit. ‘That is exactly as it should be, then, if you truly love him.’
‘I do.’ Lady Alice nodded firmly. ‘Now, how do I go about convincing him?’
Lottie settled back in contemplation. Except all she could picture in her mind was Evander, fighting for her with that same resolve. What would she want him to tell her?
What could Evander tell her that would change her mind?
And then she knew exactly what answer to give—though Lady Alice would not like it.
‘I think,’ Lottie said gently, ‘he will need to come to that conclusion on his own.’
Lady Alice’s pretty face fell. ‘There’s nothing I can do to help?’
‘Perhaps let him know what it is you love about him, but he must realise it on his own.’ Lottie recalled how Evander had punched Devonington for her. ‘And stand up for him if someone speaks ill of him.’
Lady Alice nodded firmly. ‘I can do that.’
‘I pray he comes around quickly.’ Lottie held the younger woman’s hand in her own and gave it an affectionate squeeze.
As Lady Alice left, Lottie could not stop thinking once more about Evander and how eerily similar their situation was. Except that a missing arm would not destroy a family’s name. A missing arm could not have a sordid past that might shake a husband’s stoicism.
While the sentiments might be reminiscent, their situations were entirely different. However, it did give Lottie an idea for a way they could still be together without her blemishing the Westix name.
* * *
Evander had blundered in his first attempt with Lottie. He would not do so again. This time he anticipated that she would reject his proposal. And this time he knew exactly what to say.
Once more, he stopped by Aphrodite & Cupid.
Miss Flemming greeted him with her usual smile. ‘Another grand bouquet, Lord Westix?’
‘Not quite.’ Evander glanced around the shop. ‘I should like a bunch of flowers, nothing grand. Daffodils and pink carnations, please. However, I should like you to choose the shoddiest flowers you can find.’
Miss Flemming blinked. ‘I do beg your pardon, my lord, but we only have fine flowers here. We wouldn’t have any that aren’t beautiful.’
Evander frowned. ‘I see. I suppose whatever daffodils and carnations you have will suffice.’
Miss Flemming sucked in a quick breath. ‘It suddenly occurs to me we have daffodils in the small garden we tend at the back. Would you... Would you like some of those?’
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