Lottie tilted her head, turning the pointed white brim of her hat just so, to obscure only one eye. ‘Do you think you will make me happy again?’
Now there was an answer he knew well.
He leaned forward, taking her gloved hands in his, and answered with the utmost certainty. ‘I know I will.’
* * *
Lottie had always been attracted to Evander’s sense of confidence. When she was younger she could not imagine possessing such self-assuredness. And even now, as a woman who stood on her own two feet, the way he carried himself held great appeal.
The manner with which he claimed to know she would be happy with him again did wonders to soothe that place in her chest where he had wounded her before. Part of her was still calling his words a mere fantasy. And yet there was another part of her, desperate to revel in life again, that wanted to believe that fantasy was reality. She wanted to be the woman in the story, rescued by the man who loved her.
But how did she open a wounded heart that was so wrapped in on itself?
‘What are you thinking?’ he asked.
She felt her lips curl up in spite of herself. ‘You used to ask me that all the time.’
He settled back in his seat, his pose relaxed, in an almost arrogant manner. ‘I still want to know.’
‘I’m thinking that I want to be happy.’ She toyed with the fingertips of her gloves in an attempt to fight the urge to twist her fingers.
The motion gave her away regardless, and he raised his brow with suspicion. ‘There’s more.’
She shook her head and returned her gaze to outside the window, where couples strode by arm in arm, their unions seeming so simple, so natural. ‘I’m wondering if it’s even possible. If I can...’
There was so much between herself and Evander. So much pain. Such a breach of trust that had cost far too much.
His hands closed over hers. She startled from her thoughts.
‘I know,’ he said gently, and the hurt in his green eyes told her he truly did. ‘Will you try?’
Without realising what she was doing, she nodded.
His expression brightened. ‘You will?’
‘I’m here now, aren’t I?’ she asked, suddenly breathless with the boldness of her decision, the risk she was taking. She was balancing on the razor-sharp blade of a knife—one whose cut she could not withstand a second time.
‘Yes.’ He gave a relieved chuckle. ‘I will do everything I can to prove to you I am worthy of a second chance for us.’
‘Us.’ Warmth glowed inside her as she repeated the word. ‘I like the way that sounds.’
‘I do too.’
Somehow the space between them in the carriage seemed far more intimate. All at once she recalled how he’d kissed her the day before, his mouth so tender on hers, his affection so apparent.
‘I’ve been invited to a ball at Dalton Place in two days’ time,’ Evander said. ‘Will you be in attendance?’
Lottie considered her correspondence over the prior few weeks. Social events were not things she agreed to attend, but that didn’t mean she never received invitations. Generally they were from pupils who had found happiness and now considered her a friend. Violet, Countess of Dalton, was one such lady. It would not surprise Lottie if she did have an invitation to the Dalton ball and had either declined or not yet responded.
‘I may be,’ Lottie finally replied.
‘I should like to see you there.’ Evander glanced towards the townhouse on the other side of the narrow windowpane.
Her townhouse.
When had they wound their way back to her home?
How had their time together come to such a swift end?
Perhaps it was a whisper of happiness, a promise of better things to come.
Lottie nodded. ‘I too should like that very much. Thank you for a lovely afternoon.’
‘I assure you the pleasure was all mine.’ He gazed at her, besotted, as he exited the carriage, helped her down with tenderness, and walked her to her front door.
She wanted him to linger there for ever. Except they were in full view of everyone. With a bow, he left, taking her heart with him.
Once inside, she located Sarah and informed her she must find the invitation to Dalton Place, which was easily done, and reply saying she would be delighted to attend.
The ball would be filled with many friends, and there was no hiding from the ton now that Lottie and Evander had been seen in Hyde Park. Whether she was ready or not, Lottie had plunged herself into the opportunity of a second chance with Evander. A possibility that some day she might actually allow herself to be with him again, trust him again. In whatever form that might take.
And, while the idea of the ton’s reaction filled her with trepidation, there was also an unmistakable excitement for a future with Evander—an excitement that could only be rivalled by Sarah’s enthusiasm.
And so it was that Lottie found herself counting the hours until she next saw Evander, and wondering about the happiness they might once more find with one another.
Chapter Fourteen
Whatever nerves had plagued Lottie on her previous outings among the ton with Evander were non-existent the night of the ball at Dalton Place.
She wore a lavender gown with a layer of white tulle over it that glittered with brilliants as they caught the candlelight. Sarah had done a simple, elegant arrangement of Lottie’s hair, one not requiring the aid of curling tongs or ribbons or jewelled combs. The mirror reflected Lottie as a woman who knew the power of her own beauty, with a confidence unlike any she ever thought to possess when she’d been a naive vicar’s daughter.
With such self-assurance, surely it was possible to rise above people’s opinions.
Her stubbornly tilted chin was reflected in the glass with matched determination.
She could do this. She would do this.
But behind her determination there was melancholy hovering about her awareness—the same way it did every year around this time, and had done for the last three years. A memory she could never forget.
She embraced the pain of it, cupping it against her heart, and left for Dalton Place with a steeled spine.
She arrived in a flood of other guests and donned her confidence like a cloak, sweeping into the ballroom when she was announced.
Lady Dalton rushed towards her as soon as she entered. Her pink silk dress and the lovely flush to her cheeks, placed there no doubt by the recent birth of her daughter, accentuated her creamy skin.
‘Oh, Lottie, it’s so wonderful to see you.’
Violet had been miserable when she’d first begun seeing Lottie the previous year. There was no evidence of any sorrow on her glowing face now. Marriage suited her well.
‘I apologise for my late acceptance of your gracious invitation.’ Lottie reached for Violet’s hand and squeezed it affectionately.
‘You needn’t apologise at all.’ Violet smiled. ‘We’re just so happy you’re here.’
Lord Dalton joined his wife and nodded to Lottie in greeting. ‘Thank you for coming. Violet was delighted when you agreed to attend. And I’m thrilled to see my sister so happy.’ He glanced over his shoulder across the room, to where Lord Rawley was speaking with Lady Caroline.
‘I do so hope things work out for them,’ Violet clasped her hands to her chest. ‘Caroline truly cares for him.’
‘I think we can at least hope for a dance this evening,’ Lottie said, thinking back to the shirt she had gifted him on their last session—a shirt with cuffs that were embroidered with the steps of the cotillion. There would be no lost scraps of paper or smeared ink on his palms this time.
Lord Dalton lifted his brows. ‘Do you know something we don’t?’
Lottie simply gave a little shrug.
Someone else caught her eye in the crowd of guests, several paces f
rom Lord Rawley.
Evander.
Violet gave a little laugh. ‘I think you have your own dance waiting. We won’t detain you.’
Lottie inclined her head graciously to them and slipped into the crowd.
‘Miss Rossington.’ Evander, handsome as ever in a green waistcoat and dark jacket, bowed and kissed her hand. ‘Is that lovely smile for me?’
She laughed. ‘You are incorrigible.’
Several people shifted around them to make room on the dance floor.
Evander offered her his hand. ‘May I claim your first dance this evening?’
‘I would love nothing more.’
Lottie allowed him to lead her to the dance floor, where they were several couples away from Lord Rawley and Lady Caroline.
Lottie stole a quick glance in their direction just as Rawley peeked at the cuff of his shirt beneath his jacket sleeve. As the music filled the air his steps were as they should be, and he gave only occasional glimpses downward.
‘It feels like heaven to dance with you once more, Lottie,’ Evander said, drawing her focus back to him. ‘You’re even more graceful than I remember.’
His flattery warmed Lottie with pleasure. He always had been complimentary of her. She still remembered when she’d shyly shown him her watercolours. She’d thought them simple things, of no great import other than to bring her peace when she painted. But he’d gone on about her skill and made her feel as though her painting was more than just dabbling to fill her time.
Through the dance they laughed and talked as they had in old times whenever the music brought them together, watching one another in eager anticipation as the dance pulled them apart. All too soon, it came to an end.
‘You appear flushed, Miss Rossington,’ Evander said with a wink.
She immediately caught on to what he implied. ‘Mercy me, I am feeling rather warm. Do excuse me. I require a moment on the terrace.’
‘Of course.’ He stepped back to allow her to pass through the double doors at the rear of the ballroom.
Lottie stepped out into the cool summer night. It was colder than previous summers, but at least the rain had taken a respite. Overhead, in a cloudless sky, stars winked like diamonds, and all around her the quiet of a still evening cast a reprieve over her ears after the volume inside.
The door opened and Evander exited the ballroom on a wave of raucous music and humming conversation. It faded to a light background murmur as the door closed behind him.
He strode to where she stood in the shadows. ‘I won’t keep you, but I was not yet ready to let you go.’
‘Nor was I ready to be released.’ She rested her hands on the cold stone railing. ‘I wish it was possible for my every dance to be with you.’
‘It could be,’ he answered slowly. ‘If we were to wed.’
The suggestion hit her with a mix of excitement and fear. She didn’t respond, unable to summon any sort of proper thought as his words hung between them. It was one thing to see him again, to allow her walls to crack. But marriage. It was so large, so permanent.
Too much.
She had said yes to his proposal of marriage before and then he had wounded her deeply. It was impossible not to think of that now. Just as it was hard to push aside the rise of melancholy inside her.
Coming out this night had been a poor decision.
He cleared his throat. ‘It’s too soon.’
‘Yes.’
‘But not for me.’ He put his large, warm hand over hers. ‘I’ve wanted this for six years. I’ve wanted you that long.’
She swallowed and looked out into the garden. Her heart was pounding hard in her chest, its beat whooshing in her ears. Memory pressed on her once more, of an anniversary she would never forget—one that loomed in her mind, in her heart, and twisted through her, bringing agony.
‘I’m not ready,’ she whispered.
Evander studied her, his expression tender, patient. ‘I understand.’
But he didn’t. Not really. And he probably never would. Not when she couldn’t bring herself to be wholly honest with him about what had happened in his absence.
He reached for her then, his touch a gentle, loving caress down her cheek. ‘I would wait a lifetime for you, Lottie.’
She wanted to say she didn’t need a lifetime, to laugh it off and kiss him. But she wasn’t at all sure when she would be ready. If she would be ready.
She truly wished to give him a second chance, but she needed to move slowly, day by day, and not with any immediate promise of a future together.
But, after everything they had been through, was it even possible to open her heart completely again?
* * *
Evander eased away from Lottie. Not only to offer a respectable distance between them, should someone else escape to the terrace, but also to allow her the space she needed.
Her hair was styled simply—it was something he’d noticed earlier, as well as the delicate necklace at her throat, that made his eyes wander towards the graceful line of her neck rather than to the jewellery. She always had been most beautiful to him when she was simply adorned.
Though they had spent more time together in this season than the previous two years, he sensed in her a nervousness, like a skittish deer teetering on the edge of bolting. The anxiety which had all but disappeared these last few days, suddenly resurfaced at the mere mention of marriage.
While disappointing, it did not mean she would never be ready. He had hurt her—he knew that. He knew that and he hated it. But she could not seem to move past what she had become in life.
A courtesan.
It had changed her in some ways. She was sure of herself, more flirtatious, confident. But this new woman made Evander less certain—as if one wrong word or action might make her run from him for ever. As if she was always holding something back from him.
This was the woman she had become—what she had salvaged from the ashes of his betrayal, rising with armour intact.
‘We should return before we’re missed,’ he said.
She glanced back towards the doors and he saw a flicker of trepidation.
‘I can go first if you’d rather,’ he offered.
She shook her head. ‘I’d prefer not to give them fodder for gossip if I’m gone too long.’
Though she smiled when she said it, he knew that despite her resolve she truly was worried about the backlash of opinion.
‘However, I do appreciate your consideration.’ She rose up on her toes and pressed her mouth to his in a quick kiss.
As his lips still tingled with the warmth of her affection she strode towards the door and disappeared inside. He passed the next several minutes thinking of her, staring out at the darkened garden with memories of her heavy on his mind. Those from the past and those in the present. And, if he was being entirely honest, he hoped for some more in the future.
Once a sufficient amount of time had elapsed after her departure, he followed her into the ballroom. The light and sound were a veritable assault after the cool quiet of the night outside. His gaze swept the area, seeking out the delicate lavender gown.
He almost missed her on the first pass, given the bulk of Lord Devonington’s body blocking her. Clearly she had not made it farther than a dozen steps into the ballroom before being detained in conversation. Which meant they had been speaking together for some time.
He ought to leave her to her privacy. Except that Lord Devonington was a foul sort—one who said what was on his mind. And that was seldom a good thing.
Evander edged closer, using the crowd to mask his actions, in an attempt to get within earshot. Unfortunately the Earl was speaking so quietly Evander was practically behind the man before he could make out what was being said.
‘...it’s why I offered to become your protector before,’ Lord Devonington said in a low voi
ce.
Evander’s blood went cold.
Good God. Had Lottie been Devonington’s mistress in the past?
‘I’ve declined you twice in the past and I am doing so again now,’ Lottie replied firmly. ‘Good evening, Lord Devonington.’
‘I have not finished speaking with you,’ the Earl hissed. ‘I’m willing to pay good money for your favours—’
Evander flew into action, grabbing Devonington by the shoulder, spinning the man round and slamming his fist into that fleshy jaw.
But that wasn’t enough.
He grabbed the Earl as the man blinked in surprise, too stunned by the suddenness of the attack even to put up his arms to block his face. Evander hit him again, smashing his fist into the cur’s face with a force so hard pain shot through his fingers and up his arm.
Devonington fell back as blood spurted from his nose. He held his dimpled hands to his face, eyes wide. Somewhere nearby a woman screamed.
Perhaps that was what recalled Evander to his senses. Or perhaps it was the heavy way Devonington sat back, the floor around him spattered with blood.
Lottie.
Evander caught her horrified expression and immediately went to her.
‘Lottie.’ He said her name softly.
She didn’t move. And then her gloved hand wrapped around his, her touch like a caress, as concern showed in her eyes. ‘Are you hurt?’
He shook his head rather than lie. His hand hurt something fierce, but she didn’t need to know that. ‘Come, I’ll see you to your carriage.’
She nodded and allowed him to lead her from the ballroom as every set of eyes remained fixed on them.
The night had a chill to it he hadn’t noticed when they were outside previously. Lottie seemed to be suddenly aware of it as well, for she shivered. He removed his jacket and placed it over her shoulders.
‘I heard what he said to you,’ Evander said softly.
Lottie closed her eyes slowly. ‘I wish you hadn’t. It’s humiliating, this life I have lived. And everyone knows it.’
How to Wed a Courtesan--An entertaining Regency romance Page 12