‘Do you, now?’ Kentworth nodded, as though he’d proven a point. ‘The man loves you more than any man has ever loved a woman. I thought you ought to know the extent of it.’
Lottie blinked at him, uncertain what to say. ‘Thank you,’ she said at last.
He beamed a smile at her. ‘Lady Westix, my dear, you are most welcome.’
With that, he staggered off, with the clear assumption he truly had done some good that night.
She remained where she was for a long moment, her mind spinning over what she had learned.
Evander and his mother had suffered because of their marriage.
They had accepted her, and loved her, and paid a hefty price.
Her throat felt too thick, the room too hot and suffocating.
How was it that even here, in a sea of friends, she still felt as though she was drowning?
Chapter Twenty-Six
Something was amiss. Evander had noted it in the way the light had dimmed in Lottie’s eyes the second half of the ball. Yes, she still smiled and laughed when she was supposed to, but there was a flatness to her joy, implying that it was false.
He’d tried to bring it up while they were still at Somersville Place, but she’d brushed him off. Knowing it was pointless to ask in the carriage on the way home, he’d held his tongue until now, when they were finally alone in the bedchamber they shared.
Once the door was closed, the smile fell from her lips, replaced with a wounded expression.
‘Was it Lord Finsby?’ Evander demanded.
After all, she had been perfectly fine while dancing with Evander. It wasn’t until they came together to dance a second time that he’d realised she was upset. During the space that had elapsed between the sets he had seen her speaking to the older Earl.
Though the man had kept his distance, Evander had noticed Finsby and Lottie had spoken at length. And, while Evander had tried not to feel anything, he hadn’t been able to help the stab of hurt at their apparent joy at seeing one another.
‘Lord Finsby?’ She tilted her head with a frown.
That terrible ache throbbed in his chest once more. ‘I know he was your lover.’
‘He was my protector. Not my lover.’ Now it was she who appeared wounded. ‘You knew this was a possibility when we wed. I told you—’
‘Forgive me.’ Evander ran a hand through his hair. ‘I... I didn’t expect to feel so...’ He sighed. ‘Jealous.’
She came to him, her feet silent on the thick carpet of his bedroom. ‘Jealous?’ She shook her head. ‘No protector I’ve ever had possessed even a modicum of what you have.’ She pulled off her long, white satin gloves, gracefully plucking one finger at a time. ‘Lord Finsby was a lonely widower who wanted companionship—’
Evander put his hands up and backed away, not wanting to hear any details, uncertain if he could bear it. ‘You needn’t say more.’
‘I won’t give you all the details of all my protectors, Evander, but I’d like you to listen to this one.’ She took his hands in hers and lowered them. ‘Lord Finsby wanted someone he didn’t have to explain the background of his story to—someone he spoke to often enough that they would already know. He was not my lover, but over time he did become my friend. That was all that ever existed between us.’
‘You spoke with him for a while.’ Evander said the words before he could stop himself and wished he could snatch them back, hating how jealous he sounded.
Lottie did not appear upset. Instead, she smiled. ‘He was telling me of his recent marriage to a woman he has lost his heart to and congratulating me on ours.’
‘Then what is it that’s upset you so?’
Her smile wilted. ‘Lord Kentworth approached me tonight.’ Suddenly she seemed to deflate, the energy going out of her. She sagged down onto a chair before the hearth. ‘He meant well...in the way that Kentworth does.’
Evander took the chair opposite her, his body tense. ‘What did he say?’
The fire popped and snapped. Lottie sighed, reaching for her hair and slowly beginning to slide free the pins. A tendril of black hair uncoiled from where it had been secured in an artful curl over her brow.
‘The truth.’
‘What truth?’
Lottie lowered her hands, with her hair still mostly locked in the intricate arrangement, and stared down at the pins gathered in her palms. ‘About your mining investment. And about how your mother’s friends have treated her.’
Anger coursed through Evander like molten lava. Damn Kentworth. Evander had confessed that information in confidentiality, not for it to be immediately regurgitated to the very woman he was trying to keep it from.
‘That drunken dolt,’ Evander growled.
‘I think he thought...’ A tear fell from Lottie’s eye. ‘I think he thought he was doing me a favour, by offering me proof of how very much you love me. So much that you would suffer such treatment.’ She choked in a sob and her hands came up to her face, the pins scattering over the floor.
Evander put a hand on her shoulder and offered her his handkerchief. She looked up at him, her eyes wet with tears, and accepted it.
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ he asked.
‘I knew it would upset you.’
His chest tightened—with rage for how others made her feel, with hurt that he had caused her such anguish, with the realisation of the predicament they were in.
Damn Kentworth.
‘I hate that you are treated so because of me.’ She dabbed her eyes. ‘And I have no way to fix it.’
‘Lottie, I have a confession to make.’ He crouched down in front of her.
She watched him, her expression hesitant and filled with such hurt he felt it viscerally in his soul.
‘I don’t care what others think of me or who doesn’t want to do business with me.’ He smirked. ‘That is not the only investment opportunity at my fingertips. There are plenty of people willing to do business with me and my money.’
‘Your mother,’ she said miserably.
‘Did you see my mother tonight?’ He lifted his brows.
Lottie shook her head and one of her partially pinned curls cascaded downward. Before she could reach for the pin, Evander got to his feet and slid it free. The lock of hair glided from its restraint and tumbled over her shoulder.
‘The Dowager Countess of Dalton was at her side, along with her true friends.’ He gently liberated one pin after another. ‘I dare say with so many widows in one small cluster we’ve a good deal to worry after. One never knows what schemes may be afoot with those ladies.’
Lottie offered a weak smile as several more curls were released from her coiffure.
‘Losing a false friend is no loss at all,’ Evander said. ‘My mother said that to my father when the adventure club fell apart. It stuck with me.’
‘Perhaps she feels differently now that it’s happened to her,’ Lottie said softly.
Evander ran his fingers through Lottie’s thick, dark hair, confirming that he had removed all the pins. ‘Perhaps you ought to speak with her about it, as you have me.’
Lottie looked up at him, her lovely glossy hair falling around her shoulders like black silk. God, she was so beautiful it almost hurt him to gaze upon her.
‘I don’t want you to regret...’ She twisted her fingers together.
He put his hands over hers to stop the nervous action. ‘You never need worry after that. The King himself could give me the cut direct and I would still not regret having married you.’
‘The King?’ Lottie gave a little laugh at that. ‘Truly?’
He drew her hands higher, encouraging her to her feet. ‘Truly.’ His arms came around her in an embrace. ‘I swear on my life, Lottie, I will never regret loving you.’
He lifted her chin with his fingertips and gently kissed her.
Later that night, however, as he lay in bed with her sleeping on his chest, their predicament rolled about in his head with more insistence than he liked.
Whether Huntly Manor was ready or not, he would have their trunks packed for departure on the morrow. While a few days in the country wouldn’t fix their situation, a much-needed break would do Lottie a world of good.
* * *
Lottie found Evander at breakfast already the following morning, with a broadsheet stretched out in his hands. Upon her entrance he lowered it, and smiled at her in the familiar way that set her heart fluttering.
‘What would you say if we left for Huntly Manor today?’ He set the newspaper on the table in a crinkle of thin paper.
A footman approached and held out a seat for her. Lottie sank into the chair and nodded her thanks at the young man. ‘Have you received word that it’s ready?’
‘How can it not be ready?’ he asked. ‘They’ve had nearly a fortnight, which is plenty of time.’ His hand reached across the table and took hers. ‘Being at the ball last night made me realise how much I long for some time alone with my wife. In the place where we fell in love.’
Heat blossomed over her cheeks. ‘I confess, it would be nice.’ And indeed it would—to be away from the ton, from judgement and rumour and gossip. At least for a little while.
‘We don’t need the entire house,’ Evander continued. ‘Just a warm fire for chilly evenings. Coverlets and sheets on a bed that’s had the mattress turned. How does that take a fortnight?’
She hesitated, knowing how displeased Sarah would be if everything wasn’t in proper order. Let alone how Andrews might take their precipitous arrival.
‘Imagine it, Lottie,’ Evander said wistfully. ‘Oxfordshire. Binsey. To be back in the village, to see the old vicarage. To walk our path.’
She couldn’t stop her mind from wandering back, and her heart ached for its familiarity with a sudden pang.
‘Very well,’ she conceded. ‘When shall we leave?’
‘In the time it takes for our trunks to be packed for us.’ Evander sat forward in his chair and kissed her cheek. Before all the servants.
Lottie flushed with pleasure and noticed one of the maids hid a smile.
‘Good morning.’ The Dowager Countess entered the room as Evander pulled away.
He regarded his mother. ‘Did you rest well, Mother?’
‘Heavens, too well.’ She made her way to a chair as the footman quickly pulled it out for her. ‘I slept later than usual. I fear the ball drained me of all my energy.’ She smiled fondly at Evander and Lottie. ‘Such revelries are better left for youth, I think.’
She poured a cup of tea and added two lumps of sugar, selecting the largest from the bowl with a pair of silver sugar tongs.
‘It would appear,’ Evander said gently, ‘that Lottie has heard of your parting with Lady Stetton.’
Evander’s mother rolled her eyes in a most un-countess-like manner. ‘That wretched woman.’
Lottie watched her mother-in-law to ensure she wasn’t simply posturing for her sake. ‘I thought you were friends.’
‘We were well-acquainted,’ the Dowager Countess conceded. ‘Truth be told, I never did enjoy her company overmuch. She always was a waspish woman—very critical of others and with a ready opinion for every matter.’
Evander raised his brows at Lottie, as though to say, See there? It’s as I told you. He lifted his paper. ‘I’ll see to the arrangements for our departure to Huntly Manor.’
He bent to Lottie and gave her a kiss on the cheek before departing, leaving her alone with his mother.
Lottie fiddled with her toast, her appetite gone. ‘I don’t want you losing friends on my account.’
‘Losing a false friend is no loss at all.’ The Dowager Countess set her gaze on Lottie, her eyes sharp despite her otherwise frail appearance. ‘I have many friends. I needn’t worry about those who aren’t worth my time. Anyone who finds fault with you has no room in my life.’ She lifted her teacup. ‘Frankly, I am too old to care.’
She took a prim sip of tea as Lottie gave her a grateful smile.
Her mother-in-law waved off her thanks. ‘So, what is this I hear that you are leaving for Huntly Manor today?’
‘I believe they are nearly done with the preparations for our arrival.’ Lottie pursed her lips. ‘Or at least Evander is confident they are.’
‘They’ll make do.’ The Dowager Countess smiled. ‘You’ll have a grand time.’
Lottie reached for her toast, her appetite restored. ‘I’m certain we will.’
Packing for the fortnight-long trip was done quickly, and by ten that morning Lottie and Evander were ready to depart. They sat on the same side of the bench in the carriage on the way to Oxfordshire, and chatted about Lottie’s memories from Binsey and all the things she wanted to explore while they were there.
The journey took five hours before the carriage turned down the long road leading to the massive manor. Trees lined either side of the drive, framing the large white front of Huntly Manor, which featured a fountain and a cascade of steps leading up to the large wooden doors.
Lottie recalled seeing the exquisite home as a girl and imagining that a princess lived inside. Never had she considered that one day she might actually be the princess.
Together, they made their way up the steps, expecting the door to open quickly as Andrews had been notified of their arrival by the groom who had ridden ahead.
It remained closed.
How curious.
‘It is a large house,’ Lottie said, by way of plausible explanation.
‘It is.’ Evander put his arm around her as they waited.
Still the door remained closed.
After a long moment, Evander rapped on the brass knocker. No one answered. He lifted his brow, put his hand on the knob and opened the door.
What greeted them was pure chaos.
Servants ran about this way and that, the trunks that had been sent ahead lay in a heap, and orders were being shouted from the stairs.
Evander looked at Lottie, incredulous, and she began to laugh.
‘Don’t you be laughing now, lovey, when you’ve surprised us like this.’ Sarah raced down the stairs, her silver-streaked hair coming out of its normally neat chignon. She paused at the bottom, her hand resting on the banister as she huffed for breath. ‘We told you we needed only two more days. We’ve been taking the place apart in order to put it back together. I had suggested we do that after your visit, but someone insisted it be done straight away.’
‘If it’s worth doing, it’s worth doing correctly.’ Andrews appeared, casting Sarah a sideways glance. ‘Do forgive me, my lady, as you can see, we were a bit surprised.’
Lottie shook her head. ‘You needn’t worry at all. We were simply so eager to come we were not overly concerned about the reception we might receive. Though admittedly we had not imagined this.’ She laughed again.
Poor Andrews flushed red under his collar.
‘I’m sure it will look perfect when it’s complete.’ Evander patted Andrews on the shoulder.
The old butler straightened stiffly. ‘Indeed, my lord.’
‘We could go to the village for a spell,’ Lottie suggested.
Evander nodded and put his arm around her. ‘It’s been ages since we’ve visited.’
‘Wonderful,’ Sarah said, in an exaggeratedly bright voice.
A maid ran down the stairs and stopped short when she saw Sarah, then looked to Evander and Lottie. She gave a little squeak of surprise and darted in the opposite direction.
Andrews tugged at his collar and indicated the door. ‘It is a lovely day for a jaunt to the village.’
Lottie and Evander allowed themselves to be ushered out of their own home.
‘Well,’ Lottie said on an exhale. ‘It appears we w
ill have an excursion to Binsey.’
‘There is no one I’d rather while away the day with than you, my love.’ Evander put his arm around her. ‘This is why we’re here. To simply enjoy our time together without obligation. This is the first day of our wedding trip and I mean for us to enjoy it.’
He led her to the carriage and together they climbed in. Lottie’s heart racing in anticipation of seeing the place that had been her home for so many years.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
It had been six years since Evander had last been in Binsey. The village was larger than he recalled, no doubt having grown over the years. Despite the addition of shops along its main streets and alleys, it still appeared charmingly quaint.
Although it was not as familiar to him as it was to Lottie, it became so with each of her exclamations on what had changed or what new building had been erected. The eagerness with which she explored the village while on his arm made their early arrival entirely worthwhile. Especially when compared to how she had appeared the prior evening, after Kentworth’s damn prattling.
The image of the servants running about like mad, however, was another boon. A chuckle tickled up his throat at the memory.
‘What is it?’ Lottie asked.
‘I’m thinking of the servants at Huntly Manor.’
He laughed again, and this time Lottie joined him.
‘Oh, we did give them a surprise, did we not? Sarah, I know, didn’t mind, but I confess I did feel rather horrid for poor Andrews. Perhaps...’
Evander lifted a brow at his wife as she considered something. ‘What is it?’
‘Perhaps we should purchase them some cakes. In appreciation for their hard work.’ She gave a playful grimace. ‘And for descending upon them with such little notice.’
‘A bribe?’
‘Not a bribe. A thank-you.’ Lottie tilted her head with a grudging look. ‘Well, perhaps a bit of a bribe for their forgiveness.’
‘Of course we can bring them some cakes.’ He rubbed the back of her hand where it rested in the crook of his elbow. ‘Your consideration is most admirable.’
How to Wed a Courtesan--An entertaining Regency romance Page 22