“You wish to dine with me?” he said, genuinely surprised, because they had not taken any meals together other than the occasional luncheon or tea when they had guests.
“If you do not mind. Perhaps we could talk some more about what sort of gentleman I might find suitable or ways I can help you to stall my father’s plans.”
He bit his bottom lip. Did she want to spend time with him just to guide him toward ways to stop her father—or was there more to it? Perhaps both. He couldn’t be sure, but he liked the idea of dining with her. Yet, on the other hand, he knew he had already made plans.
“Perhaps another day. I agreed to meet Julian at the club tonight.”
Her face fell—or at least, it looked as though it did.
“Do not fret. I shall not let your father get his hands on your funds before you find a husband. You are safe with me.”
You are safe with me.
Why had he said that? It had come out as something so … intimate. Much more than he had wanted it to. He looked at her, hoping perhaps she had missed the more-than-tender tone he had used. But she hadn’t.
She looked at him, her lips slightly pursed, the usual scorn gone. She looked as she had yesterday when he had almost kissed her. He had almost kissed her. He had wanted to.
He hadn’t wanted to think about it, and then Julian had brought up the matter earlier. He had pushed it out of his mind, but it was true. That one split second when he had looked into her eyes, he had had a burning desire to taste her lips. To hold her. To keep her safe.
And that same sensation had crept back into him the moment he had said that he was going to keep her safe.
But he should’ve said that he was going to keep her money safe.
What was happening to him?
He shook his head.
“I must go. I beg your pardon. But… let us dine together tomorrow?”
“I cannot,” she said, her tone a little colder than before. “I am to see my… I am to see Aunt Eugenia and my sisters tomorrow.”
“I see,” he said. “Another time.”
“Another time,” she replied, and then departed.
And somehow, it felt different from before. Somehow, the parting wasn’t sweet. It wasn’t a relief.
It was bothersome.
He could not deny that he would have liked to have spent more time with her, much more time.
CHAPTER 15
Evelyn hurried upstairs, her boots clacking against the marble floor until the sound was swallowed by the thick carpet lining the second-floor landing. Why had she asked to dine with him? It had been foolish—so foolish. She’d known it the moment the words left her mouth. And then, for him to reject her? The humiliation. The utter humiliation.
It was that wretched moment in the music room the night before—that fleeting second when she thought he might actually kiss her—that had clouded her judgment. She knew it. For one moment, brief and breathless, she had believed he might lean in. And worse still, she hadn’t been certain she would dislike it. No, the truth, which she loathed to admit, was that she had longed for it.
Not for long. Just a second. But in that unguarded, foolish flicker of time, she had wondered—what would it feel like to have his lips against hers?
“What a cake I made of myself,” she muttered bitterly.
And now her father was back in the equation.
Of course, she had known it wouldn’t last. He had already threatened to return to London, to ‘speak with her directly.’ She had no doubt what that meant. He would come to pressure, wheedle, and bargain—perhaps even command her—until he found a way to wrest her funds from her. And Nathaniel, infuriating as he was, had been right. Without a husband, she had no protection. Her money was legally her father’s to control.
The only thing preventing that from happening now was Nathaniel himself, holding off her father’s attempts through legal delays and excuses.
“And now I must be grateful to him for that?” she snapped aloud, tossing her gloves onto her dressing table. “Why didn’t I think this through before?”
