“I do,” he replied.
“It has been too long,” she purred. “And yet, as sad as the circumstances of your return have been, I am glad for them. And how deliciously unexpected to find you in such surroundings. When I heard you had returned to town but did not come, I had begun to worry you’d taken up holy orders. Or worse, a wife.”
He smiled then—the smile that had undone countless hearts and unlaced even more stays. “I assure you, my lady, my interests remain decidedly earthly and I remain unattached.”
“You do? No duchess on the horizon? I thought I had heard…” He placed his fingers on her lips, silencing her.
What followed was a masterpiece of practiced seduction. He complimented the elegant arrangement of her curls, the exquisite cut of her gown, even the ridiculous little spaniel that trembled in her lap like an animated powder puff. She responded with gratifying enthusiasm, leaning closer until her perfume—something heavy and cloying with jasmine—filled his nostrils. Her gloved fingers found his knee, tracing patterns through the fine wool of his breeches with scandalous familiarity.
He had performed this dance a hundred times before. He knew every step, every gesture, every breathless word that would lead inevitably to a darkened carriage or a conveniently empty withdrawing room. The script was as familiar as his name.
Yet as Lady Hastings’ fingers crept higher and her voice dropped to a husky whisper, Nathaniel found himself… absent. Physically present but mentally miles away, as if viewing the scene throughthick glass. Her beautiful face began to blur at the edges, her melodious voice fading to meaningless sound.
Instead, unbidden and unwelcome, other images crowded his mind. Evelyn curled up in his library chair, her dark hair escaping its pins as she lost herself in some book. Evelyn rolling her eyes at his theatrics with exasperated affection. Evelyn in the gardens at dawn, fencing barefoot in the dew-wet grass, unaware anyone could see her due to the lateness of the hour and the seclusion of the back gardens. He smiled as he thought of it. She didn’t know he could see her from the top floor, practicing, perhaps in preparation for another battle.
His mind was full of Evelyn. Evelyn, furious and magnificent, her chin tilted in defiance as she delivered some perfectly reasonable observation that nevertheless turned his world sideways.
The realization struck him with the force of a physical blow. He felt nothing for the lovely creature beside him—nothing but a vague, distant appreciation for her undeniable beauty. Where once there would have been desire, anticipation, the delicious thrill of conquest, there was only… emptiness.
And filling that emptiness, like water rushing into a broken vessel, came the image of storm-gray eyes and a mouth that tasted of honey and defiance.
He stood abruptly, nearly overturning his chair in his haste. Lady Hastings blinked up at him in startled confusion, her carefully arranged seduction crumbling into bewilderment.
“Is something amiss, Your Grace?” she asked, her voice pitched higher with uncertainty.
“Yes,” he said, his voice rough with the force of his revelation. “Very much so.”
He turned on his heel and strode from the room, leaving behind whispered speculation and Julian’s knowing laughter. But he heard none of it over the thundering of his own heart and the terrible, wonderful truth that pursued him into the London night.
He was utterly, completely, and irrevocably ruined. Evelyn had ruined him. How had this happened and when? Exactly when had they crossed the threshold from enemies to whatever this was?
No, this could not be. She was nothing to him. Nothing but a burden.
But even as he thought it, he knew it was not true. She had become so much more. But how could he tell her? She despised him. After all, hadn’t she looked almost relieved when they’d been interrupted the night before? Yes, he was sure she had.
She wanted nothing from him but her freedom, and he was not going to make things more complicated by confessing feelings he was certain were not reciprocated.
He had to get this foolishness out of his mind and fast. There was so much he had to do now that he was a duke. He had to get the estate in order, make alliances in the House of Lords, and much more. What he didn’t need was to fall in love with the woman his uncle had married and left a widow in the space of a laughably short period.
The rumors already bubbled under the surface; he knew it from the way people looked at him sideways. They would only get worse. No, he had to get Evelyn out of his house—and the sooner, the better for all involved.
CHAPTER 17
Evelyn sat on the chaise, her legs tucked up beside her, and looked out through the window. It was a bright, beautiful day, with not a single cloud in sight. Yet, she felt gloomy. Her father had written again, demanding once more that Nathaniel turn over the funds that had been left to her by her late husband. He had told her he had written back again, saying things were tied up and it would take some time. But he did not know how much longer he could hold him off.
The more time passed, the more she understood that her plan had been foolish. She would never be able to keep the dower house and her funds. Her father would ruin everything. He would take everything, waste everything, and then force her into another marriage. And that would be that. That would be her life.
She sat up, pressing her head into her hands while hugging her legs.
“Are you unwell?” Nathaniel asked as he entered.
She looked up at him. “Unwell? You could say that. My father is seeking to take all that is mine and marry me off.”
He sat on the chaise across from her, crossing his legs.
“And I told you some time ago that you should marry. I have presented many gentlemen to you, and none seem to?—”
“Do I want to spend my life with these people? The rest of my life? I’m expected to have an heir with them. Excuse me if I want to be certain. Besides, the gentlemen you’ve been sending me?—”
