“Well,” he said with a smile, “the old drawing room in the dower house is rather musty. I had a mind to send somebody over there and rip up the tapestry.” He winked at her, but she was not in the mood for jesting.
“I shall pack my belongings this evening,” she said, and got up. “Good day, Your Grace,” she said, and walked away, aware that she had used his title for the first time.
“Evelyn,” he called after her, and when she looked over her shoulder, he looked uncertain—something that was quite unusual for him.
“Yes?” she replied.
His tongue ran over his lips, leaving a shimmering gleam.
“Nothing,” he said. “Let me know if there’s anything you need at your new house.”
“I shall,” she said and walked away, not wanting him to see the tears that sprang to her eyes.
“He’s discarding me like an unused broom,” she complained later that afternoon as she and her aunt Eugenia sat on a bench in Hyde Park, sharing candied orange peels.
“Surely it does not seem as dire as all that,” Eugenia said. “An old broom?”
“A lame horse, then. Something unwanted,” Evelyn complained and shook her head. “Banishing me to the dower house.”
“But that is what you wanted. Residency in the dower house.”
“Yes, but not like this. I wanted it to be mine permanently. Not a place to stay while he seeks to marry me off to the first?—”
“Do not say ‘highest bidder,’” Eugenia said. “It is not fair to talk about him that way. He has protected you and your sisters from your father’s wrath.”
It was true. She could not fault him for that. But why couldn’t he just… She didn’t even know how to finish that thought.
“Aunt Eugenia, the truth is, I thought that he cared for me. He almost kissed me, or so I thought.”
“Is that so?” Eugenia said with a bright, beaming smile. “That is wonderful!”
“No,” Evelyn said, shaking her head. “It is not wonderful. Because he did not, in fact, kiss me. And it wasn’t just once—it was twice that I thought he might kiss me. I am like one of those unwanted pieces of fruit left behind in the bowl, shriveling away to become a raisin or a prune.”
Eugenia chuckled at this. “A wrinkly prune? I hardly think so. You are beautiful. Have you considered talking to him about this?”
“I cannot very well walk up to the man and demand to know if he loves me or not.”
“Why not?” Eugenia said. “I walked up to your uncle, and I told him in no uncertain terms that if he was not interested, then he had to tell me there and then so I could find myself another suitor. Youth and beauty do not last forever.”
“Yes, but if he says no, I’ll be mortified.”
“And if he says yes, you will be married. You will be a duchess.”
Evelyn pursed her lips. “I already am a duchess. I do wish that those people who like to talk about me as the ‘one-day bride’ or whatever it is they have come to call me now would remember that.”
“There is the spirit, my dear. I say talk to him. And if he rejects you, then you shall hold your head high and move on to a different gentleman.”
Evelyn picked up a piece of sweet peel, bit into the rind, and worked it with her teeth, chewing as though it had somehow offended her.
“He has had his chances—more than one. We practically live together. No, I will not make a fool of myself. If he does not wish to tell me how he feels, even though he knows that my father is determined to take everything that is mine, then I shall not beg. Instead, I shall…” She exhaled and dropped back against the bench. “Instead, I shall have to find myself a husband I can tolerate.”
“Very well,” her aunt said. “So your sisters and I should stop spreading rumors about you to scare away potential?—”
“Yes, please,” she said. “No. Continue to scare the horrid ones away. Those who are old enough to be my grandfather, and the stingy ones. And the unkind ones. The ugly ones.”
Aunt Eugenia raised her hand. “If you continue, there shall be no gentleman left for us tonotscare away.”
“Still scaring gentlemen away, I hear?” A deep voice came from behind her, and she leaped up and spun around, dropping the bag of lemon peels onto the ground.
