“Why don’t you?” she asked, her voice softer. “Why not take your revenge? You ought to. I will help you. I will tell everybody what?—”
“No,” he said. “I would rather not relive my shame.”
“It is not your shame. It is his. He mistreated you when you were a child. He would deserve it. He deserves that everybody knows what he is.”
“Many do,” he said. “Why do you think he has to—why do you think he has to travel to the Continent for business? Because many in England know what he is like. His boyhood pranks and actions do not translate well into adulthood, and he has never changed. He is the same nasty little weasel he has always been. But people are wiser as they grow older. Many of his former friends no longer want to associate with him, and even thosewho still do will change their minds if they’re reminded of our shared past.”
She wet her lips, and then her eyes widened. “Do you think he sought me out because of our connection?”
“Of course,” he said. “I think—” He was snorting. “Of course he did. What other reason could there be?” The moment he said that, he knew the words had come out wrong.
“I didn’t mean that. I meant…”
“I know what you meant,” she said, but her tone had grown colder. “The only reason he could have wanted to be with me was to make you miserable because I am certain that he would’ve gladly thrown away his entire future just to get one last stab at you. But why? How would his marrying me harm you?”
Oh, it was a double-sided question. He knew that. What did she want him to say? That it would’ve hurt him because he cared for her? Should he just tell her? He couldn’t be certain.
“He will exploit any connection between you and me, no matter how inconsequential it might be,” he said, taking a step back. He had exposed himself too much. He had let her see his weakness. All this time, he had been so careful to present himself as strong, capable, and respected. And he was all these things now—he knew it. He would never let anybody see the torment he had undergone at the hands of Halston. He had sworn it. He would use every bit of his newfound influence to ensure he never felt weak again. And yet something in her—something in the wayshe looked at him—had made him open up his deepest secrets. He had let her see the weak part of him he had sought to keep hidden forever.
It wasn’t going to do any good. Even if she had any feelings for him whatsoever that were rooted in anything genuine, they would surely be evaporating now. Who wanted a weak link for a husband? No—he had to push her away. But he also couldn’t let her be with this man, because he would exploit her and mistreat her—that he knew.
“He is a rake. It is well known. He will use you. He will keep a carte blanche everywhere he goes. He will make you miserable.”
She only nodded.
“Well, then I thank you for shedding light on his true personality, and I will take heed not to let him exploit the thin thread of connection you and I share,” she said. Then she turned and walked away. He had hurt her. He hadn’t meant to, but he had.
Why was he so bad with his words? She walked past him, and as she did, her shoulder ran into his. Would this be the last time they touched in any way?
“Excuse me,” she said.
“You are excused,” he replied.
At the top of the stairs, she turned again. “Well, since you do not want me to court Halston, does that mean you will find me somebody else? Somebody not dreadful?”
“I will host a ball, as I said. I will invite anyone—anyone I can think of. I told you already.”
“Yes, you said that. But you say things sometimes.” She shrugged. “And then they turn out… the words turn out to be meaningless.”
He opened his mouth, wanting to reply—to defend himself—but he didn’t have the words anymore. It was as though they were all used up. As if every single word he was allocated for this day had been wasted on telling her about his childhood. And now as she stood there and looked at him in that challenging way of hers that always made him feel a prickle go up and down his arms, he had nothing left to say—and perhaps that was for the best. He had to find her a husband, and quickly. He had to get her out of his house and out of his life.
Now more than ever.
CHAPTER 23
“You look wonderful,” Eugenia said as she cupped Evelyn’s cheeks later that week. “That lavender color suits you so well.”
Evelyn scowled. “I cannot wait to wear brighter colors again. Even white. I have tired of this constant lavender—at least it’s not navy.”
She had only worn black in the immediate days following her husband’s death and funeral. She’d switched to navy shortly after, though that had lasted mere days. For the last few weeks, she had worn gowns in various shades of lavender. It looked softer. Not quite so dour, but also not disrespectful to the dead.
Still, she longed to wear her Pomona green muslin, her evening primrose-colored gown—even that pale squash-colored one she’d always thought hideous now looked oddly enticing every time she looked into her armoire.
Well, when she had looked into it. Her current armoire, in the dower house, sat mostly empty. She had only brought a few things with her since Nathaniel told her to move into the house she had fought so hard for. Now that she was in it, it felt oddly unfamiliar.
Lady Appleton’s belongings were still everywhere because she hadn’t officially given them up. She would be gone for a very long time—but not forever. Then again, Evelyn likely wouldn’t be there forever either. Not if Nathaniel had his way.
No, he would find her a husband—and he would do it posthaste. He had made that quite clear.
