“I don’t know what you’re talking about, and it’s not a lie.It doesn’t matter.If this entire arrangement is a ploy to get back at your father for stealing the love of your life,” she said and lifted a shoulder, pleased with the steadiness of her voice, “that’s nothing I need to concern myself with.”
“That’s your conclusion, then, that this is a plot to soothe my bruised pride?” The line of his mouth was taut, and she could see he was at the very brink of his patience. She pushed him again.
“I couldn’t say, Lord Darnick. I don’t know very much about you.” She was being reckless now. “I hope your efforts are well received by your lady.”
She was tired of this day, of feeling let down by Evan but still wanting him. She was tired of worrying about things she could not control.
Evan closed the distance between them. When he reached for her, she moved out of the way, scared that if she fell into his arms she’d fall apart.
“I’m sorry,” he said, pulling her to him. “I’m sorry I didn’t mention the ball. I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you about Charlotte.” He whispered the words so softly against her temple, like one did to a child that needed calming.
“Do you love her?” she asked, despite knowing she didn’t want to hear the answer. He made a pained sound in response, and she felt him shake his head against hers.
“I don’t think I ever loved her, not really. I don’t think I knew what love was. I’m sorry,” he repeated, holding her tight, and she felt tremors coursing through him too. She’d suspected she was half in love with him the moment he slid that ring on her finger. But this, hearing,feelingEvan hold himself accountable only served to confirm it.
“You don’t need to apologize,” she demurred, gulping down tears as she tightened her arms on his back.
“I do,” he whispered into her hair, as he rocked her like she was a child.
It made no sense. Her friends embraced her all the time; she held Clarita constantly. Then why did it feel like this was the first time she’d been comforted in years? Why did this man’s touch manage to quench the parched places in her that nothing ever seemed to allay?
After a moment he lowered one of his arms, and she kept her face hidden in his chest as he fumbled with something in his pocket. Then he took her hand and wordlessly slid the ring onto her finger.
“Will you wear this again?” She didn’t have the energy to deny him. “And I’d like for us to go to the Braeburn for a few days, even if we don’t have family. Please.”
She could float away but for the grounding force of his touch. But he would not be there to hold her up forever. Everything about this man was ephemeral. Her survival depended on never forgetting that truth.
“All right.” It wasn’t that she didn’t want to go; it was that she wanted it too much. Pretending things with him were real would only hurt more once he was gone.
Seventeen
“Your hair looks lovely, my lady,” exclaimed Mrs. Crawford, who was assisting Luz ready for dinner since she’d not brought a lady’s maid.
Lady Darnick. That was who she was now.
In the end, they had been married at a clerk’s office merely steps from the Montrose railway station, travel-worn and in the clothes they’d had on since the day before. Luz, who did not take to the constant vibrations of British trains, had walked somewhat unsteadily the few hundred yards to the clerk’s office from the platform. So tired she could’ve fallen where she stood, with Evan rumpled and brooding by her side. The entire affair had been exactly the cursory, slapdash fracas one would expect when two people were marrying strictly for convenience.
Evan heeded her request to marry without friends or family present, and so they’d parted ways with the rest of their travel companions before arriving at their destination, the railway stop for Braeburn Hall. Murdoch had remained in London, and at Carlisle Beatrice had boarded a train to Dumfries for a short stay at Gerard’s family country house with Clarita, Amaranta, Adalyn and the rest of her brood in tow.
Luz had begun to regret her request before they’d even descended from the train.
They had not been completely on their own at the ceremony—if one could call it that. Mr. and Mrs. Crawford, the married couple who served as butler and housekeeper at Braeburn Hall, had been waiting for them at the Montrose station when they arrived. The two received them with a basket of refreshments Luz’s nausea didn’t allow her to eat and a posy of heather and ivory tea roses she held on to for dear life for the few minutes it took for the clerk to join her and Evan in matrimony. Evan, whom she’d barely uttered a dozen words to since Calais, had been very serious as he recited his vows.
And after, the two of them made their way to Braeburn Hall in a cabriolet which her new husband drove himself. The day had been sunny, and from her perch she’d been able to see the landscape as they approached Evan’s estate. The place was enchanting. The house was more like a twenty-bedroom castle done in the Scottish baronial style. The freestone structure was surrounded by turrets and large bay windows. It was an impressive sight of gray and white flanked by a dense pine forest with the sea to the east of the home. Lovely in that stark, haunting way of this land. She could see a change in Evan the moment they entered his lands. Almost instantly his shoulders relaxed, his demeanor lightened somehow.
That was, until the moment they’d come back from a short walk on the grounds and a footman had run out of the house with an urgent correspondence. Evan had opened the blue envelope and had rushed inside the house, promising to see her at dinnertime. Not exactly the wedding day of her dreams. Not that she indulged in that kind of fantasy.
She’d believed him when he’d said that he didn’t love Charlotte. And yet, she could not make herself stop ruminating over it. Wondering if when he’d recited the vows for the clerk, he’d wished it wasCharlottebeside him and not Luz. There had been something bleak about him as he stood in front of her that afternoon. And he’d been so quiet after. Lost in his thoughts as he showed her around, as if only his body was there but his mind was a million miles away. Despite the truce they’d reached that night at the warehouse, Evan had respected her request and been the perfect gentleman on their journey. No stolen kisses, no flirtatious banter. He’d heeded her requests so faithfully she’d all but given up on any more intimacy. Which made the wedding gift he’d sent to her bedchamber all the more confusing.
She’d come to get dressed for dinner to find a large glossy white box containing lace and silk undergarments. Not just any undergarments—the man had acquired a contraption that appeared to be a corset which had been cut in half. Instead of extending from the breasts down to her hips, it sat right above her rib cage. It was lovely and far more comfortable than any corset she’d worn. It was done in pale pink satin and a creamy Sevillian lace along the hem, with a luxurious silky material for the lining. The best part of it was that she could breathe while wearing it. Despite herself, she smiled remembering the card she’d found in a box from Herminie Cadolle’s boutique.
This should reduce the suffocating devices forced upon all that beautiful and supple flesh. I’d ask that you think of me when you wear it, but I know how much you abhor undergarments.
-E
Evanston Sinclair was confounding.
“Shall we move on to the gown, my lady?” Mrs. Crawford softly pulled Luz out of her musings.
