“Was it all that you imagined?” he asked as he shoved open the door.
“I thought it rather dull and plain, actually. I don’t know why I expected more excitement.”
She walked down the steps to the carriage waiting in the mews for them. A footman opened the door. Rafe handed her up, but didn’t follow her inside.
“The driver will see you home safely,” he said.
“You’re not coming?” She wondered why she was disappointed.
“I have some things to which I must attend.”
“When will you return to the residence?”
“I’m not sure.”
After shutting the door, he walked to the steps and stood there, watching the carriage, watching her. She could see him clearly through the window.
The carriage rocked and was off. It turned and she lost sight of Rafe. She didn’t know if she’d ever seen anyone who looked so alone.
Chapter 12
The clock on the mantel was veering toward eleven when she awoke. She never slept in this late. She supposed that was what happened when one entertained gentlemen at all hours of the night.
She climbed out of bed, rang for her maid, walked to the window, and drew back the draperies, not surprised to discover it was a dreary overcast day. Although it hardly matched her mood. One of these nights he would come to her and they would do more than talk. It was the terms to which she’d agreed. She would honor them. She might not have much left to her but she had her word.
The door opened and she glanced over her shoulder at her maid. The air in the room didn’t take on an energetic charge, seem to shrink in size, or become more alive with her entry.
“I shall want fresh linens on the bed today.”
Lila seemed surprised. “Yes, miss. We put on fresh linens every day.”
Of course they did.
Lila went to the wardrobe and retrieved the mourning dress in which Evelyn had arrived that fateful night. It seemed an eternity had passed. Suddenly Evelyn despised the thing.
“No, the newer one. I have an errand to run. I’ll want you to accompany me, and we’ll need three strapping footmen to come with us.”
“Yes, miss.”
“I shall want to meet with cook. I need to look over the menu for tonight’s dinner. I want it to be something special.”
The maid blinked, and Evelyn realized that she didn’t need to reveal her entire schedule to the girl, especially as she’d only just determined that she was taking the day and night in hand as much as possible.
It was early afternoon by the time she was in the carriage, heading toward her destination. It struck her that within the space of a sennight her life had changed immeasurably. She had never called for a carriage while at her father’s residence. She only went out when he accompanied her. She never instructed servants regarding her preferences on meals. She had never served as mistress of a household.
She’d learned something valuable about Rafe in the shadows of her room last night. He’d said that he didn’t give a bloody damn, but he did. Far more than he realized and was willing to admit, even to himself. If he didn’t care, he’d not take to task any men who hurt the women in his establishment, he wouldn’t have given her lessons on how to protect herself. While she had suspected from the first that he’d not hurt her physically, she was now certain of it.
What he might do with her heart, however, was another matter entirely. She feared that unlike him, she didn’t have the strength to keep it locked away. It was easily found and bruised. She had even allowed Geoffrey to cause her pain. He had never given her cause to think he cared for her, but she had never realized that he despised her. Her father’s unconditional adoration had allowed her to embrace the fantasy of being special. Geoffrey had most cruelly torn her whimsy into shreds.
The carriage turned down a drive and finally came to a stop in front of a residence that no longer looked as elegant or impressive to her as it once had. The carriage door opened, and a footman handed her down. Once the others were gathered around, she said, “When the door opens, you may have to shove your way in as I’ve been told that entry is barred to me. But I want to enter.”
She marched up the path, up the steps, and tried the door. To her immense surprise, it opened. Obviously they had expected her to never return. She swept inside, with her entourage on her heels. Manson came scurrying out of one of the hallways. His eyes widened, his mouth gaped before he got control of himself. He rushed forward.
“I’m sorry, miss, but—”
One of her footmen blocked him. She turned for the stairs and headed up them. “I won’t be long, Manson. I just need a few things. Feel free to alert his lordship that I’m here.”
At the landing, she turned into the corridor that branched into the east wing and went to the room located at the corner. Her bedchamber. Placing her hand on the knob, she hesitated a moment before shoving open the door. She strode in with purpose and staggered to a stop. The vanity, the bedside tables, the dresser—they were all bare of her things. The few dolls that remained after her smashing spree were nowhere to be seen. She walked quickly to the armoire. It was empty. The lush purple gown that she had purchased in hopes of wearing to a ball, the one Geoffrey had insisted she don on the most humiliating night of her life, was gone.
