“Do you know Oxford well?” Evelyn asked, her throat tight.
She knew she ought to make her excuses and head back into the shop, for she did not want to speak to the baron, or ‘Miles’ as he had insisted on being called, any longer. But she could not muster the strength to be discourteous, not with her father’s voice in her head, telling her that she would finally be of some use if she would just get married.
“Alas not,” Miles replied.
He was amiable enough in a distant sort of way, and he was polite enough to try and make conversation with her.
“Are you enjoying it?” Evelyn willed the ground to open up and swallow her, so she would not have to endure another moment of this tedious chat.
Miles nodded. “Yes, very much so. It is very… diverting. Ashcroft Manor is delightful, but one can tire of places rather easily, especially in the countryside.”
“You do not care for the countryside?”
Perhaps there was a glimmer of hope. He had alluded to the fact that he did not care for London, but maybe he favored another city where she might find entertainment and community.
“Oh no, I do, but I do not care for other… um… countrysides,” he replied, grimacing. “I like nothing more than to be in my own home, my family seat, though work often calls me away.”
“I see…”
So I will be left alone, far from friends and civilization.
“How is your ankle?” he asked, fidgeting with the cuffs of his tailcoat.
Evelyn forced a smile. “Oh, much better.”
It was the truth. After all the dedicated hours of care from Joan and Laurence’s household staff, there was just some minor swelling, the yellowed bloom of a healing bruise, and some manageable pain. More of a dull ache, really, which she did not notice unless she thought about it.
“I am pleased to hear it.” He nodded as if she had answered him correctly. “I should hate for anything bad to happen to you.”
“That is… kind of you to say,” she replied, wondering why she could not find the nerve to tell him what she had told Selina: that he was only concerned because he was worried about losing the dowry she would bring to the union.
Instead, she made herself pretend that she was the least bit grateful for his pretense, acting as if she could not see straight through him.
An uncomfortable silence settled between them, so unbearable that she could practically hear the cogs turning in his head as he sought another topic of conversation. Or, perhaps, those were the cogs in her own head, desperately trying to think of something to say.
Is this how it will be? Silence? Discomfort? Two strangers sharing a residence, and not all that often?The latter should have felt like a blessing, but all Evelyn could envision was endless hours of the unpleasant kind of solitude, where loneliness becomes an all-consuming monster. She would surely go mad if she had to endure such a marriage, isolated and alone, but not at all eager for her husband’s return: a lonely contradiction.
Just then, the bell of the modiste’s shop jingled. Hugo, Octavia, and Selina stepped out onto the street, granting Evelyn a longed-for reprieve.
“Excuse me,” Miles said abruptly, and dipped his head before turning and hurrying up the street, toward the public house where the rest of the gentlemen had gone.
In his absence, Evelyn unleashed a relieved breath, her body trembling all of a sudden. She had not realized the tension she had been holding in her muscles, her entire being seized up, but the unconscious effort now made itself known.
“Are you well?” Hugo asked, frowning at her.
Octavia seemed to notice at the same moment. “Evelyn, what is the matter? Did he say something unkind to you?” She took hold of Evelyn’s arm. “Goodness, you are shaking!”
“He was… perfectly cordial,” Evelyn replied, her voice catching. “I fear that I have… tried to do too much, too soon. It must be some… lingering effect of my ankle.”
Selina appeared on the other side of her. “I told you that you should be resting. Should we take you to a physician?”
“No, no, that will not be necessary,” Evelyn gasped, her blurry eyes seeking out the carriage. “I shall just… um… sit in the carriage for a while, so that I do not ruin the rest of your afternoon.”
“Nonsense,” Octavia said firmly. “I have bought what I needed to. We can return to the manor. All of us, together.”
Selina chewed her lip, as if that was notquitethe outcome she had hoped for, but there was true concern in her eyes. “I agree,” she said. “We should all return so that you can recuperate properly. A good cup of tea and the comfort of a bedchamber will serve you well. Besides, I did not see anything I wanted. Not really.”
She cast a sly look at Hugo, whose attention was entirely and intensely fixed upon Evelyn.
