Page 111 of The Siren of Sussex

In just a few short weeks, he’d become essential to her happiness. Even now, when he was but a short distance away, all she could think of was seeing him again.

Is this what it was like to lose one’s heart to a gentleman? This feeling that you’d risk everything—give up everything—just to be with him?

“It’s why you’re here, isn’t it?” Fenny asked. “With me gone, you’re the next in line to play sacrificial lamb. Take my advice and save yourself the trouble. Our sisters won’t thank you for it. Not unless they’ve changed a great deal during the past three years.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Don’t you?” Fenny’s gaze flickered with sisterly condescension. “Gussie might be happy with a London season, but Caro? Bette? The last I saw of them, they were as eager to join the ranks of bluestockings as you were.”

“I’m not—”

“You are.”

Evelyn’s posture went rigid. But she refused to be drawn into an argument. She’d come here to discuss Fenny’s troubles, not her own. “I wish you’d written,” she said. “I was afraid for you.”

“You shouldn’t have been.”

“I feared you might have met the same fate as Mama.”

Fenny’s expression sobered. She’d been only sixteen when Mama had died in childbed, and had taken the loss very hard. “There was no chance of that. Up to now, I’ve managed to keep myself tidy. The French have ways of doing so, you know.”

Evelyn gave her sister a blank look.

“Things to prevent a child from coming,” Fenny said impatiently. “We thought them reliable. They weren’t, obviously, which is how I find myself in this state. It’s all very inconvenient.”

Inconvenient.

That was one word for it.

Evelyn rose from the chair. She didn’t have much time left. She’d promised Ahmad she would be quick. “You do intend to marry him?”

“The moment Anthony turns twenty-six, we’ll be up before the parson. He’ll have access to his mother’s funds then. It’s more than enough for us to live on.”

“And until that happens?”

She shrugged. “So long as we don’t wed without his permission, Sir William will keep sending Anthony an allowance. It will have to do for us.”

“Where will you live?”

“In France, naturally. Steamers leave for Calais twice a week. We’ll depart as soon as Anthony procures our passage. And then, I shall have my baby, and you can have your season. Though I suggest,” Fenny added with some asperity, “if you’re truly concerned about your reputation, you refrain from visiting places like this in future.”

“I came here to see you.”

“At night. In company with a man. Your dressmaker, of all people.” Fenny laughed. “Wouldn’t Aunt Nora be interested to know that.”

“I don’t see why either of us should burden Aunt Nora with any of this.”

Fenny stilled. “You haven’t told her about me?”

“Not yet.”

“I don’t expect she’d want to know anyway. Not after what I did.”

Evelyn felt a stab of compassion for her sister. “Do you truly wish to go back to France? To have your baby so far from home?”

A shadow of a smile touched Fenny’s lips. “I thought you wanted me to leave? The better for you and your marriage prospects.”

“It would be best. But I’ll not drive you away. Not when you’re in this condition.” Evelyn meant it. It wouldn’t be easy for her sister to return to Combe Regis. Not for any of them. But it was plainly the best option for Fenny and her child. “You must come home.”