Page 19 of How to Wed a Courtesan

It was only when he had held her for a long time that she remembered to put aside her elation at seeing him out of respect for his father’s death. She had wept for Evander when she’d read his missive about the Earl of Westix’s sudden death. She couldn’t imagine what life would be without her own father, who had always been such a pillar of support. Without him, she would be lost.

When Evander finally released her she looked up him, unable to ignore the lines of fatigue and stress showing on his face. Her chest ached with empathy.

‘I’m so sorry,’ she said gently.

One might think she would be adept at consoling the bereaved, being a vicar’s daughter. But she never knew exactly how to respond—for was there truly any one thing that could be said to ease the enormity of such loss?

She wished she could have been in London with Evander, to offer comfort. But at least he was here now, where she could help him heal.

Rather than offer dull platitudes, she folded her hands around his, as if she could cradle away his hurt.

He seemed to understand what she meant by the gesture and gave her a sad smile. Her brave, wonderful Evander.

‘Lottie...’

His gaze settled on the ring on her finger—the ring she only dared wear on these walks, when she might see him. Otherwise she left it on a chain that hung beneath her gown and rested against her heart.

He ran his thumb over the winking diamond and sighed. ‘I have to postpone our marriage.’

Her head snapped up and she regarded him with shock. These were not the words she was expecting to hear.

‘What is it?’ She tried to stuff down the welling panic inside her, the fear that he might be slipping away. The fear that all the happiness she’d amassed in the time she’d known him was simply ephemeral, to be whisked away on the first hard breeze. Surely their love was made of stronger stuff than that.

He swallowed and looked away.

Her heart clawed up into her throat. Something was horribly wrong. ‘Tell me, my love.’

‘My darling, it appears my father has spent all of our fortune,’ Evander replied at long last. ‘I’m, as it were, quite poor.’

Lottie frowned, uncertain what that had to do with postponing their elopement. ‘That doesn’t matter. I’ve never had wealth. Being with you was never about improving my station. I want to be your wife out of love.’

‘And what kind of husband would I be to offer you nothing but debt in return?’

The tears blazing in his eyes told her how very much that fortune meant to him—how much a pauper’s life for his new bride would not do. She was nearly ready to protest again that it didn’t matter, when she realised he was also no doubt concerned for the welfare of his family.

‘Your mother and sister?’

He shook his head. ‘My mother has a trust that will see to them both for some time.’

His gaze travelled around the sunny path, taking in the cheerful little stream, the thick forest where he’d laid her in the crackling leaves and claimed her with his love.

Her gown had been stained from the grass and dirt beneath them that day, but she hadn’t cared. It had been a worthy sacrifice for what they had shared then. What was still strong between them now.

‘I would be just as happy living in a cottage with you,’ she said. ‘Perhaps happier, if I’m being entirely honest.’

‘I promised you Huntly Manor so that you would be near your father.’ He ran a hand through his rich auburn hair. ‘I cannot afford it now. I refuse to wed you into a sinking earldom.’ He regarded her earnestly. ‘It should not take long. Perhaps six months. A year at the most.’

Lottie grasped his hand and held onto it as if she might physically keep him there with her. ‘Please don’t do this. Don’t go.’ He had only recently come back into her life. The thought of him gone once more was a visceral ache within her. ‘Please don’t leave me.’

‘I have to.’

He stroked her face with his hand, a tender caress she felt in her soul. ‘I promise I will be back as swiftly as I can, to return to you.’ His finger brushed her ring. ‘To make good on my intent to marry you. Properly. The way you deserve.’

‘Please don’t do this.’

Tension lined his brow. ‘I must.’

Lottie closed her eyes and a hot tear ran down her cheek. ‘I love you.’