Page 24 of How to Wed a Courtesan

‘I instruct ladies of the ton in the art of love and flirtation.’ She lifted her chin. ‘It is far better than my previous situation.’

His shoulders relaxed. There, now. That wasn’t so dreadful. ‘Whatever has happened can be smoothed over. I’ve come back a wealthy man, Lottie. Far wealthier than Somersville or any other duke or earl in London.’

Her face remained impassive as she scanned the room. It was filled with items of great wealth. All obtained for her.

At last, she lifted her gaze to him. ‘I never cared about money. I would rather have had you all these years, so I did not have to make the choices I was forced into.’

‘I did it for you,’ he protested. ‘For us.’

She shook her head and gave him a sad smile. ‘You did it for yourself.’

She turned from him then, and desperation built in his chest as he searched for some reason to detain her just a while longer. Even if their conversation circled round and round without conclusion, it would still provide him with the opportunity to be with her. To hear the sweetness of her voice and gaze upon her beauty. And she was still beautiful. Perhaps more so.

The slenderness of her frame had filled out with curves even the high waistline of her fashionable gown could not hide. In the years since he had left she had obtained an undeniable confidence. She held herself with certainty, no longer a shy, innocent vicar’s daughter, but a woman who knew the power of her appearance.

She was truly a sight to behold, in a pale blue gown that set off her striking blue eyes and made her black hair look glossy as silk.

‘I love you,’ he said vehemently. ‘I always have.’

She stopped and turned back towards him slowly. ‘Not enough.’

Before she could leave again, he added, ‘I always will.’

She withdrew something from a long silver chain about her neck and tugged at it with a severe jerk, snapping it free. With shaking hands, she pulled off some charm.

‘You don’t even know me.’

In a swift move, she threw the thing at his feet. The bit of jewellery bounced off the toe of his Hessian. He bent to reclaim it as she walked away.

It was then he realised it wasn’t a charm at all, but a small ring with a chip of diamond, still warm from where once it had rested against her heart.

Chapter Eight

Lottie’s father had been right about the men of the ton after all. His words had echoed in her mind often when she was with the men who paid for the right to keep her. Men who were given freedom and wealth and time, with no purpose save to delight in the pleasures of life and privilege. And there were many pleasures to be had.

Yet she had foolishly thought Evander was different. She knew now he was not—he was as guilty of greed as so many others were of lust.

Rage kindled inside her anew, hot and bright like the first flames of a fire licking over dry kindling. All-consuming.

He had no idea what he’d done to her. She’d been kind when she glossed over it in their discussion, but now she did not feel so kind.

Not bothering to dress, she tied her dressing gown closed. The back of her neck still stung from where she’d snapped her necklace free, the chain having sliced through her tender skin when she’d wrenched it off. She didn’t bother to look in the mirror before departing her room. After years of spending so much focus on her appearance, she knew well how she looked.

Golden light limned the door to the study, as she’d expected. With the newlywed couple locked away in marital bliss, there was only one other person who could be up as late as she.

She pushed open the door without bothering to knock, and Evander started where he sat before the fire.

His confusion melted away upon seeing her and he immediately got to his feet. ‘Lottie.’

She strode into the room, letting the door slip closed behind her as she did so. ‘I trusted you.’

Those three words had propelled her from her room and they echoed in her mind like a chant, driving her towards this moment when she could hurl them at him. But they did not flow from her lips with the ire she intended. They came out broken and hard. Like her.

‘I trusted you,’ she whispered hoarsely, the second attempt even more pathetic than the first. ‘I was an innocent girl, a foolish country chit with nothing, and you left me.’

Evander pulled in a soft intake of breath as if she’d slapped him again. ‘Lottie, I—’

‘No.’ This time she found her voice and her protest rang out in the room. ‘It is my turn to say my piece.’