Page 28 of How to Wed a Courtesan

Ah, now, there was a rare and enchanting flower—much like his recipient.

‘Yes, perfect.’ He glanced at his pocket watch, noting it was nearly three—almost time for his meeting with several investors regarding a silver mining operation, for which he was the prime contributor. Another venture that would guarantee an impressive return. ‘Preferably red.’

‘Of course.’ Miss Flemming looked up.

The smile on her face somewhat diminished for some reason, he thought, although he could not hazard a guess as to why.

‘And hyacinths.’

She faltered. ‘With red china roses? Perhaps white roses instead?’

Purity. Evander immediately shook his head. He would not remind Lottie of the absence of her innocence, of what he had cost her. ‘You will make it look pleasing. You always do.’

The smile was back on Miss Flemming’s face. ‘Is there anything else I can do for you, my lord?’ She moved closer to him once more. ‘Anything at all?’

He frowned at her curious action. ‘The flowers will do well enough. Thank you, Miss Flemming.’ He would have just enough time to make it to the meeting. ‘Do forgive me, but I must go.’

Miss Flemming nodded. ‘I’ll see you next week, for another bouquet for Miss Rossington.’

And that was why he appreciated Miss Flemming. She could craft a fine bunch of flowers and she always anticipated what he would need.

The bouquets would not make things right with Lottie, he knew. He was not so daft as to anticipate such paltry things would win her heart. But they were a symbol—not only of his ever-present sentiments towards her, but of his loyalty to her. The flowers were delivered each week without fail—a reminder to her that he was not that foolish young man any more. That he was steadfast in his determination to win her back. That he would spend his entire life trying to make up for his egregious behaviour and find a way back into her heart.

‘Indeed,’ he replied. ‘Good day, Miss Flemming.’

With that, he left the shop and rushed towards his appointment.

In the years that had passed since he’d first arrived back in England, he’d sold the spices, fabrics and other treasures acquired on his travels for even more than anticipated.

It should have been enough.

Yet somehow no amount of fortune ever seemed as if it was. There was always another investment to be had, another pocket of wealth to unearth.

What’s more, he was damn good at it. It was something tangible. Something he could control. All his efforts yielded reward.

He climbed into his carriage and leaned his head back as it lurched onward. If only his efforts with Lottie would prove as successful.

Lottie made her way down to the drawing room to meet with her first and only male student: Viscount Rawley. Ironically, Lady Caroline, the object of his affection, was another student of hers. The young lady was a black-haired beauty whose dark eyes shone with infatuation every time she mentioned Lord Rawley.

It should have worked out impeccably, and yet attempting to put the two together was about as easy as blending oil and water.

The issue was due in large part to the Viscount’s misgivings—which Lottie knew would require the most work.

He lurched to his feet as soon as she entered the room. ‘Thank you for seeing me with such expediency, Miss Rossington.’

His normally immaculate attire appeared a bit dishevelled. His cravat somewhat crooked and his brown hair a mite ruffled.

To anyone else, these minor disruptions would be easily dismissed. But Lottie had come to know Lord Rawley well after the months she’d met with him. Those small changes indicated a catastrophe of monumental proportions.

‘Of course.’ She smiled affectionately, so he knew she was not mocking him. ‘Has something happened with Lady Caroline?’

‘Yes.’ Lord Rawley rubbed the back of his head, leaving a tuft of hair jutting out. ‘No. I confess, I am entirely unsure. But then, I do have a keen skill for bumbling everything.’

‘Truly, what is the worst that could happen?’ Lottie asked. ‘Especially when you know she wants you with her?’

He huffed a heavy sigh. ‘The usual things, I suppose. Unknowingly ingesting something that contains shrimp and being violently ill before her. Tripping down a set of stairs and accidentally pulling her down with me. Saying something ridiculous. It’s foolish, I know, but she’s always so very witty and pleasant. I’m such a dullard by comparison.’

‘You are certainly no dullard, and I imagine the occurrence of any of those events to be highly unlikely,’ she said encouragingly. ‘Lady Caroline is important to you, is she not?’