Page 80 of How to Wed a Courtesan

‘I told you we would buy it.’ He settled onto the wall of soft pillows beside her, his naked leg resting against hers. ‘I wish it could have been six years ago.’

She stared at the document, incredulous. Evander had made good on his promise. And even though she had shoved his affection aside, time and again, he hadn’t sold it or had it transferred to his name. No, he had continued to hold it, as determined that it would some day be hers as he had been that they would be married.

‘You were right,’ Lottie said. ‘It matters most now. Thank you for this generous, thoughtful gift.’

Suddenly she was thinking of Oxfordshire, of the small village of Binsey and the home she had shared with her father. While she was grateful that Charles had been at the ceremony to give her away, it did not mean she had not felt her father’s absence.

She had missed him over the years, but never so greatly as the day of her wedding.

Evander ran a hand down her face. ‘I know it won’t be the same,’ he said gently, as though hearing her thoughts. ‘If you’d prefer never to go—’

She shook her head. ‘No, I want to. Before my father’s death there were so many happy memories there. Not only with him, but with you.’ She replaced the deed in the envelope and folded her hand into his.

‘I know we haven’t had time to plan a wedding trip.’ Evander tucked his free arm behind his head and leaned back into the plushness of the many pillows. ‘God knows if anyone deserves a respite from their lives to celebrate their affection for one another, it’s us.’

Lottie laid her head on his chest. ‘Indeed.’

His heart thumped in a steady rhythm beneath her cheek. ‘I wanted to ask where you wished to go. We could travel to India, as Charles and Eleanor did, or perhaps see the floating city of Italy, or...’

‘Or go to Oxfordshire and stay at Huntly Manor?’ she suggested, lifting her head to gaze up at him.

‘That was exactly what I was going to say.’ He smiled down at her. ‘And exactly where I was hoping you would want to go.’

‘Yes,’ she breathed, returning her head to his warm, strong chest. ‘That is exactly where I should like to go. There is a path near the vicarage that I am especially fond of.’

‘I believe I know the one to which you refer.’ Evander ran his fingers over her naked shoulder, leaving her skin tingling with pleasure. ‘I’ll see to the arrangements and I imagine we can be there within a week or so.’

Lottie gave a dreamy sigh as Evander removed his hand from hers to curl one strong arm around her, securing her to him in a tender embrace.

Never had she thought such happiness was possible. And indeed it was, when they were together. But despite Evander’s assurances of his love, and the joy she felt at that moment, dread for the future pooled in the bottom of her stomach. Not for her marriage, but for how others would react.

Members of the ton were cruel, and she had married her way into society. She knew it would be a long time, if ever, before she would be accepted.

Even as she tried to force away such thoughts as she lay there in blissful contentment, they hovered in the back of her mind like a vulture. No matter the love of her friends and her husband, the ton’s scorn was coming.

Evander spent the remainder of Saturday and Sunday enjoying life as a happy newlywed. Countless hours were spent learning Lottie’s body—what made her breath catch, what made her moan, what made her grab him and pull him towards her. But at last Monday arrived and business had to be tended to. His lovely new Countess would oversee the blending of her small staff with his and co-ordinate the moving of her belongings into Westix Place while he set off to meet with the other investors in the mine.

Last week had brought reports that the largest deposits of silver yet had been uncovered, with the promise of more to come. True, Evander was beyond wealthy, but he never forgot the power of a fortune.

Nor how easily one could be lost.

Especially now that he had a wife, and hopefully a family soon to follow. He would ensure his line remained secure in their good name and wealth. And this was just the way to do it.

He entered the smoky library at Huffsby House, where the other investors in the silver mine sat around the large table. Glasses of scotch and brandy sat before the men, while several held cigarillos with tendrils of grey smoke coiling up from the glowing tips.

As one, the men stopped talking and turned to face him.

Evander continued towards them, a stack of leather-bound papers pinched between his elbow and torso. They held his ideas for how best to capitalise on selling the silver.

Lord Huffsby, the Earl who headed the investment, got to his feet and held up a hand.

As no one else was moving, it was clear the gesture was for Evander, who stopped in his tracks.

Huffsby narrowed his small grey eyes at Evander across the large table. ‘Lord Westix, we’ve heard some disturbing rumours.’

‘Maybe you should keep away from gossip circles and leave them to your wives,’ Evander jested.

No one laughed.