Page 92 of How to Wed a Courtesan

And yet once they were in London they might not be able to return to Binsey for a while. What if something happened in the meantime? Buildings burned down all the time. Or they were damaged by something falling on them in a storm. Or...

She was being ridiculous.

She nodded and clasped his hand more tightly in hers. ‘Let us go. Together.’

He smiled and allowed her to lead him around the corner and down the path that ended at the vicarage.

The whitewashed walls soon became visible through the slender tree trunks and Lottie’s pulse quickened.

Evander followed her down the path, stopping short alongside her as the house came into view. It looked exactly the same, with a small white fence framing the garden, the whitewashed walls clean and stark against the sun. The sweet scent of the thatched roof was carried towards them on a light breeze that caused the flowers under the windowsill to rustle against one another.

It was so familiar that she half expected her father to walk out at any moment.

No sooner had the thought entered her mind than the front door swung open and a man strode out into the sunshine. The breath she’d locked in her chest whooshed out as she realised it was not her father.

This man was around the same age her father had been when he died, but was much shorter, with fair hair. Clearly he was the new vicar having returned from Yorkshire. He gave them a broad smile.

‘Good morning,’ he called in a jovial voice. ‘I trust the day finds you both well.’

‘It does, thank you,’ Lottie replied, slightly breathless.

Evander glanced down at her, his worry evident, but she gave him a reassuring smile. There was comfort in knowing that the old vicarage was still standing and in good condition, its garden tended and the home well-loved. The way it was meant to be. The way her father would have wanted it to remain.

The vicar who had replaced her father, Reverend Richards, approached them, his expression open and friendly. ‘Is there something I might help you with?’

‘I...’ Lottie flushed.

‘My wife used to live here,’ Evander said. ‘Formerly Miss Charlotte Rossington. Now Lady Westix.’

The vicar’s smile widened, if such a thing were possible. ‘I thought you seemed familiar. I hope you weren’t in need of anything in my absence.’

‘Not at all.’ Lottie shook her head. ‘I hope your father is much improved.’

Reverend Richards nodded and his thick hair fell into his eyes. He absently brushed it away. ‘He is, thanks be to God. I appreciate your concern.’

‘I simply wanted to come and see the house.’ Lottie’s cheeks warmed. ‘It’s been six years since my father passed.’

‘God rest his soul.’ The vicar’s expression eased into one of sincere sympathy. ‘I’ve heard he was a good man.’

‘Thank you.’ Lottie smiled softly to herself as she recalled those sweet, wonderful memories of her father. ‘He truly was.’

Suddenly Reverend Richards straightened. ‘I found a box belonging to your father last year, when I was going through the attic. It was nestled so far at the back I’d missed it in the many times I’d been up there before.’ He hesitated. ‘Actually, would you like to come in for some tea?’

The idea of going inside, of seeing the same furnishings in her old home belonging to someone else, made her freeze. It was too much, too soon.

Lottie shook her head. ‘Another time, perhaps. We are departing for London shortly, but thank you for the offer.’

‘I’ll retrieve it for you.’

Reverend Richards quickly turned and disappeared inside the house, emerging moments later with a medium-sized plain wooden box.

‘It must have fallen for it to have been so out of sight. I tried to find you, but the forwarding address you’d left at Huntly Manor no longer seemed to have occupants. I was unsure where to find you after...’

‘Thank you for having gone through the effort,’ Lottie said, reaching for the box.

Before she could put her hands on it, Evander took it with a wink. ‘I’ll carry it.’

She nodded her appreciation to Evander and thanked the vicar once more. Her gaze remained fixed on the box as they departed.