Page 35 of Evie and Louis: The Story so Far

Nic held up his hands in a peaceable gesture. “Not a word. Upon my honour.”

Louis nodded, a little of the tension leaving his shoulders.

“So, what will you do?”

Louis shrugged. “I cannot seduce an innocent, and until she sees me as something other than her dear friend, I can do nothing but endure.”

“You could tell her how you feel,” Nic suggested.

“And have her run away from me?” Louis shook his head. “Out of the question. I could not bear it. Staying away from her this long has been agony. I cannot keep my distance as I ought to.”

“She might not run…”

“She would.”

Nic sighed, conceding the point. Louis knew the girl better than anyone, and he was an excellent judge of character. “Well then. You’ll wait for her.”

“Yes.”

“You don’t look very happy about it,” Nic observed with sympathy.

Louis turned, leaning back against the windowsill. “Would you be?” he demanded.

Nic shook his head.

Louis hung his head, staring at the carpet, his expression taut. “I’m afraid I will lose her, Nic. She is everything good and true in this world. She makes me happy, and I know that for the rarity it is. I am at peace when she is near, and I want her so badly I’m sick with it, but I am afraid.”

Nic stood, his heart aching as he heard the bleak note in his brother’s voice.

“Why?”

“Because I am not the only one who sees her. I am only the one who saw her first, and I must stand back and watch her flirt with other men, allow her the little romances that all young women adore and need to experience before they commit themselves to a husband. I think it might kill me, Nic. And even if I endure all this, she may still never turn to me.”

Nic crossed the room and grasped Louis’ shoulders. “Non. She will come around. Like you said, you must tread gently, that’s all. Be patient, Louis. You, of all men, know how to bide your time.”

Louis let out a breath of laughter. “Ah, oui. So I do, but that does not mean I have to like it.”

Dearest Viv,

I am glad you are feeling better, your grandmother’s foul potions aside. Having been once on the receiving end of one of her remedies myself, I heartily sympathise, though I too recognise their efficiency. I suppose it’s better than enduring a head cold for days. Just.

So what if I danced with Monsieur Le Comte twice? I also danced with Mr Hadley-Smythe twice and the Duke of Rochford. So what do you make of that?

Shall I call on you next week?

―Excerpt of a letter to Miss Vivien Ashton (daughter of Silas and Aashini Anson, The Viscount and Viscountess Cavendish) from Miss Evie Knight (daughter of Lady Helena and Mr Gabriel Knight).

19th December 1840, Beverwyck, London.

Once their guests had gone, Georgie surveyed what remained of the cakes, deciding which she would like. Only Jules, Rochford, Evie, and Louis César were in the parlour now, chatting amiably.

A footman was clearing away all the empty cups and saucers and Evie stood, approaching him. She was carrying a beautiful bouquet of pink hyacinths, the scent of which filled the room.

“Davies, would you see these are put in water and sent to my room, please?”

“Of course, Miss Knight,” the footman said, placing the bouquet carefully on the tray.

“They’re beautiful flowers, and such a glorious perfume. I think your Mr Hadley-Smythe is rather smitten,” Georgie said.