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Evaine had turned ashen. For once, she didn’t leap to help her grandmother.

This was all his fault. He had pursued Miss Ballard like a greedy swine. He never intended to marry her. He had promised nothing of the sort and he thought she was fine with that arrangement. It seemed that Hazel had more in mind for her granddaughter than a simple affair.

Which was completely understandable. She saw him as a solution to their predicament. He certainly had a way of attracting pretty girls who were in search of a white knight, didn’t he?

Gareth hated the way it made their short time together feel cheap and mercenary instead of the loving gift he’d thought it was.

“Thank you for airing my dirty laundry in front of the duke, Gran,” Evaine said stiffly. “If you’ll excuse me. I need a moment to clean up.”

She stalked out of the room. Gareth scrubbed his face.

“She told you what happened at Girton?” Hazel said hesitantly once her coughing spell had passed.

“She did. That was no reason for you to do so, however.” Two could play the stern disapproval card. Hazel looked properly chagrined.

“I didn’t mean to. It just slipped out.” She patted her chest and coughed again. Another rough day, then. They really needed to get her medicine. “Such a headstrong girl. She rushes into things. She cares so much, Gareth. You must see that.”

“I do,” he said. Not that it mattered. He had nothing to offer Evaine except his worthless self.

I came here for you.

That was what she’d said to him, after telling him that he needed give himself grace and move on with his life, instead of wallowing in the hurts of his past.

Wasn’t that what he was trying to do?

He couldn’t see a way to free himself from the past without dispensing of the house and its resident ghosts that haunted him. Dragged him down. He had to get free of this place once and for all.

“Then promise me that you won’t break her heart,” Hazel pleaded.

“I make no vows to women,” he said tersely. “Of any sort. I said that to your granddaughter when we were first getting acquainted. She knew exactly what kind of man I was.”

Hazel inhaled sharply, setting off another coughing fit. He had turned away when she said weakly, “Or, she may have thought that you were lying to yourself. How did she respond, Your Grace?”

No more “Gareth.” He was surprised how Hazel’s change of attitude cut to the quick.

“She said, ‘I can see why you’re not married,’ and that it was on account of my ‘frightful personality.’”

Yet hadn’t that sounded like flirting? Hadn’t he longed for her even then?

“I’ll hitch the horse to the cart,” he said. “Be ready in half an hour. We are driving into the village today to get your medicine.”

“I’ll be ready,” Hazel said meekly.

The two-hour drive into the nearest village was an exercise in discomfort. On top of the general discord between the three of them, a stiff wind started up and didn’t stop the entire way there. The breeze cut through their warm clothes straight to the bone. Hazel shivered so violently that Gareth could practically hear her rattling on the seat beside him. Evaine sat in the cart bed with her knees drawn up to her chin and the crimson hood over her head. Glancing back, he couldn’t tell whether she was crying or merely tired and resting her eyes.

Evaine’s red cloak had mysteriously turned up on its hook in the kitchen. To his annoyance she had insisted upon wearing it. While Gareth knew that it was her warmest garment, he wished the damned thing had disappeared forever.

For one, its bright color was bound to attract notice. He was already a marked man in town. The added attention would be profoundly unwelcome.

For another, the damned cloak felt like a scarlet letter that Evaine was wearing to torment him. He would not be guilted into marrying her. He could not allow that to happen. He would be the end of his cursed lineage, and her pretty face would not sway him from his course now. He’d taken pains to ensure there would be no lingering ties between them. He’d cut short his own pleasure to protect them both.

You did it to protect yourself. You’ve never asked Evaine whether she wants children. You knew she wanted to return to school and made assumptions. But there was no reason her ambition had to mean sacrificing ever having a family. Never mind what nonsense society said about women having to choose between the two. Men didn’t have to. Women had been working and bearing children since time immemorial. It was only pampered arseholes like his own class that had women of leisure—and the privilege usually came with a cost of some form or another, like the way his own mother had paid with her freedom.

Gareth couldn’t make Evaine Ballard his duchess—if she wanted such a thing, which, right now, he very much doubted.

Nor could he prevent her from marrying another man.

A lump formed in his throat. He had no claim upon her.