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Harry tried to picture them both at Pendleton, sitting down to dinner and him discussing his day with her. Would she want to hear about his tenants and the crops they’d planted, or the price he had managed to extract from the grain buyers in town? Would she sit with him afterwards, smiling secret smiles with him, and when he took a fancy to, would she let him lift her up onto his horse and ride to the heart of Pendleton and make love to her?
No matter how hard he tried to imagine it, he couldn’t. The face in his musings was always Sophy’s.
“Harry?”
He realised he had been lost in his own thoughts again.
She was watching him curiously. “You don’t want to hear about our wedding, do you?” she asked him quietly, eyes searching his.
He could say he did, ask questions, tease a smile from her. That’s what he had done in the past, but now he had moved beyond that. She deserved his honesty, and he thought he deserved hers.
He took her hands in his. “Evelyn.”
“What is it, Harry?” she asked anxiously. “I know there is something …” There were shadows under her eyes, as if she had slept as little as he had. “Last night,” he began, but she didn’t even let him finish.
“You overheard Oscar,” she said and shook her head. “Sometimes he gets so angry he forgets himself. He only wants to see me safe and happy.”
“I heard him suggest you marry me and produce an heir and then find love elsewhere.” His voice was low and even, but his gaze was watchful. “Is that how he expects you to be safe and happy?”
She stared wide eyed, and then she shook her head a little wildly. “I’m sure he didn’t say that exactly. Besides, I would never do that to you.”
“It would make sense if you did,” he went on. “We signed a contract but we don’t have to abide with it once you give me a son. We are two very different people, aren’t we? And … you don’t love me, Evelyn.”
“Harry!” she gasped. Almost immediately he could see her mask slipping into place. Her smile was warm and once he would have been fooled by it. “Of course I love you! I am so looking forward to making my life with you at-at Pendleton.”
“And yet my brother tells me you and James Abbott exchanged glances last night as if you were star-crossed lovers.”
Her eyes widened. “James? You know he asked me to marry him and then I was forced to break off with him! I told you that. I was honest with you.” Her smile had become rigid. “That’s all in the past. I don’t know what your brother saw but it wasn’t what he thought.”
“Evelyn—”
“I want to marry you, Harry.”
Frustration tore at the edges of his patience. She was holding firm but he had to try to break down her defences. It was his only hope. Their only hope.
“I will probably take a mistress.”
She covered her mouth with her hand as if holding in a sob. “Will you?”
He shook his head. “No,” he admitted reluctantly. “The woman I love will not be my mistress. She refused. Not that I blame her,” he muttered.
She stared a moment longer, a mess of emotion crossing her lovely face. “I’m not sure I want to hear this, Harry. These are not the sort of confidences an engaged woman should be privy to.”
He leaned closer. “You said you were honest with me, well I’m being honest with you, Evelyn. I’m not perfect, far from it, and neither are you. We are planning to marry and mesh our lives together. Till death do us part. Do you really want that life with me? If we live our four score and ten years, most of them will be spent married to each other. I know we are friends, and I hope you are as fond of me as I am of you. I see us continuing to be friends once we tie the knot, but where is the spark? The passion? Without it, will either of us ever be truly happy? Or are we looking at a lifetime of regrets?”
His voice was low and impassioned, and he could see she was torn between doing as he asked and continuing with her pretence. “Oscar will be so angry with me,” she said, as if that was an answer but he didn’t know the question. “After James … He said next time he would decide who I must marry. It was he who chose you, Harry.” Her eyes darted to his.
“So I was a poor second,” Harry said.
“No! Even though Oscar chose you, I was happy because you are handsome and good and kind. I knew you would …you would …” She swallowed. “My brother has a strong personality. My mother does whatever he tells her to and he treats me the same. I have no power over my own life and he will not relinquish control until I am married.”
Harry had been right. Evelyn was marrying him to escape from Oscar. There was genuine fear in her eyes now. Her calm exterior had a crack in it, and Harry pushed harder, wanting to see her break wide open.
“Tell me about James Abbott,” he said.
“I have.”
“Tell me everything,” he said. His hands held hers and squeezed, hoping to give her the courage they both needed.
