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“I do not trust his interest. He showed his interest before and look what trouble it caused.” I selected a rose. “I shall wear one of these today.”
I moved to sit before my dresser.
She sighed and, as she left, said, “You’re stubborn against your own happiness.”
Is my happiness dependent only on Evander? I would hope not, I thought, twisting the rose between my fingers. I was determined not to allow myself to fall to any further chaos caused by him.
Just because he was now a widower did not mean I would take him. And just because he sent me flowers did not mean he was serious. I did not know his mind. But I did need to speak to him—if only to confirm he would not speak about the previous night. Should anyone know I was alone with him or that I had seen anything “inappropriate for a lady,” it would be my ruin.
“My lady, would you like me to add the flower to your hair?” my lady’s maid asked.
“If you wish,” I said, giving it to her.
I thought at the very least my mother would seek to maintain the pretense of an unarranged meeting in the park. That this was merely a family outing in which we came across the duke. However, upon arriving it was clear, as he waited where our servants had already set our tents, that the only purpose was for Evander and me to speak.
My mother not so discreetly lagged farther and farther behind, giving us as much space as propriety allowed. Her machinations seemed wasted as the duke and I walked in silence. I thought I had never minded silence, but his vexed me.
“May I count on you to keep our previous encounter a secret?”
“What previous encounter?” he questioned.
“Exactly.” I nodded.
“Ah, you mean when I saw you spying in the gardens last night.”
I paused, staring up at him in anger. “Why are you teasing me?”
“Forgive me,” was all he said, looking down at me gently.
We began walking once more.
“I am unsure of how to speak to you,” he said quietly.
“The appropriate manner is with courtesy and respect in adherence to social rules.”
“And yet you do not call me Your Grace, nor offer a curtsy.”
I stopped and gave him a dramatic curtsy. “Forgive me, Your Grace.”
He frowned and tilted his head at me. I walked on.
“Do you find me so distasteful now that you cannot treat me as we once were?”
“And what were we?”
“Friends.”
I scoffed and shook my head. “We were not. We were children, and then you were the person I assumed I would marry. None of those things applies any longer. You are just a duke, and I am just a lady.”
“I will not accept that.”
“What does that mean?” I was suddenly aware of how close he was to me, and my heart, the traitorous beast, began to beat faster.
“I will not accept that nothing lies between us but platitudes.”
“And because you will not accept it, I must agree?” I snapped. “Why is it that I have always to follow your determinations?”
“I did not mean—”
