by Cheryl Holt
For an eternity, she watched him, and finally her smile faded. She’d bravely furnished him with a chance to declare himself, but by his silence, he informed her she’d been rejected.
“If I back out of the engagement,” she asked, “could I stay at Fox Run?”
“At Fox Run?”
His panic must have been evident because she hastily said, “Just until I can make contact with my friends? There’s been some problem with my correspondence. After I hear from them, I’m positive I’ll have somewhere to go.”
She waited again, on tenterhooks for his affirmative reply, but he couldn’t give it.
Tell her! a voice was loudly urging. Tell her everything! But he simply couldn’t.
Once the words were uttered, they couldn’t be retracted. She’d be shocked and hurt. Very likely, she’d storm out and would never speak to him again, and the notion of their affair abruptly ending was too wrenching to contemplate.
Wasn’t he a cad and a bounder! Wasn’t he a despicable libertine!
She shook her head. “Listen to me! Prevailing on you—after all you’ve done for me already! I usually have better manners.”
She was saving him from himself, and he felt awful, like the blackguard he was.
“I’m sorry.” Without meaning it, he added, “Of course you could stay at Fox Run for a bit.”
“There’s no need for you to offer. I’m being a pest.”
“No, no, I just have a lot on my mind. I have some…issues in London that are plaguing me. I’ll get them sorted out. And you’re not prevailing on me. I’m happy to help you.”
But she didn’t believe him, and he’d squandered his opportunity to be truthful, to be a friend. His entire relationship with her was wrapped up in lies and deceptions. Maybe he wasn’t the decent fellow he’d assumed himself to be.
He should have been down on one knee, apologizing, proposing marriage, begging her to have him, but instead he was focused on how he’d foolishly promised she could stay at Fox Run for a while—when she absolutely couldn’t stay.
“I hate that you’re so distressed,” she said.
“I’m not.”
“You’re the worst liar, even worse than me.”
“My life is…complicated.”
“Am I making it more complicated?”
“No!”
She squirmed away and stood. “I should head to bed.”
“I don’t want you to go up yet.”
“I have to.”
“No, play a few more songs for me. Sing for me again.”
She stared at him, looking shrewd and wise and much older than he generally considered her to be.
“I have to raise a difficult topic with you,” she said, “but please don’t take it the wrong way.”
“I won’t.”
“I’ve been so happy since I came to Fox Run.”
“I’m glad.”
“I was nervous at first. I was engaged to the vicar without my ever having met him. It was scary.”
“You’ve been very brave about it.”
“Right away, I realized the match was a mistake, and I need to cry off.” She searched his eyes for a reaction. “But can I? If the dowry was already paid, can I refuse to proceed?”
“I’m guessing you can. It causes a bit of a kerfuffle, but it happens.”
“How do I refuse? I have so many questions about it.”
“Such as?”
“Do I just tell the vicar? Would that end it? Can he decline to let me end it? Does he have a choice? If it’s simply my own decision, must I have legal papers drawn up to make it binding?”
“I have no idea. You should probably talk to an attorney.”
“I don’t have any funds to consult with an attorney.”
He yearned to invite her to travel to London with him, to speak with his solicitor, Mr. Thumberton. Yet if Aaron involved himself in severing the betrothal, when that betrothal was to his own cousin and when Aaron’s own father had apparently arranged it, it would open a massive can of worms.
Betrothals could be dissolved, but it was very rare. There would be unceasing gossip as to his role in the debacle. Was he prepared to wade into such a morass?
He felt as if he was walking across a field of broken glass in his bare feet and every step was a bad one. He couldn’t bear to envision her wed to his cousin, but when his motives toward her were so dastardly, he couldn’t give her the wrong impression or raise false hopes.
“I have to know your opinion about something else,” she continued.
“Just say it, Evangeline.”
“Well…ah…” She halted, blushed furiously. “I’ve rehearsed this a hundred times, but it’s so much more difficult than I imagined.”
He was still sitting, and she was standing, and he took her hand and tried to pull her onto his lap again. But she yanked away and moved back so there was more space separating them.
“When you touch me, it confuses me,” she said. “Good, I like you confused.”
“Be silent and let me get through this.”
“Go ahead.”
“You wouldn’t ever…that is…you wouldn’t ever think of marrying me yourself, would you?”
It was such a daring, unexpected query. A woman never proposed to the man—at least not in his stilted world where weddings involved huge transfers of wealth and were often contracted when a babe was in the cradle.
“You’re putting me in a tough position,” he said.
“I don’t mean to. I like you so much, and I’ve built up these wild scenarios about you.”
He smiled. “Not too wild, I hope.”
“When we’re isolated here in the manor, I forget myself.”
“Me too.”
“I start to picture a future for us, but you don’t see it occurring, do you? I’m a trifle? It’s fun and games?”
“Oh, Evangeline…”
He might have expounded, but any comment would crush her, and she held up a palm, stopping whatever remark would have followed.
“It’s all right,” she said. “I had to be sure.”
“You’re asking such hard questions.”
“They’re not hard, and I’m not a child. You can be honest with me. I had a very sheltered upbringing, so I’ve had no experience maneuvering through such a muddle. I’m not certain what’s allowed or forbidden for me to discuss with you.”
“I understand.”
“And recently I heard stories about a nobleman’s son who wed a commoner. She had no antecedents to recommend her.”
She gazed at him with a tormented expression. She’d just described his brother’s exact marital circumstance. Was she referring to Lucas?
Lucas was marrying Miss Hubbard, but Lucas’s situation was totally different from Aaron’s. Lucas had no title to inherit, no earl’s line to continue with his sons, no pressure to marry as high as he was able. Lucas could pick whomever he wished, but Aaron couldn’t. It was simply the law of the universe in which he lived.
“Occasionally, a man will wed beneath his station,” he mumbled.
“But you couldn’t see it happening to you?”
“Well…”
“I’ve embarrassed you, haven’t I? I’m sorry to blurt out what’s vexing me, but there’s no way to tiptoe around the edges of this. You’d never consider me as a bride, would you?”
He couldn’t tell the truth. Instead, he said, “I asked you this before—crudely and boorishly—but we’d just met, so let me ask it again. Would you come to London with me?”
“To be your what?”
“You know what. To be my mistress.”
She gave a soft, miserable laugh. “No, I could never do that.”
They stared, and a terrible wave of sadness swept over him. They might have had a bright future. It would have been so extraordinary, he’d have braved Priscilla’s wrath and society’s censure merely to pursue it.
It hovered there, like a tangible object, but he couldn’t grab onto it.<
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“It would be grand to have you as my mistress,” he insisted, and it would be grand—on his end. For her, it would be ruination, coupled with some financial support until he grew tired of her and moved on. “Many women would deem themselves lucky to be allied with a rich fellow like me.”
“Only a rich fellow like you would view it that way,” she countered.
Chastised, he nodded. “You’re correct.”
The light that seemed to glow around her was dimming, the joy she emanated gradually waning.
“I had previously claimed that I hate to prevail on you.”
“Stop feeling as if you’ve been a burden. You haven’t been.”
“I’d like to leave Fox Run.”
“Leave! Isn’t that a bit drastic?”
“My friend who I’ve been writing to about my predicament? I haven’t received a reply, but I thought it might be best to simply go to her. She’d help me.”
“It might be best,” he tepidly agreed, rattled by her announcement.
“Could you loan me a few pounds so I could purchase a ticket on the mail coach?”
“On the mail coach?” he asked like a dunce—as if he’d never heard of the vehicle.
“I’ll pay you back as soon as I can.”
“It’s not that,” he scoffed. “It’s just…you’re making rash decisions.”
“Rash? How are they rash?”
“You wish to depart and travel across the countryside alone. It’s happening too fast. Let’s slow down and think for a minute.”
“I’ve been thinking about nothing else since I arrived.”
“I can be with you at Fox Run for two more weeks before I have to return to London. I want you here with me.”
“I can’t be.”
“Why can’t you?” he snapped more hotly than necessary. “Is it because of our relationship? That should be the reason we both stay.”
“Well, I know how I feel about you,” she stated, “but I’m not exactly sure any of my sentiment is reciprocated.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Suddenly, his temper was flaring, when there was no basis for it to be.
If she left, she’d be doing him an enormous favor. For the price of a ticket on the mail coach, his problem would be solved. Why not hand her the money?
“You said it yourself, Aaron,” she kindly chided. “You would never marry me, and the only role you could see me filling would be as your mistress.”
“We could be happy that way.”
“You could be happy that way. I never could be.”
They glared, silently fighting, which was idiotic and pointless. There was naught to fight about. She had no place in his life and was eager to depart. He should let her.
Why then, was he experiencing such crushing alarm at the prospect of her going?
“This is ridiculous,” she ultimately muttered. “Why are we quarreling?”
“I don’t know.”
“Will you give me the money? It’s fine if you’d rather not.”
“It’s not the money,” he claimed.
“What is it then?”
“I don’t want you to leave.”
“So? What purpose would be served by my tarrying a moment longer?”
“We could have two more weeks together!” Why couldn’t he make her understand?
“Doing what?”
“What we’ve been doing. Singing and riding and dining. It’s been so enjoyable.”
“Yes, it has—like a relaxing, entertaining holiday. I’ll always remember it. I’ll always be grateful that I had the chance to visit your home.”
It was such a final comment, as if she already had a foot out the door.
“What about your engagement?” he asked.
“What about it?”
“You have to end it, and it will take some time and effort. You can stay while you wrap things up.”
“I can’t stay. Every minute I spend with you is a betrayal of your cousin.”
“Don’t be absurd.”
“It is! Don’t deny it. I’m being consumed by guilt.”
“I’m not. Besides, if you’re crying off, how can our relationship matter to him? It’s none of his business.”
“He was kind to bring me here, and my decision will cause hard feelings all around. It will upset the community and upset the vicar and his mother. It will be better for everyone concerned if it’s handled from a distance.”
“I’ll help you—if you remain with me.”
“You can’t be involved in it.”
“I suppose not,” he grumbled. She was right again, of course. He couldn’t have his name bandied within a hundred miles of the debacle.
“As I wade through it, I need to be surrounded by friends. I need their support and advice.”
“When would you tell my cousin?” he inquired.
“Tomorrow morning.”
“Tomorrow!”
“Yes, and I’d like to leave immediately after. The mail coach comes by at noon. I’d like to be on it.”
He felt as if she was already walking away, and once she did, he’d never again enter his dining room to see her seated at the breakfast table. He’d never stand in the foyer and hear her piano music drifting down the hall. He’d never gaze across the parlor at a party and proudly watch her as she charmed his neighbors and enchanted his friends.
Though it was horrid, he let an image of Priscilla float in the air between them. He’d never previously given much thought to Priscilla being at Fox Run, to Priscilla supervising the servants and running the household.
He tried to picture her in the manor, making his home the easy, merry place Evangeline had turned it into. He tried to picture the servants looking at Priscilla with the adoration they showered on Evangeline.
Yet Priscilla wasn’t Evangeline and would never behave like Evangeline.
With Priscilla in residence, it would be as dreary as it had always been, but accompanied by bickering and strife, by accusations and blame. With Priscilla in residence, Aaron might never visit Fox Run.
Evangeline had arrived at a decision—to sever her engagement—and she was prepared to follow through. Why couldn’t he do the same?
A separation from Priscilla would create a huge mess, would stir controversy and bring fiscal catastrophe. But why would he blithely carry on when the marriage was so wrong? Why was he allowing his father to pressure him? Why couldn’t he seize what he craved for once?
“No,” he murmured.
“What?”
“No. You’re not crying off tomorrow, and you’re not leaving in the morning.”
“I have to,” she insisted. “It’s the only way to save myself.”
“No,” he said more firmly, and he pushed himself to his feet and marched over to her. “You’re not proceeding until I have time to figure out a better conclusion.”
“You’d never wed me, and so long as that is your opinion, there is no better conclusion for us.”
“There has to be. I just have to find it.”
“It’s pointless, Aaron.”
“No, not pointless. Don’t say that.”
He dipped down and kissed her. He’d been putting it off all night, but he didn’t want to control himself, didn’t want to stay away from her. He wanted to be so soundly connected that there could never be an inch of space between them.
For a brief second, she tried to pull away, but their physical attraction was too strong. She moaned with despair, then leaned into him, her arms wrapping around his waist.
His tongue was in her mouth, his hands in her hair. Her body was pressed to his, but he simply couldn’t get her near enough. Short of fornication, he couldn’t truly have her in the fashion he desperately desired. But he wasn’t so sufficiently corrupted that he’d deflower her on the sofa in his parlor. If she deserved anything from him, she deserved that.
He kissed her forever, for hours perhaps; he couldn’t guess how long it lasted. He couldn’t bear to release her
, feeling that if he did, she might vanish right before his eyes.
He held her and caressed her and pleased himself, captivated by how she fit against him, how she responded to his slightest move, his slightest touch. She was perfect for him, but he’d convinced himself he couldn’t have her.
Why couldn’t she be his? He would cast caution to the wind, would tell his father to sod off, would tell Priscilla it was over. He wasn’t concerned about the morass it would cause, about ruined reputations or legal suits for breach of contract.
He thought he might be in love with Evangeline, that he might be pitifully, completely, wildly in love. And if a man couldn’t marry for love, why marry at all?
Gradually, he slowed and drew away.
“I have to ride to London tomorrow,” he told her.
“Why?”
“I have to take care of some family issues.”
“What issues?”
“It’s some old trouble.”
“All right.”
“While I’m gone,” he said, “I want you to promise me you won’t talk to my cousin. Don’t leave. Just…wait.”
She was clutching his shirt, seeming weak, as if the least poof of wind would knock her to the floor. Finally, she repeated, “All right.”
“I’ll fix everything while I’m there.”
“I have no idea what that means.”
“I’ll explain once I’m back.”
She was dubious, skeptical. “Tell me I’ll be fine, that there will be a good ending for me. Tell me it will involve you.”
“It will, but you have to be here when I return.”
Her shoulders sagged as if with defeat. “I will be. I promise.”
“We’ll work this out, Evangeline, I swear it to you.”
“Here’s hoping.” She spun and ran for the stairs.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“How was your journey?”
“Invigorating. Calming.”
“Good. You look better than you have in ages.”
Aaron stared at his father, wishing they were in the country at Sidwell Manor, but earlier in the summer, his father had come to town. He hadn’t left, which was exhausting and expensive. Lord Sidwell felt entitled to behave as most gentlemen of his station behaved. He gambled and caroused and bought costly horses, art, clothes, and jewelry he didn’t need.
