Page 116 of The Siren of Sussex

“You require a wealthy husband,” he reminded her. “It’s why you’re here. You’ve told me so yourself.”

“That was before.”

His lips twisted in a humorless smile. “Before you saw my face in the crystal.”

“I saw your face in the crystal because you were already on my mind. Every gentleman I met at the ball . . . I compared them all with you and found them wanting.”

“That’s very flattering, but—”

“Don’t.” She moved away from his touch. “Don’t patronize me.”

His hand fell from her cheek. “I’m not patronizing you. I only want you to see that being with me isn’t part of your plan.”

“Plans can change,” she said. “Mine already have.”

It was true. Her carefully calibrated blueprint for the season had gone out the window within the very first fortnight. It had been altered by Stephen’s arrival, and Fenny’s return. And by the fact that all of the balls and parties Evelyn would be attending were now in some way related to spiritualism.

And it had been altered by Ahmad. An alteration not only of her plans, but of herself. It had happened the moment she’d heard his voice behind the curtain at Doyle and Heppenstall’s. The moment she’d seen him behind the counter.

“Is that what this is?” He searched her face. “Have you changed your mind? Decided to give this all up?”

“No, but—”

“No,” he said. “You can’t, can you? You have your sisters to think of.” He paused, adding, “And your horse.”

He may as well have dashed cold water in her face. It rather felt like he had.

“I am thinking of them,” she said. “I never stop.”

“Of course you don’t. They’re your first and best concern.”

She couldn’t deny it. “They are. That doesn’t mean there’s no room in my heart for anyone else.”

“Evie . . .”

“There must be a way for us to be together. There must be. All it requires is a bit of ingenuity. If we improve our fortunes, and—”

“It isn’t only the money,” he said gruffly.

Her breath stopped. “What, then?”

“We’re different, you and I. Your world . . . it isn’t the world I live in.”

“It looks similar enough to me,” she said.

“Not from where I’m standing.”

“Because you’re Indian?” She frowned. “But you’re English, too.”

“I’m both,” he said, “and neither. I don’t belong to either world. I belong nowhere.”

A lump formed in her throat. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s the truth. That’s the way it is in India for people like me. And it’s the way it is here. If you were with me, that would be your life, too.”

“You make it sound as though you’re unhappy.”

He didn’t answer her.