Page 122 of The Siren of Sussex

His business with Fenny and Anthony.

Evelyn prayed Stephen wouldn’t find them. With luck, the moment Fenny received the check, she and Anthony would be on the next steamer back to France.

“We shan’t keep you from it.” Evelyn urged Hephaestus on, dismissing Stephen with a curt bow of her head. “Good day.”

Stephen turned in his saddle to watch them as they passed.

“Does his remaining in London pose any difficulty for you?” Stella inquired when they were out of earshot.

“Not anymore,” Evelyn said. “Not unless he’s indiscreet about my sister.”

“Would he be?”

“Only out of carelessness. He doesn’t take the idea of my having a season very seriously.” It was a lowering thought, but one Evelyn had come to accept. “He’s never thought of me as a pretty girl who might appeal to a suitor.”

“He’s thinking of you that way now, I wager.”

“He can think what he likes. I have no interest in him any longer.”

“Truly? He’s not unhandsome. He rather reminds me of those guileless, faired-haired young heroes in Julia’s novels.”

“Stephen is no hero. A hero doesn’t abandon a lady when she’s at her worst. And he doesn’t humiliate her for three years by pretending she doesn’t exist.” Evelyn grimaced. “Enough about my tedious problems. What about you? Is there nothing you need sorting out this season?”

“Hmm. You could find me a respectable beau for starters. One of your young castoffs, perhaps?”

“I haven’t any castoffs, young or otherwise. At the ball, nearly every man I danced with was in his dotage.”

“You’re faring better than I am. Only look at how the gentlemen stare at you. You’re drawing all of their eyes. And that fellow isn’t in his dotage. Nor is that one on the liver chestnut. Ugh. He’s positively leering.”

Evelyn registered the men’s stares as surely as she always did when she entered the park. It made less of an impression now, especially in light of her feelings for Ahmad. “It’s Hephaestus they’re admiring—and my riding costume. When I commissioned it, I meant it to attract attention.”

Stella smiled. “It’s not your riding costume, you silly creature. It’s you. No habit can make a lady desirable if she isn’t already.”

“Mr. Malik’s habits can.” Evelyn felt an odd tightness in her chest to mention him. The same oppressive weight that had been there ever since she and Ahmad had parted last night.

He hadn’t even deigned to kiss her goodbye before she’d stepped out of the brougham. She feared he might never kiss her again.

But he’d squeezed her hand.

And his voice had deepened in that way of his, making heat pool low in her belly.

He did want her. He’d said so himself.

The rest was up to her.

“His designs bring out the very best in whoever wears them,” she said. “It’s a sort of magic he has.”

“Perhaps I should commission one for myself,” Stella said. “And one of his ball gowns, too, while I’m at it.”

Evelyn brightened. “Oh, you should. He’ll make something beautiful for you, I know it.”

Stella’s smile turned quizzical. “You have a great deal of faith in him.”

“Not without cause.” Evelyn was quiet for several seconds before admitting, “It means everything to me that his business should succeed.”

Stella nudged Locket closer to Hephaestus. “Why should you care?”

Warmth infiltrated Evelyn’s words, imbuing them with unspoken emotion. “Because,” she said, “I think him the best gentleman in the world.”