Page 30 of How to Wed a Courtesan

They had known each other for years, having met at the opera. Sarah was just ending her career as Lottie was beginning hers. Sarah had been in despair as to where life might cast her, with her youth having faded, and Lottie, who well understood what it felt like to be lost, took her on as a lady’s maid once she obtained her first protector. They had been together ever since, and Sarah had proved herself invaluable time and again.

‘So there’s no hope for it, then.’

Lottie’s pulse spiked, the way it always did when he came to call. Their conversations were always the same—him begging for another chance and her declining before asking him to leave.

She shot Sarah a peevish look. ‘Are you pleased?’

‘Delightfully so.’ Sarah didn’t bother to suppress her smile. ‘And, anyway, if you put him off, he’ll only come back in an hour.’

Lottie sighed.

‘You know I’m right.’

‘You’re very outspoken for a maid.’

‘You mean I’m the only one who will not mollycoddle you.’ Sarah nodded her head once, as if confirming the accuracy of her own statement. ‘I tell you what is what when you need to hear it. Like now.’

Lottie eyed her maid warily. ‘Out with it, then.’

Sarah inspected the new bouquet with exaggerated interest. ‘You get hothouse flowers once a week. I’ve never had them once in my whole life.’ She lifted her gaze to Lottie. ‘That man loves you the way every woman wishes she could be loved. Give him a chance.’

Lottie frowned. ‘You don’t understand.’

Sarah approached her and put a hand on her shoulder. ‘I took care of you, remember? I don’t understand like you do, but I know better than most.’ She lowered her hand and strode back to the doorway. ‘Some day he may stop sending flowers. Or worse...’

Lottie waited for her to finish the warning.

‘He may send them to someone else.’

Much as Lottie hated to admit it, the words made something in chest twist at the thought. Not that she would allow Sarah to know her words had affected her so deeply. The maid would truly be incorrigible if that happened.

Instead, Lottie feigned a lack of concern and waved to her maid. ‘Please have Andrews see him in.’

Chapter Ten

Lottie smoothed her hair down so many times she reminded herself of Lord Rawley. But even as she told herself to stop fidgeting, she swept her hand over her dark blue satin gown.

Confronting Evander never ceased to rattle her.

The door swung open and her heart caught in her throat as he strode in with his usual confidence. His broad shoulders were squared, his attire pristine, and he had a regal air only nobility could possess. Though he had written and sent flowers, she hadn’t seen him since the end of the season the year before last, when he’d told her he would be returning to the country with his mother.

His gaze locked on hers now, his jaw set with determination. This was the season when he’d reclaim her affection—or so he’d said in the letters he’d sent throughout his absence from London.

He stood before her for a moment, studying her with a reverence that took her breath. She remained frozen beneath those jade-green eyes, locked in the power of his observation.

‘Lottie.’ He said on an exhale, as if saying her name caused him to hurt.

And perhaps it did.

Hyacinths. Sorrow. Forgiveness. Pain.

‘Lord Westix,’ she replied.

He flinched, as though wounded. ‘Are we back to that?’

It was good to maintain the formality. For Lottie. She needed the reminder of their stations in life. He was an earl—one whose family counted on his good name. And she was a woman whose reputation would always remain tarnished. A woman whose trust had once been shattered into so many pieces that it could never again be fitted together.

He lowered himself onto the sofa and she took the chair opposite him, with the tea table between them. She needed him to feel the space between them—to realise they could never rekindle what they’d once shared. Her heart could not bear it.