Page 40 of How to Wed a Courtesan

Still there was no response.

At last he had no choice but to return home, where his birthday celebration had concluded and carriages were departing the townhouse in a steady line.

This had been his first real opportunity with Lottie since he had returned from his travels, and he had been careless. He should have stayed at her side the entire night.

He had failed her yet again.

A hard knot of despair twisted in his gut, along with the understanding that he might not be given another opportunity.

Dejected, he exited the carriage and trudged into the townhouse. The multitude of candles had all burned out, and only a few remained lit for the servants to clear away glasses and tables, casting the room into an atmosphere as dark as his mood. The floors were streaked with muddied chalk, which would be quite a feat to clean the following day. Evander would ensure the staff received a generous bonus to compensate for the effort.

‘There you are.’

Lady Westix rushed towards him, the soft light catching at the beads on her silver dress and making them shimmer. When she stopped before him, he could make out the worry creasing his mother’s face.

‘Where did you go?’ she asked.

‘Lottie left.’ He glanced back towards the doorway, as if it would be possible to see her departing.

Lady Westix sighed. ‘I know you long to be with her, my son. However...’ She pursed her lips.

‘However?’ Wariness simmered beneath the word. Surely his own mother understood how he felt, Surely she—of all people—would not castigate Lottie as the rest of the ton did.

‘When it comes to women, some wounds take a considerable amount of time to heal. Especially those that run deep.’

‘But it doesn’t mean they’ll never heal.’

‘No,’ she replied slowly, ‘it doesn’t. But it might take an extraordinary amount of patience on your part. As well as tenderness and consideration.’

‘I’m willing to do anything it takes,’ he said with finality, then softened his tone. ‘The hour is late. Come, I’ll walk you to your room.’

She gave him a grateful smile and allowed him to lead her from the empty ballroom. Their footsteps echoed around them, amid the clinking of glassware being neatly stacked.

‘Do you truly love her?’ she asked suddenly. ‘Or is this insistent need to be with her derived from guilt?’

‘It’s love,’ he answered without hesitation.

His mother stopped just before they began climbing the stairs. ‘It is not me who requires the answer, Evander. I simply want you to know for certain. Here.’ She lightly settled her hand over his heart. ‘If you love her—truly love her—I suggest you never stop trying to win her affection. For if anything can heal deep wounds, it’s love.’

A soft smile touched her lips, a new expression he’d seen her implement since his return.

Evander led his mother up the stairs, which she took one careful step at a time. She was the second person to warn him about Lottie that night. But Evander knew the extent of the love that existed between him and Lottie. They didn’t know how deep his determination that she should be his wife ran. They didn’t appreciate how far he was willing to go.

That he would stop at nothing to win Lottie back.

Chapter Twelve

The following morning Evander made his way to Lottie’s townhouse once more. This time her butler appeared at the door and showed him in.

She was waiting for him in the drawing room, wearing a white muslin gown with dark blue ribbon woven through the lace at her neckline, hem and high waistline. A similar ribbon adorned her neck, with a small cameo hanging from its centre, just under the sensual hollow of her throat.

The effect of these small notes of blue and how they made her eyes appear all the more brilliant was stunning. She was stunning.

But then she always had been.

Her hair was bound up in coils, with a single large curl that rolled over her right shoulder. Evander was struck suddenly by the urge to brush aside that curl and run his lips over the smoothness of her graceful neck, not stopping until he had kissed that delectable hollow and even lower still.

In that moment he was entirely certain that his resolve to win her back had nothing to do with the weight of his guilt at having left her for so many years. Though he did indeed feel guilty. For as he looked at her now, he knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that his love for her superseded anything that could be tossed their way. Prejudice, vitriol, being cast out from society. None of it mattered more to him than this woman.