Page 61 of How to Wed a Courtesan

Sarah smirked. ‘Precisely.’

‘I fear returning will recall all my previous anger,’ Lottie said, twisting her hands in her lap. ‘If that rage should resurface, I don’t know that my heart could ever open again.’

‘You owe it to yourself to find out.’ Sarah swept the brush down the full length of Lottie’s hair. ‘And you owe it to him. That man has been loyal to you for six years. He has returned time and again, no matter how many times you push him away.’

Lottie exhaled on a long, deep sigh. ‘You’re meddlesome—do you know that?’

‘You’re welcome, lovey.’ Sarah grinned at her in the mirror.

Lottie glanced at her maid over her shoulder. ‘Please bring me some stationery.’

Sarah set the brush down with a smidgen too much delight. ‘With pleasure.’

Despite Sarah’s happiness at her decision, Lottie’s pen still hesitated over the parchment. Whatever happened at the cottage stood either to fully unite them or tear them apart for ever. There would be nothing in between.

The wealth in Evander’s accounts had grown exponentially. His investment with the mine had been sound.

Granted, he shouldn’t care about money at this point. But that was the thing about having once been without a fortune—one was always in terrible fear of losing it again.

The return gained from the mines, and all his other investments, was security. It would ensure his mother was always well cared for and that he would never have to leave Lottie again. Not that he would ever make such an error.

Lily.

The little name had become something of a chant in his mind, like a sorrowful cry, or even a prayer of sorts. He leaned back in his seat and sipped his brandy, though the liquor did scant good to ease the burden in his chest.

Going to the cottage had been a recurring thought as well. He’d come to the conclusion that if Lottie would not accompany him, he would go alone. If nothing else, he owed it to Lily.

He downed another swallow of brandy.

‘Evander, you wished to see me?’

His mother entered the room, elegant in an emerald silk gown that made her eyes look as bright as the gem. Her hair, once gold and now more silver, was twisted back from her regal face. She was thinner, after having been ill, but just as strong as ever.

Her gaze skimmed his open account book. ‘Am I correct in presuming you haven’t called me in here to discuss your investments?’

‘You are.’

‘Thank heavens.’ Using her gold-topped cane—a new device, following her ailment—she lowered herself to a chair.

‘Shall I send for some tea?’

‘I also presumed your refreshments would be limited to libations no woman ought to consume, and took the liberty of ordering myself a tray.’ A knock sounded at the door and she turned with a smile. ‘Ah, there it is now.’

After they each had a cup of tea in front of them, his unadulterated and hers with two fat lumps of sugar, they could finally settle to the matter at hand.

‘When I returned home for Father’s funeral, did I mention my engagement to Lottie?’ He lifted the cup of piping hot liquid to his lips. That was how he liked it best—while it was only tolerably sippable.

‘You did not,’ Lady Westix said with certainty. ‘I know this because I was shocked when you mentioned it upon your return from travelling abroad.’

He deflated somewhat, at this confirmation of how terribly he had fallen short on his commitment to Lottie...

His mother took a sip of her tea, swallowed it and set the cup back in its saucer with a delicate clink. ‘Surely that was not all you wished to ask me?’

This was the most difficult part. But he had to know that there wouldn’t have been any alternative available.

He shifted in his seat. ‘If a woman of little means were to have come to you while I was away on my travels, stating that she was my fiancée and required assistance, would you have aided her?’

‘I would like to say that I would.’ Lady Westix stirred her tea thoughtfully. ‘But, cold-hearted as it may be, I would more likely have turned her out.’