Page 82 of How to Wed a Courtesan

It was a curious thing, how his mother could often appear so frail, with her slender frame and delicate, papery thin skin. Yet at other times, such as now, she could possess such a fire within her.

‘And besides,’ she said. ‘I’ve found other friends—such as the Dowager Countess of Dalton—who are far more entertaining and enjoy my company.’

He got to his feet and kissed the top of his mother’s head.

She looked up at him. ‘What was that for?’

‘For being the best mother any earl could ever ask for.’

‘Well, then, it’s a good thing you’re not a duke, or I might have fallen short.’ Her eyes twinkled.

He chuckled and gently touched her hand before leaving her to her book.

Though his mother had played down her broken friendship, he was certain it had indeed hurt her. She and Lady Stetton had been friends for as far back as Evander could remember.

They had both known there would be trials to be faced after his marriage to Lottie, and they were seeing them realised now. While they had braced themselves for exactly this kind of retaliation, he knew well how Lottie would take news of their difficulties.

And so, above all else, he resolved to make certain Lottie did not, under any circumstances, find out.

Chapter Twenty-Five

As the days pressed onward, Evander was grateful to see Lottie remained blissfully unaware of what had transpired with the friends and associates of himself and his mother. And at night he held Lottie in his arms as they continued to make up for the six years that had kept their love at bay.

In the meantime, Huntly Manor was being prepared for their upcoming stay of a fortnight. Lottie’s staff from her townhouse had been sent there, to organise its cleaning and supervise some much-needed renovations. The process was taking longer than anticipated, but the house would be ready in a week’s time.

In the meantime, Eleanor was to host a ball at Somersville Place—one of the few she and Charles bothered with, given their frequent trips abroad. And although the invitations did not state its purpose, Eleanor told Evander it was to be a celebration of his union to Lottie.

Which meant there was no choice but to accept happily.

It would be their first official social event as man and wife. Fortunately, the attendees would be made up of friends, ensuring prejudice would not be able to infringe upon their enjoyment.

While Evander knew it was only a matter of time before they encountered people who would not welcome Lottie, he would have her rest easy in ignorance for as long as possible.

Time flew by when one was in love, and the night of the ball arrived swiftly. Lottie was a sight to behold in the new sapphire necklace and earbobs he’d given her, with a Spitalfields silk gown in patterns of the same vivid, deep blue, trimmed with slashes of white satin at her sleeves. Her most lovely adornment, however, was her smile—the one that had not left her lips since they’d exchanged vows.

Upon their arrival at Somersville Place, Evander’s mother was introduced by the caller first, as the Dowager Countess of Westix, which meant he and Lottie were next. She stiffened at his side.

‘No need be nervous,’ he said softly. ‘You’re a countess.’

She glanced anxiously towards him, her smile faltering, and he could read the concern in her eyes. He covered her hand where it rested at the crook of his elbow.

‘You are surrounded by friends here, my love,’ he reminded her.

The caller announced them as the Earl and Countess of Westix and they strode into the room. Everyone turned their attention towards them and applause broke out, echoing over the polished hardwood floors and high ceilings.

To his delight, Lottie broke into a wide smile as she recognised so many of the faces around them.

‘They’re here to celebrate us,’ he said in her ear.

Those standing on the dance floor moved aside as the first notes of a waltz began.

Evander extended a hand to his wife, ‘May I have this dance, my love?’

She put her gloved hand into his and he led her out to the dance floor. He slid his hand around her slender waist, holding her as closely as one could hold one’s wife during the waltz.

‘Have I told you how beautiful you look?’ he asked as they began to twirl across the floor together.

‘Only a dozen times.’