Page 93 of How to Wed a Courtesan

‘Is it heavy?’ she asked, after a long moment of burning curiosity.

Evander shook his head. ‘Not terribly.’ They rounded that familiar corner. ‘Do you want to stop and open it?’

She laughed. ‘Am I so obvious?’

‘I know that if I received a mysterious box, I would want to know its contents.’ He raised his brows.

‘Mysterious box, indeed.’ She laughed again. ‘It simply fell behind some others. As Reverend Richards said.’

Evander held the box out and Lottie lifted off the lid. ‘Just a peek,’ she conceded.

A quick poke about revealed an old christening gown that had gone yellow with age—most likely hers—a wooden rattle and lock of dark hair tied with pink ribbon. She did not recall them from her youth, but it was just the sort of thing her mother would have kept.

Evander peered into the depths. ‘There’s another box at the bottom.’

Lottie moved aside the full skirt of the christening gown and discovered there was indeed a smaller box. Something heavy and solid shifted about inside, and it was tied with a bit of twine and labelled with a familiar name.

The Duke of Somersville

Lottie frowned. ‘This is odd. It’s for the Duke of Somersville. Not Charles, obviously. His father must have been Duke when this box was placed with these other items. Though it must have been done so by mistake.’

‘Why do you say that?’ Evander asked.

‘Father was meticulous.’ Lottie smiled at the memory. ‘All these items were placed together. He would never have combined them. Perhaps this was one that had belonged to my mother.’ She put down the box, careful not to disturb whatever it contained, and replaced the lid. ‘We’ll give it to Charles when we return to London. It may hold something of value for him.’

‘Aren’t you the least bit curious?’ Evander asked as they walked on.

‘About the box for the Duke of Somersville?’

‘Yes.’

Lottie slid him a glance. ‘From what I recall, the old Duke’s adventure club had enough backbiting between its members that I scarcely want to see what is involved with this.’

Evander gave a laugh, knowing of his own woes with his father and Charles’s from the damn club. ‘That is an excellent point, my love.’

She put the twine-bound parcel from her mind as they continued on the path. Her steps slowed as Huntly Manor came into view. Their time there had been like something out of a fantasy tale. There had been no gossips to disparage her, no associates to cast their disdain at Evander for having married her. For the first time since the cottage, she had truly been happy.

She didn’t want it to end.

‘We don’t have to return,’ Evander said.

Lottie hadn’t realised she’d stopped walking until he spoke. ‘I beg your pardon?’ she said.

‘We aren’t so terribly far from London.’ He looked at the estate with the same wistful joy that warmed her heart when she regarded their home. ‘If I was needed for an important vote in Parliament I could be there within five hours. All other matters could be handled through the post.’

Lottie’s heart raced at his words. ‘What are you saying?’

He turned to her, the box still in his hands. ‘I’m saying I should be amenable to remaining at Huntly if you are, my love.’

‘Are you in earnest?’ she asked, breathless with the excitement of what he said.

‘I’ve never cared for London.’ He smirked. ‘Too many gossips, too many people who believe themselves better than others. I was only ever there for you.’

‘Truly?’ she asked, unable to believe her ears.

He laughed. ‘Truly.’ He bent to set the box down and pulled her into his arms. ‘Let us retire from London and enjoy our life here.’

She nestled into his embrace, revelling in his strength and his familiar scent, beyond grateful for this husband who understood her so well.