“I am not accepting visitors today,” Eve informed Bentley, wringing her hands. Dom was downstairs and had asked to see her. The very last thing she wanted! Last night had been too humiliating to ever face him again. “Would you tell the marquess that I am indisposed?”
The butler nodded and turned to leave—
“Bentley, please wait a moment.”
Mariah lowered the ladies’ journal she’d been avidly reading—being enceinte had suddenly made her oddly domestic—and peered over the cover from across the upstairs sitting room.
Then her eyes narrowed suspiciously. That was the Mariah she knew.
When Bentley retreated into the hall to give them privacy, she asked pointedly, “Since when does the Marquess of Ellsworth call on you?”
Her shoulders sagged, and she partially dissembled, “Since he rescued me from Burton Williams’s poetry reading.”
Mariah’s expression softened. “I see.”
Eve turned toward the window, unable to bear any pity she might see on her sister’s face. Even if it accompanied concern.
After she’d fled the drawing room last night, she’d somehow convinced Mariah and Robert that they needed to leave the ball. Immediately. She was pale and shaking enough that Mariah believed that she’d truly fallen ill, so they’d taken her home before either of them learned of what happened. Thank God. Because the last thing Eve wanted to do was ruin the evening for them, not when they’d planned to share news of the baby with Papa. So she’d choked back her humiliation until she was safely at home in bed, where she could finally let the tears come.
But when Mariah learned this morning what had happened, she’d immediately come over to the townhouse to find out if Eve was all right and to hear the full story.
Well, Eve certainly wasn’t going to tell her that! But she’d admitted that she’d come upon Burton reading her love letters as last evening’s entertainment and that he was the reason she’d suddenly felt ill and needed to leave.
She’d conveniently forgotten to mention the Marquess of Ellsworth.
“When His Lordship walked into the room and saw what Burton was doing, he asked him to stop.” She shrugged to sugarcoat the truth, that she’d half expected the two men to come to blows.
“But why would he do that?”
“Because Ellsworth is a nice man. He must be here now simply out of concern.” Or because he wanted to admonish her some more for ruining his painting. Given everything that happened last night, either was a toss-up.
“Apparently so.” She heard suspicion when Mariah repeated, “Why would he do that, Eve? You two don’t even know each other.”
Oh, so very well! “We shared an interesting conversation in front of a painting in Lord Hawthorne’s gallery.” Her fingers trembled as she drew back the gauzy curtain to peer down at the street. Her heart skipped at the sight of the grand Ellsworth town coach, with its gold monogram on the door, four black matching horses, and livered tigers. Completely unlike anything Vincenzo would ever have traveled in. Or at least she’d thought so. Now, she wasn’t certain that she knew the man at all. “The marquess is an art connoisseur.”
“You’re lying,” Mariah accused. “Like a rug.”
“It isn’t what you—”
“Like a lying rug.”
Eve rolled her eyes. Her sister was becoming more and more like the Carlisle brothers with each passing day.
Already feeling guilty over hiding the truth about the studio, she inhaled a deep breath and faced her. But she couldn’t bring herself to lift her gaze from the floor. “We do know each other, actually.”
“I see.” She set the magazine down.
“Through the work I’ve been doing.” Not technically a lie. She had been working with Dom, just not the kind of charity work she’d led her family to believe.
“So all that time you’ve been spending in Chelsea—it’s been because of Ellsworth?”
“Yes,” she whispered, her eyes still fixed on the rug.
“I didn’t realize that the marquess was a hospital patron.”
“He’s not.” My! That was a lovely pattern on the carpet. How had she never noticed that before? “There was a mix-up with the painting that the marquess gave to you and Robert for your wedding.” Vagaries we not technically lies. “When I went to collect it. And then…”
“And then?”
Factual omissions weren’t lies either so much as, well, omissions. “We met. And started talking. About art.”
“But you don’t know anything about art.” Confusion colored her sister’s voice. “You failed all your art lessons at Miss Pettigrew’s.”
No, Miss Pettigrew’s School had failed her. While it might have educated her on how to be a fine lady, it had taught her nothing truly important about the world. Like what to do with a man like Dom. “I didn’t know anything, until he taught me.”
From across the room, she felt Mariah freeze. Her sister’s silence was worse than her suspicions.
Eve slowly raised her gaze from the carpet.
“He’s…” Mariah’s brow furrowed as understanding came over her. “He’s the teacher, isn’t he? The one who hasn’t noticed you as a woman.”
Her eyes dropped back to the carpet.
“The one who said you were beautiful.”
Heavens, what quality weaving! Papa had certainly gotten his money’s worth in this Aubusson.
“Evie?”
With a heavy sigh and sagging shoulders, she looked up at Mariah and admitted, “Yes. But he didn’t mean it at all like you think.”
“Oh? And how exactly does a bachelor peer not mean it to an unmarried miss?”
“Art.”
Mariah blinked. “Art?”
She blew out an exasperated sigh. “He meant that I would make a wonderful model for an artist to paint. That my eyes and face were expressive. That my hair is some special shade called Titian red.” She dismissingly waved her hand in the air in the general direction of her head, but the aggravation behind it was real. Because that was the only way Dom had noticed her. Even when he’d kissed her, he’d been kissing his model. “Beautiful for art’s sake. That’s all.”
“Good.”
The intensity of that single word surprised her. So did the cut of Mariah’s quick judgment that she agreed with Dom about Eve’s limited allure. “Good?”
“Because a man like Ellsworth will hurt you if you’re not careful.” Mariah stood and approached her, taking her shoulders in her hands. Most likely in case she needed to shake sense into her. “I’m certain he would never do so on purpose, that his intentions for you are completely honorable. But in the end, when he rejects you, the pain will be the same.”
“He’s a respectable man, Mariah.” Or at least this half of him was. She wasn’t so certain about Vincenzo.
“I know. And I wish he were a rake, because if you knew he was a rake, your heart would know well enough to leave the man alone.”
Eve wasn’t so sure about that. She’d thought him a scandalous Italian painter, and her heart had leapt itself right into his arms.
“Don’t you see?” Her sister’s expression melted into one of motherly concern. “He’s certainly flattered by the attention you pay him, perhaps even engaging in harmless flirtation.”
She bit her bottom lip. That kiss they’d shared was more than flirtation. And certainly not harmless.
“But he’s a marquess, Evie, and a highly regarded one at that.”
“Yes! So why are you—”
“Because he will never marry you.” With a worried frown, she slipped her hands up to cup Eve’s face. “Not a wealthy marquess to the daughter of a trade merchant, no matter how beautiful he thinks you.”
Her head knew that, but her foolish heart yearned for more. “You married the son of a duke,” Eve reminded her.
“The second son. And the current duke’s reputation isn’t exactly sterling, which was why Trent was able to marry the niece of one of his tenants for love. But Ellsworth…” Her shoulders sagged in sympathy as she said quietly, “He might enjoy talking you and spending time with you, but in the end, he’ll marry the daughter of a peer because of the respect her position in society will bring him. In your heart, you know that.”
Her chest panged with a hollow ache. “I know,” she breathed out, unable to find her voice beneath that harsh truth. Whatever special relationship she and Dom had shared was now over. For many, many reasons. “But I wish…” She didn’t have the heart to finish the sentence.
A flash of grief passed over Mariah’s face before she could hide it by placing a kiss to Eve’s forehead.
“You will find your prince, I promise you,” Mariah assured her. “Don’t give up just yet.”
“Just don’t expect him to be Dominick Mercer?” Somehow she managed to choke out a small laugh at the same time she fought back tears.
Mariah gave Eve’s shoulder a parting squeeze before crossing to the door. “Bentley,” she called out, “would you please tell the marquess that Miss Winslow is indisposed today and not accepting callers?”
He nodded, thankfully not glancing in Eve’s direction, and left to convey her message.
Eve stared after him, fighting down the urge to run downstairs to see Dom. One last time.
“I know this is painful, but this is the right decision,” Mariah assured her.
Eve gave a jerking nod. The right decision to prevent a broken heart.
So why did it feel as if her heart had just shattered into a million pieces?