Evie’s emotions, after the upheaval, were heading downward into quiet unhappiness. “I suppose you did what you thought best. Hayden needed to tell me himself, and if you hadn’t dictated what to say, he’d have prevaricated and pretended, and made our parting my fault.”
A woman breaking an engagement could be as scandalous as her obtaining a divorce, depending on the reason. The woman could be labeled a jilt as well and criticized for walking away from a perfectly good match.
Jamie gathered Evie closer. “I’ve bricked myself into a corner, haven’t I? I’ve let myself fall in love with you, and you never want to love anyone again.”
“I never said I didn’t want to love again,” Evie objected, then subsided. “It’s simply easier if I don’t.”
“I won’t presume to speak for this good man, Mr. Stanfield. But would he like it if you refused to love? If it were me, I’d be a bit put out that you used my memory to keep yourself from feeling. As if it were my fault.”
Evie frowned uncomfortably and laid her head back on Jamie’s shoulder. It was so easy to rest against him.
“No, you should not presume, but I admit I hadn’t thought of it that way. Still, I doubt Ethan would want me to forget all about him and fly to someone else.”
“If it has been, what, four years since you left Cambridge? Then you haven’t exactly flown anywhere.”
“That is true.” Evie sighed. “He was the kindest man I knew.”
Jamie brushed a kiss to her forehead. “I really am so sorry, lass. Thank you for telling me.”
“I’ve never told anyone before.” It had felt good to speak about it, as though she’d finally found someone she could unburden herself to, someone who’d understand.
“I am honored, then.” His voice vibrated beneath her ear.
“Perhaps I told you because I know you’ve lost friends,” Evie went on.
“I have.” Jamie cleared his throat. “Never a lover, but very close friends. One in a battle he shouldn’t have been fighting.”
“I’m sorry.” Evie touched his chest. “It’s a hard thing.”
“Aye, it is.”
They descended into silence once more. In that room, with its quiet tranquility, against the unshakable Jamie, Evie at last found solace.
She had hoped that by marrying Hayden, she might gain a sort of peace, but Evie now realized she’d deluded herself. She’d liked Hayden because he was different from Ethan. No danger of losing her heart and betraying her first love.
Jamie was nothing like Ethan either. Jamie walked through life with the confidence that everyone would either get out of his way or become his devoted friend. Evie had watched such things happen already.
Ethan had been quietly good, self-effacing even. No one much noticed him, and no one had a bad word to say about him.
Losing him had been the hardest thing Evie had experienced. Hayden’s betrayal was a tiny bite compared to that.
Evie realized, as she leaned into Jamie’s strength, that losing this man would hurt her as well. A hurt that would take an age to heal.
“We’re both very sad at the moment,” Jamie said. “But what I’ve learned, love, is that it’s fine to be sad. Those we lost deserve to be remembered, and mourned. But it is fine to be happy as well. One doesn’t cancel out the other.”
“Very philosophical.”
“But true.” Evie felt his Jamie’s in her hair again. “Do you want to go back with Belle? Or stay and meet the family? At least my mother and dad? I must tell you that when Belle arrived looking for me, Mum rather insisted she bring you here.”
Chapter 21
Jamie waited while Evie went silent. Of course, she wouldn’t want to stay. She’d prefer retreating to Gavina’s and Belle’s lodgings, or might even ask to be conveyed to her parents’ home in Bedfordshire.
She hadn’t wept about Hayden, or Ethan, whom she’d loved and lost, though Jamie had heard the deep sorrow in her words. Evie’s eyes were dry, but not because she felt nothing. She’d been cried out.
His fury at Atherton rose anew. How could the man not have realized what Evie carried inside her? Jamie hadn’t either, or he wouldn’t have blundered about like an ox, but Atherton had known her a year. He hadn’t seen what was behind Evie’s facade, because he hadn’t bothered to look.
“Very well,” Evie startled Jamie by saying. “I don’t mind meeting your mother and father.”
Jamie leapt to his feet, extending his hand to help her rise. “Shall we put on a brave face?” he asked her as she stood. “Don’t worry, they aren’t as frightening as everyone says. They’ll be angry at me, not you.”
Evie moved to a mirror and tried to smooth her hair. She looked perfectly beautiful with it awry, but Jamie had grown up with sisters and knew the futility of telling her that.
“No one should be angry at you,” she said, turning to him. “Except me, of course.”
Jamie conceded this. “Aye, well. I will hope that maybe in time you’ll forgive me.”
“I have much to think about,” she said softly.
“You do.” Jamie wouldn’t push her, as much as he wanted to. Atherton was an ass, and she was well rid of him, but Jamie knew he could not simply leap in and win her. The situation was more complex than that.
He wasn’t certain that meeting Mackenzies would help, but his mother had been adamant.
Jamie led Evie from the sitting room and along the hall to the larger drawing room at the front of the house, where the few soirees Beth held, with Aunt Izzy’s help, took place. Most nights in this house were quiet, which suited Jamie. He found it restful. When life grew too arduous, his home was a refuge.
Jamie’s entire family had gathered in the drawing room, each pretending to be engrossed in reading or embroidery or the piano—a larger version of the Pleyel piano in the small sitting room. Only Jamie’s father was truly absorbed, turning his mind to whatever mathematics equations he was writing at lightning speed at the desk.
Even Ian’s valet, Curry, had contrived to be there. He held a tray of tea things, which one of the maids could have brought in, but Curry, loyal to Ian for decades, was as nosy as any Mackenzie.
Beth rose as Jamie and Evie entered, putting aside her embroidery. Mum hated embroidery, another indication that each person had quickly feigned an activity when they heard him and Evie approach.
“May I present Miss McKnight.” Jamie led Evie forward, lifting her hand like a swain at an old-fashioned ball. “You may all bow or curtsy as you see fit.”
“Don’t be rude, Jamie.” Beth came to them, a true smile on her face. “Welcome, my dear. My son might be flippant, but we are so very glad to meet you. And so sorry it had to be in this fashion.”
Beth’s glance at Jamie bore the barest hint of recrimination, but Jamie knew he’d be in for a lecture later. For now, Beth locked her arm through Evie’s and guided her into the room.
Megan had leapt up from the piano stool, her face wreathed in smiles. No recrimination from his sweet little sister, at least.
“How do you do, Miss McKnight?” Megan extended her hand. “I’m Megan, the youngest. Belle has told me about you, and good thing, because I have heard nothing at all from Jamie.”