Evelyn experienced the faintest flicker of disquiet.
Between the hours of one and three, visitors dropped in regularly. She’d become used to welcoming them, everyone from Lord Gresham to Mr. Fillgrave. But Stephen was never among her callers. Indeed, since his acrimonious last visit, she hadn’t done more than exchange passing pleasantries with him in Rotten Row.
“Mr. Connaught.” Setting aside her teacup, she rose from the sofa. Her topaz-colored silk poplin skirt rustled softly over her petticoat and crinoline as she stood. Paired with a Garibaldi shirt of creamy white muslin, the ensemble was—thanks to Ahmad—as comfortable as it was beautiful.
She couldn’t wear any of her clothes without thinking of him.
He’d been right to say they would give her confidence.
Indeed, though she hadn’t seen him in weeks, he was always with her. There, in the seams that shaped her waist and the sleeves that skimmed her arms. In the low neckline of an evening dress and the elegantly gored fabric of her skirts. Making her feel strong. Beautiful.
Stephen’s gaze swept over her in frank appreciation. “I bought a new gig,” he said. “I’ve come to ask if you would accompany me for a drive.”
She was taken aback by the invitation. “I’m not certain that’s a good idea.”
“It’s an open carriage. There’s nothing objectionable in you being seen with me in it.”
“I don’t doubt the propriety of it. I simply wonder if it’s wise—”
He stepped forward, an expression of entreaty on his face. “I’d be grateful for the opportunity to speak with you in private.”
She gave a sudden start. “It isn’t about Fenny and your brother?”
“Yes,” he said. “And, er, other matters.”
Evelyn pressed a hand to her midsection. As far as she knew, her sister had safely returned to France. That didn’t mean Fenny was free of danger. A pregnant woman was always at risk. Especially one living among strangers so far from home.
“Very well,” she said. “Give me a moment to fetch my jacket and hat.”
“I’ll meet you in the square,” Stephen said.
In short order, he was handing her up into his new gig. It was a smart vehicle, with a glossy black-painted body and bright yellow wheels. Two matching black horses danced in the traces.
“They’re very elegant,” she remarked as she slipped her spectacles into the pocket of her skirt.
“And priced accordingly.” Hopping up onto the seat, Stephen gathered the reins and gave the horses the office to start. “I daresay I could have got the entire rig for less if I’d bought it in Sussex.”
“Why didn’t you?” she asked. “I thought you’d have returned there weeks ago.”
He guided the horses from the square. Their steel-shod hooves clattered noisily on the cobblestones. “As did I.”
Evelyn settled her wide-brimmed hat more firmly on her head. “Have you had news of them?”
“Of my brother? Yes. He’s gone back to France if you can believe it. And your sister with him.”
“Oh?” She made an effort to sound as if this was news to her. “It’s for the best, I expect.”
“For your sister, perhaps. For Anthony? I wonder. Sometimes I think he must be mad.” He clucked to the horses, urging them into a trot. “You’ll be glad, in any case.”
“I am glad.”
“Not for them. For yourself. You were concerned that your sister might harm your prospects.” There was an undercurrent to his words, just shy of mockery.
She shot him a look.
“I didn’t fully comprehend you at the time,” he said. “But I’ve since come to understand.”
“Have you?” She was doubtful. He didn’t sound very understanding.
“I won’t claim I wasn’t surprised,” he admitted. “A lack of imagination on my part.”
That, Evelyn could well believe. “You never saw me as anything more than a comrade.”
“A comrade. Yes. We were, weren’t we?”
“I thought us friends,” she said. “Until we weren’t.”
“You can’t blame me for that. You know how my father is.”
She did, but it was no excuse for Stephen’s own behavior. “Your father wasn’t anywhere near the village three years ago when you cut me dead in the street.”
“Three years ago, I was a child.”
“You were one and twenty. Nearly the same age as I was.” She rested a hand on the side of the gig, gripping it to keep from being jostled against him. “There’s no point in arguing over the past. What’s done is done.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “Let’s put that unpleasantness behind us. It makes no difference to our future.”
“What do you mean our—” She broke off, turning sharply in her seat. “You’re going in the wrong direction! Hyde Park is that way.”
“We’re not going to Hyde Park.” He guided the horses through traffic. “There’s something I want to show you on the other side of town. It’s but fifteen minutes away. The drive will give us time to talk.”
“What is it you want to show me?” she asked.
Stephen looked straight ahead as he drove. He didn’t answer her. Not directly. “I had no inkling you were in London. The day I saw you riding in Rotten Row, I almost didn’t recognize you. You’ve changed since coming here.”
She watched the street flash by in growing apprehension. “Stephen—”
“I’m not criticizing you. You must know I find these changes appealing. It’s part of the reason I’ve stayed in town. And we’ve always been comrades, as you say. Compatible in terms of interests and temperament.”
Evelyn’s blood ran cold.
Good lord.
He was going to propose to her.
All those years of waiting and hoping. Dreaming that he’d one day ask her to marry him. And now the moment was here, and all she wanted to do was leap out of the carriage and flee.
“Please don’t say anything else,” she said. “Truly. It’s better if you—”
“I know you’re upset that we’ve grown apart these past years. But that can’t matter in the scheme of things. You must think of your place in the world. You’ll want to be comfortable. And you’ll want Hephaestus looked after. That much I can do for you.”