Always a Maiden (The Belles of Beak Street #5)(43)

“This might be a good spot,” she said. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d sat on the ground. Probably when she’d been a child. Her mother would no doubt say it was a plebeian activity—something a lady should not do.

Evan stepped over the rail and strode toward her. He gave a look around before unfurling the blanket and straightening it out on the ground. It was larger than a carriage blanket if not quite the size one would use on a bed. He gestured for her to sit and held out his hand to help her. “My lady.”

She thanked him as she knelt than rolled to sit with her legs tucked up beside her.

He moved completely around the blanket to the farthest side and dropped to sit on the opposite corner. Disappointment washed through her. He had been closer when sitting in a separate chair in the conservatory or in the assembly rooms at the Cyprian’s ball.

“It is strange to be here without any other people about,” he observed.

Susanah didn’t like coming to the park during the fashionable crush. All the horses scared her. “Yes, the park seems bigger. When everyone is here, it almost seems too small to contain the beau monde.”

“So are you still terrified of riding?” He removed paper-wrapped food from a sack and placed the items between them.

There was far more than cheese and wafers this time, but it wasn’t as if she was still on bread and water. She probably wouldn’t be able to do a meal justice as her stomach felt tight. “Perhaps only daunted now.”

His gaze jerked up to her face and his eyes narrowed.

She shrugged. “It is an improvement. I thank you. I’m not certain how it will help me in catching an appropriate husband, but it is better that I know I won’t expire from fright if I should have to ride.”

His eyes narrowed slightly but stayed intently focused on her. “And this hunt for a husband?” His voice sounded tight. “How is that coming along?”

She looked down. Everything inside her fell. “Please, let us not spoil the night with talk of that.”

“So not well,” he surmised.

“How could it go well when my mother corrects me every time I step outside the bounds of what she believes is properly subdued behavior?” Besides, it had been decided for her. Unless a miracle happened and some suitable gentleman stepped out of the woodwork, she would marry Lord Farringate. He was an earl, he would take her away from her parents’ home, and she could hope the union would result in children she could love in the hour or so a day that it would be acceptable to interact with them.

“Because following your mother’s dictates have produced such spectacular results.” His words were painful pricks.

“You don’t understand,” she objected. As the only child of a marquess, she had a duty to marry well. Her wishes weren’t terribly important in the scheme of things.

“But I do. I think I may be the only man who has been allowed to see the real you.”

And where had that got her? Twice tonight he’d backed away from her embrace. He’d probably only kissed her to distract her from her fear of riding. This man who flirted outrageously with his dance partners, and flitted from lover to lover wasn’t the least bit interested in her. The weave of the blanket blurred.

“Susanah,” he said with a patience that made her feel patronized and corrected.

Her temper fired. She had enough of that from her parents. He knew her, perhaps better than anyone, but she knew so little about him.

He began, “Your mother—”

“I don’t know the first thing about you,” she interrupted. “Lord Hull said you are leaving town.”

His eyebrows drew together. “I am.”

“When were you planning on telling me?” She was appalled the words came out of her mouth. She didn’t have any right to know what he was doing or where he was going or if the woman he danced with at Almack’s was his latest conquest. She smoothed out a wrinkle in her skirt and kept smoothing long after the material was flattened. Her mother’s criticism about fidgeting bounced around her brain.

He wasn’t answering, which was answer enough. She wasn’t important enough to him to be informed of his comings and goings.

“I have delayed leaving town longer than I should have,” he said finally.

Her gaze jerked to his. “What?”

He took a deep breath. “I had already told my uncle that I would be joining him to take up my duties as his steward before you asked me to teach you about passion.”

Her muscles tensed and the only word she could hear was steward echoing in her head. Her world seemed to tilt and she reached out to steady herself. A steward was a working man, a servant. It had never occurred to her that Evan would become a servant of sorts. She knew—well everyone knew—that his uncle supported him. But that it was an employment contract made her feel slightly ill. Why was he accepted at Almack’s if he was working for his uncle? It didn’t make sense and left her feeling as though she wasn’t on steady ground. It occurred to her she should respond. “Why? Is he ill?”

“He is getting older, and that was the bargain I made.”

“Oh.” She supposed it made perfect sense. His uncle’s support in exchange for Evan’s labor. “Lord Hull said your expectations were not as dire as is thought and that I should ask you about them.”