“Let’s just say for argument’s sake that we did marry,” she began. Her face was so serious, he could almost see her labeling and organizing thoughts, puzzling a way through this conversation. Hope bloomed, even though he knew odds were against them finding middle ground. “Would you still treat me that way? Including me in estate matters, I mean.”
Ethan squeezed her hand. “’Tis what you’ve trained for.”
Lottie studied him. “Easy as that? No arguments or masculine posturing?”
“Where I come from, the women work as hard as the men. I’d no’ expect you tae sit and lounge your days away unless you wish it, lass. You’re no’ the type. But even if you changed your plans tae include me—which is a big if—the earl hates me.”
She sagged back in her chair. “Yes, he does.”
He pursed his lips and nodded. There wasn’t much more to say. The earl was her last remaining relative. Ethan would not be a wedge between them. Having no family of his own, he couldn’t ask her to alienate hers.
The weak evening light outside didn’t reach the far wall of the library, where the fire roared near their chairs. The dim atmosphere, warmed by the flames, created the perfect scene for seduction. If they came together this evening, the passion would be colored with desperation, given the reality of their situation. But stealing one last taste of her was a temptation impossible to resist. He rose from his chair, reaching for her despite the knowledge that goodbye loomed. “Lass, we only have—”
Lottie had already lifted her chin for a kiss they both wanted when Agatha burst into the room. “We’re hosting a ball—a grand event celebrating your engagement and the completion of the construction. All those who flee Town in the summer will regret missing it. If invitations go out by the end of the week, a few families might find their way back to London early. We only have a few weeks before Parliament sits again anyway.”
Lottie shook her head at her godmother and shot him a look. “Isn’t an engagement ball deceptive? Not to mention expensive?”
A ball sounded like a lot of fuss to raise expectations he knew would be dashed—along with his foolish hopes that somehow he and Lottie might create a future together. But if Lady Agatha wanted a ball, she’d get a ball. That woman was a force of nature.
“Darling girl, never discuss finances in mixed company. Terribly crass, love. Since I am your guardian while you are in London, celebrating the engagement will let everyone know the family supports this match.”
“But Father won’t actually—”
Lady Agatha swept out of the room as quickly as she’d come, leaving Ethan and Lottie staring after her. A few moments before, the air had been thick with possibility, then the harsh sting of reality. Now silence fell, each retreating to their thoughts—someplace the other couldn’t follow.
With a tight smile, she let go of his hand. “Good night, Ethan.”
Her book lay abandoned on the chair. Plucking the book from the seat cushion, Ethan glanced at the title. Fanny Hill. Of course his curious lass would find an erotic novel.
The fire crackled, the only sound besides his breathing in the library. The room had felt cozy and comfortable. Now it just felt lonely. Over the years, the books, with their smell of ink and leather, had been friends enough. He had to wonder if he could return to being content without her sitting in the chair beside his.
Chapter Nineteen
Seeing Ethan again sent a thrill through her. She and Agatha had returned from Woodrest a week before, but Ethan had returned to Town only this morning. There’d been work to do, as Ethan had explained in one of the letters he’d sent this week. Connor had put pressure on him to stay at Woodrest, citing the myriad obligations of the estate. She hated to think his duties were falling to the wayside, but seeing him again felt like a physical relief to an ache she’d been only half-aware of carrying.
The open carriage meant she didn’t need to bring Darling on this outing, but it also limited the kind of greeting she could offer. They’d been gloriously free at Woodrest, and by comparison, London felt like a cage. It felt like he hadn’t touched her in years instead of days. His eyes were admiring when he helped her into the carriage, and she was grateful she’d chosen a new dress for the outing. Vivid green, trimmed with embroidered leaves and birds, the design had arrived the day before from Madame Bouvier. “You’re beautiful, lass. ’Tis good tae see you.”
She bit her bottom lip and stared at his mouth. What she would give for a few moments of privacy, instead of a greeting on the public street. “It’s good to see you too. If we were alone…”
“Aye,” he said, his voice husky. He cleared his throat. “Gunther’s for an ice?”
“I may be a lunatic to want ices when it’s so cold, but yes.”
As they headed toward the fashionable tea shop, she stared at Ethan’s profile, drinking in his features. Goodness, she’d missed him. Their last conversation in the library had played over and over in her head since she’d returned. They’d left things with a feeling of hopelessness for the future, and it didn’t sit well.
The drive was short, not nearly enough time for the jumble of words that wanted to fall off her tongue. Yes, she craved the taste of him, but more than anything, she’d longed for her friend—hearing his voice, making him laugh, seeing him interacting with his tenants. It seemed simplest to say, “I missed you. Thank you for writing.”
“I missed you as well. The whole week, I didn’ stop thinking about you. Do you mind if we take a few wrong turns? I’d like tae talk privately.”
At her nod, they made two turns and headed back toward the parks.
Ethan’s side pressed against hers, hip to hip. Their arms brushed every time he signaled to
