Her mother brightened. “Well,” she said on an exuberant sigh. “I believe Lord Ponsby shall be here shortly. Wear the dark blue carriage dress, it complements your complexion quite nicely, and today is the day if I am not mistaken.”
“It is but an invitation to a picnic with his sisters.” Evie ardently hoped after her honesty at last night’s ball, he would only be open to friendship.
“An invitation that involves family reveals his deeper intentions, and we must act with alacrity and secure him. You must also find a delicate way to indicate you will be in Hampshire soon and will call upon his father. Gentlemen admire such dedication to duty.”
Exasperation rushed through Evie. “Mother, I have no intention of answering favorably to his offer if he shall make one.”
Slow outrage dawned in the countess’s eyes. “You will accept, young lady. This household cannot afford your stubborn nature any longer.”
“Lord Ponsby and I do not suit.”
“You dismiss his good and agreeable nature.”
She glanced down into the steaming teacup. “And his coffers?”
“Do not be so vulgar, but it does not hurt your circumstances that he has over fifty thousand pounds a year.”
“I do not care about his wealth, Mamma.”
“You will accept his offer when it comes, Evie.”
“Mamma, please, how can I marry the viscount when I love another?”
“Love?” she scoffed. “You know nothing of love. Love is doing one’s duty to the betterment of the family as a whole; it is not about the selfish desires you possess for that disgusting reprobate.”
Anger flashed through her, and she lifted her gaze to her mother. “Lord Westfall is not a reprobate. He has only acknowledged his daughter, which makes him more honorable than any gentleman I know.”
“She is a bastard, and he now has no connection with his estimable family!”
Evie flinched. “Many men of the ton have illegitimate issue.” Everyone was aware Richard’s father refused to speak with his own son for doing the unimaginable—acknowledging his bastard so that all of society knew of her existence. The rift had been a topic of scandal for months.
“His daughter was left to suffer, she was neglected with an indifferent education, and may have ended up in the poor house.” For months, Evie had ignored the whispers of society condemning him and had remained silent when her mother joined forces with the other ladies. “She is a gentleman’s daughter and has been given the opportunity she should be due. He should be much admired, not disparaged.”
Her mother stiffened with righteous fury. “Gentlemen do not claim their by-blows and flaunt them in their betters’ faces. Even if the marquess had wanted you, your father and I would not countenance any match that would damage our good name with lurid speculations.”
Even if the marquess had wanted you…
“Oh Mamma, how can you think such cruel thoughts?” The pain that pierced her heart was numbing. “I have never given the marquess a chance to be swayed by his charms.” She suppressed the memory of the kiss he had pressed against her lips years ago or the improper way he had caressed her skin in the conservatory. It had been brief, but he had branded her and left her in a ruined shamble. Unable to help herself, her fingers drifted to her lips and ghosted over them.
“This is my final warning. You will forget Lord Westfall, or I will ensure he will never be accepted into another drawing room in all of London.”
Her mother’s threat was empty. “Richard has become one of the most powerful men in all of England, and his wealth rivals his father’s own. He may be resented, but he is also admired and envied.” Evie lowered her cup to the walnut table, stood, and turned toward the windows, hugging her middle. “What is his fault, Mamma? He has taken in a child, one for whom he is responsible, and loves her. Where is the crime in such an honorable action?”
“I shall speak with your father about this, but you will not be allowed to refuse another suitor. You will accept Viscount Ponsby.”
“I will not. It is an imprudent match.”
Her mother’s face flushed and her eyes snapped with anger. “Insolent girl! You lost one of the biggest catches of last year’s season because of your foolish desires. I will countenance it no more. I will demand your father deal with you. Take your thoughts away from that profligate reprobate. He mixes with vulgar commoners and lowlifes. Your father and I forbid you from dancing with him further.” Then the countess marched from the drawing room, slamming the door in her wake.
With a sigh, Evie rubbed the spot on her forehead that was beginning to ache. Her mother had been less tolerant ever since Evie had indeed lost the match of the decade last year. There were rules one had to abide by, and the one instance in which Evie had broken those infernal stipulations, she had hurt her dearest friend and had created a scandal that was spoken of in hushed whispers even months later. The Duke of Wolverton had offered for Evie, and she had allowed Adel to be caught with him in a compromising situation so Evie could escape the union. She had acted with rash selfishness she had not thought made up part of her nature. It was a testament to her friend’s kind and forgiving nature they were still the dearest of friends, though Evie’d had a hard time forgiving herself.
“I love Westfall. At the crest of each dawn, I think of him. He is my friend, my confidant, but I also yearn to be his lover. He makes me ache, and my heart belongs to him. He kissed me once, and I still feel the press of his lips against mine, the heat of his body, and the strength of his arms.”
Words she had declared so passionately to her friend in justification for her actions. It was the only time Evie had ever owned to the feelings he roused in her. But then she had been desperate, unable to bear the idea of being married to the duke, while her heart and body ached for Richard.
A gentle tap sounded on the door before it was opened, and in strolled her father. She hurried over to him, her hands held out. He took them and tugged her close, pressing a kiss to her forehead.
“My dear Evie, you have your mother in an uproar.”