Chapter 8
A few nights later, Evelina stared at herself in the mirror, in her full finery for the opera.
It had been a long time since she’d worn the complete costume of a courtesan.
Even before Harry had cut her off, he had been critical of her being too flashy, especially if they were going out to someplace that might be considered proper.
But the dark green gown she had donned for the evening had always been one of her favorites.
It had been gathered and tucked with exquisite attention to detail, from the way the fabric lay to the little dark yellow cloth flowers that adorned the neckline and capped off the sleeves.
It was low cut, of course, revealing a bit more bosom than a proper lady might have dared to do.
She’d always considered it the perfect combination of seduction and elegance.
What would Blackburn think of her?
She cut herself off from that thought immediately.
That was the thought of a woman entering an affair in truth and that was not her.
If she kept having thoughts about Blackburn it wasn’t because she wanted him or longed to be wanted by him.
This was about the arrangement and nothing more.
That had been made clear by their lack of contact since they’d last met at Lady Lena’s, beyond a quick note to inform her what time he would pick her up tonight.
It had been warm but formal, nothing to confuse matters and so she refused to let herself become confused just because he liked astronomy or was kind to servants and probably children and little animals, too.
She sighed at her reflection in the mirror and got up to walk to her window. The garden behind the home was dark, but she could make out a few shadows of the trees and bushes. Would it be wrong to climb down the trellis and bolt into the night? Change her name and go live beside the sea?
Sometimes that seemed like the perfect answer to all her problems.
She heard the bell below and shrugged off her worries. She also tried to ignore how her hands shook as she smoothed her gown one last time and then moved to the door. Her maid arrived in mere moments to tell her of Blackburn’s arrival and Evelina made her way to the stairs to go meet him.
To her surprise, she found him waiting at the bottom of those stairs as she turned across the landing to come down the second flight of them. He was leaning on the banister, staring up at her, and her breath caught.
The last few times she’d seen him, including at Lady Lena’s, the man had been slightly disheveled. His hair had been a fraction too long, his cheeks slashed with stubble like he’d forgotten to shave. He’d looked like a man with troubles.
But tonight, dressed in full formal attire and cleaned up, he looked…
well, he was very handsome. His gaze flitted over her from head to toe as she stepped from the last step and it was in that moment she realized her gown matched those eyes perfectly.
Had she done that on purpose when she was choosing between this dress and a wine-colored one that would have been just as perfect for the opera?
She didn’t think so. That was something a courtesan did when she was truly lovers with a man, not when she was pretending.
“Good evening, Evelina,” he said, taking her hand and lifting it to his lips briefly. The brush of his mouth was soft on her bare skin and sent unexpected tingles up her arm.
“My lord,” she managed to gasp out in response.
Those green eyes lifted to hers and he smiled. “Well, that won’t do at all now that we’ve reached this moment when we’re about to reveal ourselves as entangled. If we were truly lovers, you wouldn’t be so formal, I don’t think.”
He was right, of course. But as she struggled to think of what to call him, heat rushed to her cheeks. “I-I just realized I don’t know your given name, Blackburn.”
“Vaughn Courteney,” he said with a slight bow. “Seventh Earl of Blackburn, at your service.”
“Vaughn,” she repeated, letting the feel of it settle on her tongue. “It suits you.”
He lifted his brows. “Does it? I admit I rarely hear it, for everyone in my acquaintance calls me Blackburn or my lords me into oblivion.”
“Even your wife?” she asked.
She saw the flicker of his reaction at the mention of Lady Blackburn. The tightness of his lips and the way the life dimmed in his eyes made her wish she hadn’t asked.
“Florence called me Vaughn at the beginning, but not for years now,” he said.
“It’s shame men of your station don’t get to use their given names very often. Blackburn is a title, it’s been owned by many men. You become anonymous in a way when it’s all you’re known by.”
He drew back a little. “You’re right, of course, though the observation isn’t one I’ve heard anyone else ever make. I suppose the anonymity is part of the point. I’m meant to be a position rather than a man.”
She shook her head. “Well, I think it’s sad.”
“It’s a costume, like what you’re wearing now.”
She glanced down at herself. If he’d been surprised she’d called out the anonymity of his position, she was equally surprised he noted the performative aspect of her own.
“I suppose the benefit of both our costumes is that they offer protection,” she said. “But if you’d like me to call you Vaughn, I’m happy to do so. And you may continue to call me Evelina. Or Evie, if it suits.”
He nodded. “Evie. I like that. I never heard Southwater call you that.”
“He only did once or twice, always when drunk.” She frowned, for the fact the duke had only ever accidentally used her nickname had always stung a little.
To her, Evie was an expression of love and affection that her sisters often used.
Harry hadn’t wanted to do so, he’d said as much whenever pressed.
“Then all the better reason for me to do so, Evie.” They stared at each other a brief moment and then he offered her his arm. “Shall we be off? We’ll be just beyond fashionably late for the opera now and I think that’s perfect if our goal is to be seen.”
She pushed away any tangled thoughts the topic of names had created in her and took his arm. She was off to battle now, but at least she had a good ally in the fight. One she hoped she could help as much as he helped her.
* * *
As the carriage bobbed along the busy streets toward the Drury Lane Theatre, Vaughn found himself watching Evie.
She would have looked entirely serene, if not for the fact that she kept working her hands together and her foot tapped beneath her skirt.
They were subtle tells, of course, but there nonetheless.
“You seem nervous,” he said softly.
She jolted as if surprised he’d noticed.
Her dark brown eyes dropped away from his for a moment and then she sighed.
“I suppose there’s no reason to hide it, given the nature of our relationship.
It’s…it’s the first time I’ve been out to such a large event since Southwater ended things last month.
Unlike at the gambling hell or Lady Lena’s, there will be little avenue for me to escape if the crowd’s attention becomes too intense.
And even if I could, I don’t want to let you down by acting incorrectly. ”
He tilted his head. “Let me down? I must make it clear, Evie, whatever the nature of this arrangement we’ve made, I don’t see you as a tool.
I know how impossible all this is. When I see them together, it hurts.
I’m not so much a fool as to think you would feel differently.
If you need to escape, we’ll leave. And if it hurts… you can take my hand.”
She stared at him, surprise evident on her lovely face. For a moment he wondered how rare it was for her to be offered kindness or gentleness, understanding that she was as full and real a person as he was, that she had a heart and emotions.
If she hadn’t been granted those allowances, he was angry on her behalf.
“Thank you, Vaughn,” she said at last. “And the same goes for you.”
He smiled as they came to a stop before the Drury Lane Theatre.
It had burned down several years before and only been rebuilt and opened for performances less than a year before.
He stepped down from the carriage and held out a hand to help her down.
There were few people on the street in front of the building, as they were late.
Together they stared up at the plain, rectangular facade with its portico that welcomed patrons.
Together they said, “I miss the old building.”
He looked at her and they laughed that they’d said the same thing at the same time.
“The brickwork was just prettier before. And the statue of Apollo?” she said.
“Yes, it was all just so much grander,” he agreed. “I used to get a thrill just looking at it.”
He took her arm and together they entered the majestic hall. “This, at least, is still very fine,” she said. “The rotunda is so lovely.”
“It is. And the productions are reasonable, no matter the look of the place.”
There were more people in entry hall and as they moved toward the entrance to the boxes, he noted when the others began to recognize them. There were stares and a few whispers as they went past and Evie’s hand tightened in his elbow as she tugged herself a little closer to his side.
“Look down at me adoringly,” she whispered.
He jolted and then did as she requested, staring down into those dark eyes for a moment.
There was something calming about her even stare and his heart rate slowed a little as he drew a long breath.
“It’s going to be more intense once we enter the box.
Especially if my sources are correct that Southwater and Florence are in attendance in his box. ”
“Oh,” she said, and her throat worked as she swallowed. “I wondered if he might be here. And I suppose he would bring her now that they aren’t hiding things anymore.”
He leaned closer. “Is it too much?”