Page 40 of Portrait of a Lady
Affecting a nonchalant shrug, she sank onto the love seat facing the sofa her mother and sister occupied. “I cannot believe you read this drivel. There was nothing of any substance there.”
Beatrice gave her a knowing smile. “Playing coy was never your strong suit, Evie. Do you think we could not decipher thatyouwere Mr. Radcliffe’s companion that evening at the theater? Honestly, how many spinsters with new inheritances with a surname that begins with ‘C’ do you think are in this city?”
Evelyn snorted. “It was an outing with five friends, one of whom happened to be Mr. Radcliffe. You are making much of nothing, Bea.”
“Except, when we arrived from Devon yesterday afternoon, shortly after sending off my note to inform you we would be calling today, I was paid a call by Mrs. Moore,” her mother declared.
Evelyn groaned, pressing her fingertips to her pounding temples. Damn it all, Mrs. Albina Moore was one of the worst gossips Evelyn had ever known. It would not surprise her in the least if the old matron turned out to be the secret author of that ghastly gossip column.
“That’s right,” Beatrice confirmed with a smug glance. “She told us that she had just spotted the two of you in Berkeley Square sharing ices across the street from Gunter’s. When I asked if she were certain it was you—for I have never known you to be comfortable enough in male company for such an outing—she insisted itwasyou and that you were even wearing your favorite bonnet; the one with the periwinkle ribbon and the cluster of lavender muslin flowers.
Folding her hands in her lap and avoiding her sister’s gaze, Evelyn fought to maintain her neutral expression. None of what Beatrice revealed had to mean anything. There wasn’t a woman her age in London who did not attend the theater with friends or enjoy ices with a male companion from time to time. None of those details were enough to condemn them.
So why did she feel as if she stood at the gallows with a hangman tying a noose about her neck?
“Mr. Radcliffe is a friend, nothing more,” she said, waving a dismissive hand through the air.
Her mother scoffed, raising her chin. “Since when do men find themselves amongst your small circle of friends? You could hardly look at one when you were a debutante without tying your tongue in knots.”
The reminder of her shortcomings made her feel as if she’d been punched in the gut. She knew her mother did not mean it as an insult, and besides, it was the truth. Yet, it never stopped hurting to know that not only did she think herself a hopeless social misfit, but so did everyone else, including her family.
Hugh doesn’t think of you that way.
The thought instilled her with a sense of pride, and she raised her head, meeting her mother’s stare. “I am not eight-and-ten anymore, and my circle of friends has grown since then.”
“I am glad to hear it,” her mother declared. “Though, if you are going to court the attentions of a gentleman, I do wish you’d find someone more suitable than the youngest Mr. Radcliffe.”
Evelyn snapped her spine straight, her hackles raising swiftly at the insult to Hugh. “And just what is wrong with Mr. Radcliffe?”
Beatrice wrinkled her nose. “Darling, I know the man is nice to look at, but you cannot think he will do for a husband. Not only has he been cast out of his family, he has tarnished his good name byworkingfor a living.”
Her nostrils flared as she tried to get a hold of her temper and failed. The need to defend Hugh was one she could not ignore, even as she knew it would only work against her argument that there was nothing going on between them.
“He is a very talented painter, and I find it quite hypocritical the way people of thetonpraise art while deriding the profession of artistry. His family ought to be ashamed of themselves for the way they have treated him.”
Beatrice raised her eyebrows, staring at Evelyn as if worried she’d lost her mind. “My goodness, such vehemence on behalf of a man you are only friends with.”
“I would feel the same way if any of my other friends had been cast out of their own families,” she argued. “It wouldn’t mean I want to marry any of them.”
“The rest of society won’t know that,” her mother interjected. “It is why you must shun his company. No good can come with being associated with him.”
“The same society filled with people who probably couldn’t even pick me out of a crowd?” she challenged. “Why should I care what they think?”
“The writer of this column picked you out of the crowd,” Beatrice pointed out. “Likely because of whom you were with. That is exactly the point I am trying to make, Evie. The sort of attention you do not like will fall down on your head if you aren’t careful.”
Her stomach twisted at the thought, and she recalled that feeling of being the center of attention as they’d sat in Benedict’s theater box, the anxiety it had caused. Hugh had insisted it had nothing to do with her, but now she had been involved in gossip due to her mere proximity to him. It was not ideal, but it still did not have to mean anything. The gossips would grow bored with them once they realized nothing concrete would ever come of their association. Some new thing would capture their attention, and she and Hugh would fade away from their thoughts.
“I am five-and-twenty now,” she reminded them. “Free to live my life as I please, thanks to Grandfather’s foresight in securing my inheritance.”
Her mother nodded in agreement. “That you are, my dear. But do not forget that doing as you please is all well and good until the consequences become apparent.”
She smiled and pretended to be unaffected by that untimely advice. She feared the consequences had already reared their heads, as she found herself losing her heart to Hugh at an alarming rate. But, she could not dwell on that for now.
“There is nothing to concern yourself with,” she assured her mother. “As I said we are merely friends. Besides, you both know I have decided I quite like my life the way it is and never wish to marry.”
That was not entirely true, but this was another thing her family simply did not know about her. They thought her independent and pleased with her isolation and loneliness. For a time, she had convinced herself that she was, but coming to love Hugh had reminded her of all the things she’d never have. A husband and children, the sort of future that did not see her living out her last years with Patience at her side and a string of regrets behind her. They did not know she envied her sisters for having the sort of charm and grace that made men take notice, for being born with all the things she lacked.
As she offered to send for tea, and steered the conversation toward more mundane matters, Evelyn did her best to push those morose thoughts into the darkest corner of her mind. There was no need to dwell on them now. She’d gotten her wish and would not grow old and die as an untouched maiden. For the nonce, she and Hugh could carry on as they had been, and Evelyn would enjoy every perfect moment of it. After all, they had only just begun.
