Page 47 of Portrait of a Lady
“Miss Coburn, we meant no offense,” Benedict tried again. “I only wanted to be prepared in the event—”
“Ben,” Aubrey snapped, giving a swift shake of his head to silence their friend.
While Benedict was all professionalism when it came to the Gentleman Courtesans, this was not business. This was Hugh’s life falling down around him, his heart being pulverized into bits.
“I wish you the best of luck with the Exhibition, Mr. Radcliffe,” she said, her voice cracking as her composure began to slip. “I hope it brings you everything you ever wanted.”
She turned and fled, disappearing from the doorway on swift feet. Hugh simply stood there, struck dumb and rendered motionless. His friends seemed determined to look anywhere but at him, the tension of the moment only growing worse now that Evelyn had left the room. It was Aubrey who snapped him out of the haze of disbelief, one hand coming down on his shoulder.
“You’d better go after her,” his friend murmured. “Before it is too late.”
That spurred him into action, as he realized that he’d had it all wrong. He’d seen it all in her eyes the moment he glanced up to find that she’d been listening and had been hurt by his words. He hadn’t realized it before because he’d been blinded by his own insecurities, his worry that their connection was completely one-sided. But, he’d witnessed her unshed tears, the pain his ill-timed words had caused. They weren’t the last things he wanted her to have heard him say. She had to know how he truly felt.
He dashed out of the studio and up the stairs, knowing he had at least as long as it took her to dress to plead his case. He nearly tore his bedroom door off the hinges, entering the chamber to find her in her chemise.
“Evie,” he pleaded, closing the door and coming into the room. “Let me explain.”
She huffed a dry, humorless laugh, glaring up at him as she finished off her laces. “Explain what? There is nothing for you to say...at least nothing we don’t both know to be true.”
He reached out for her, but she batted his hands away, turning her back to retrieve her gown and step into it. She went without stays as she often did when coming to him, making it easier for her to function without the help of a lady’s maid.
“I never meant for you to hear any of that.”
“Why not?” she huffed, shoving her arms into the sleeves. “It’s the truth, is it not? And here I’ve been deluding myself thinking that this was different somehow, that you actually cared, and that I—”
She went silent and shook her head, fumbling at the back of her gown to close it.
“Idocare, Evie,” he insisted, stepping forward to help her.
She let him, going still and lowering her head as he took his time closing the gown. The longer he took, the more time he’d have to explain himself.
“I tried not to,” he continued. “I didn’t want to, but you...you’re different.”
“Oh yes, I suppose you find me ever so special,” she spat. “What was it you called me? Oh, yes, there was ‘beautiful,’ and I believe you even called me ‘magnificent’ once. And all that rot about me being made of all the good things others wish they could be...God, if a career in art does not pan out for you, you ought to consider becoming a poet. You are good, Hugh...you are as good as Benedict told me you’d be.”
He spun her to face him, taking hold of her shoulders. “I meant every word I ever said to you from the beginning. But, I never believed it could last...our arrangement was only ever supposed to be temporary—”
“Right, and now it has ended just in time for you to move on to your true passion. I do thank you for rendering your services with such skill. I did not want to die a virgin, and now I will not. I wanted someone to make me feel desirable, and you did that, too...almost too well. But it is not your fault I saw things that were never really there, or that I forgot what you are and what it is you do.”
“God damn it, Evie, I haveneverbeen with any woman the way I have been with you,” he cried, tightening his hold on her. “It never felt like a job with you, and you were never just a keeper to me. Every bit of it, the things I said, the things we did, the way we felt—”
“Lies!” she bellowed, shoving him away. “Illusion! You said it yourself, Hugh, creating that illusion is what I paid you to do. I have just told you that our arrangement is over, so you can stop now. You are no longer being compensated for it!”
“That wasn’t the way of it, and I think we both know that.”
Shaking her head, she finally allowed her tears to fall, one fat droplet racing down her face and off the edge of her chin. Another followed, and then another, each one making him feel as if someone were sinking a dagger deep into his chest.
“I don’t know what to believe anymore,” she whispered, choking back a sob. “And to walk into that room and hear you talking with your friends about who will take over when you are finished, as if...as if…”
He reached out to swipe away a tear and cup her cheek. “I wanted to tear this entire house down to its foundation at the thought of another man so much as looking at you. The way I feel about you...it is terrifying and wonderful all at once. But it is real, all of it has been real.”
Reaching up to grasp his hand, she pulled it away from her cheek and dropped it to hang at his side. Shaking her head at him, she blinked and released another tear.
“And now, it is over.”
She whirled to retrieve her slippers before rushing from the room, leaving behind her spencer as well as her manuscript, which lay on a table near the hearth. They’d been readingThe Mad Barontogether between sessions in the studio, and they’d gotten through nearly half the book. He rushed past her forgotten belongings, determined not to give up yet. This couldn’t be how things ended between them. Not with her in tears and him feeling as if someone had reached down his throat and pulled his heart out through his mouth.
His voice echoed through the house as he gave chase. “Evie! Evie, wait...please!”
