Page 43 of What a Lord Wants

“Good.”

The intensity of that single word surprised her. So did the cut of Mariah’s quick judgment that she agreed with Dom about Eve’s limited allure. “Good?”

“Because a man like Ellsworth will hurt you if you’re not careful.” Mariah stood and approached her, taking her shoulders in her hands. Most likely in case she needed to shake sense into her. “I’m certain he would never do so on purpose, that his intentions for you are completely honorable. But in the end, when he rejects you, the pain will be the same.”

“He’s a respectable man, Mariah.” Or at least this half of him was. She wasn’t so certain about Vincenzo.

“I know. And I wish he were a rake, because if you knew he was a rake, your heart would know well enough to leave the man alone.”

Eve wasn’t so sure about that. She’d thought him a scandalous Italian painter, and her heart had leapt itself right into his arms.

“Don’t you see?” Her sister’s expression melted into one of motherly concern. “He’s certainly flattered by the attention you pay him, perhaps even engaging in harmless flirtation.”

She bit her bottom lip. That kiss they’d shared was more than flirtation. And certainlynotharmless.

“But he’s a marquess, Evie, and a highly regarded one at that.”

“Yes! So why are you—”

“Because he will never marry you.” With a worried frown, she slipped her hands up to cup Eve’s face. “Not a wealthy marquess to the daughter of a trade merchant, no matter how beautiful he thinks you.”

Her head knew that, but her foolish heart yearned for more. “You married the son of a duke,” Eve reminded her.

“Thesecondson. And the current duke’s reputation isn’t exactly sterling, which was why Trent was able to marry the niece of one of his tenants for love. But Ellsworth…” Her shoulders sagged in sympathy as she said quietly, “He might enjoy talking you and spending time with you, but in the end, he’ll marry the daughter of a peer because of the respect her position in society will bring him. In your heart, you know that.”

Her chest panged with a hollow ache. “I know,” she breathed out, unable to find her voice beneath that harsh truth. Whatever special relationship she and Dom had shared was now over. For many, many reasons. “But I wish…” She didn’t have the heart to finish the sentence.

A flash of grief passed over Mariah’s face before she could hide it by placing a kiss to Eve’s forehead.

“You will find your prince, I promise you,” Mariah assured her. “Don’t give up just yet.”

“Just don’t expect him to be Dominick Mercer?” Somehow she managed to choke out a small laugh at the same time she fought back tears.

Mariah gave Eve’s shoulder a parting squeeze before crossing to the door. “Bentley,” she called out, “would you please tell the marquess that Miss Winslow is indisposed today and not accepting callers?”

He nodded, thankfully not glancing in Eve’s direction, and left to convey her message.

Eve stared after him, fighting down the urge to run downstairs to see Dom. One last time.

“I know this is painful, but thisisthe right decision,” Mariah assured her.

Eve gave a jerking nod. The right decision to prevent a broken heart.

So why did it feel as if her heart had just shattered into a million pieces?

Chapter 12

Dom paced the length of the Winslow drawing room.

Well,thiswas a new experience. He’d seldom been forced to call on unmarried ladies, and never before had he been made to wait this long.

But then, when had Evelyn Winslow ever been an ordinary miss?

No other woman had given him a sleepless night before, but that was exactly what she’d done. After he’d walked away from Williams with her letters safely in his possession, he’d scoured the ball for her, only to discover that she’d already left. And so had Sabrina, with Viscount Northland. So he’d spent the rest of the night alone at the studio, unable to focus on anything except Eve.

Dear God, her face—he’d never seen a woman look so wounded as when she stood in that drawing room last night and listened as everyone laughed at her. Which was why he was here. To make certain she was all right.

All he had were questions without answers and a half-finished painting that now could never be completed. She’d stared at him all night from that canvas, yet instead of infuriating him for snatching his dream away, what he felt every time he looked at it was loss. It was the same grief he’d felt when he’d inherited and had to leave Venice.