Page 83 of What a Lord Wants

Eve hesitated. Only a fleeting heartbeat, but in that momentary pause, Mariah’s eyes widened.

“You haven’t told him?” she guessed in a whisper. “Oh, Evie…”

She looked away, her chest tightening so hard that she winced. “He doesn’t know.”

“Even if you haven’t told him, surely he’s seen the changes in you and suspects…Evie?”

Her vision began to blur beneath gathering tears. “We had a terrible fight. He’s been living away from Mercer House, and before that…” Before that, he’d barely seen her at all.

Mariah pulled her into her arms and hugged her tightly as Eve trembled against her, gulping large mouthfuls of air to fight back the tears. The pregnancy had made her emotional, and her crying fits had only been exacerbated by her loneliness and her grief over Dom.

Mariah cupped her face between her hands, and concern darkened her face. “Is there any way to apologize for the fight, to put it behind you both and move on?”

Squeezing her eyes shut, she shook her head. She’d accepted the inevitable. Her marriage was over.

“What did you fight about that was so terrible?”

She couldn’t open her eyes, couldn’t bear to see the look of pity on her sister’s face. “He doesn’t love me.”

“Of course he does.” She tenderly smoothed back Eve’s hair. “He wouldn’t have married you if he didn’t.”

“He married me because displaying that painting was his fault.” Remorse was a long way from love.

“He’s a marquess. What care does he have about a young woman’s reputation? He certainly didn’t have to marry you, no matter what happened with that painting. But he did it anyway. Because he loves you.”

No. Because he had to protect his secret identity as Vincenzo.

“Evelyn, look at me.” Mariah gently took her chin, then waited until Eve opened her eyes. “Whether you allow him to come back home or not—that’s completely up to you. But he deserves to know about the baby.”

“I can’t tell him, not right now.” She inhaled a deep, trembling breath, knowing how terrible the timing of her pregnancy was. “The winter exhibition is opening soon, and he’s responsible for making all the arrangements.” Half the paintings in Mercer House had already been placed on loan for it and shipped to Pall Mall. “It’s a very special event for him.” No, not special—displaying the painting under his own name meanteverythingto him. “I don’t want to add to his burden.”

“This baby isnota burden, and he would never see it that way.”

Perhaps not. But would it be as important to him as his art?

“And how do you feel about it?”

“It’s barely a bump in my belly,” she whispered, unable to keep from smiling happily, “but I love it.” With every ounce of her being. The thought of being a mother excited her and made her feel more alive than any other thing in her life. She no longer feared the darkness, no longer felt alone—all of that changed with the baby. Her smile faded. “I only wish I knew how to tell Dom.”

Mariah leaned forward to place a kiss to her forehead. “You have to trust him, Eve.”

She gave a jerking nod, knowing Mariah was right, even if it changed not one thing between them. “I’ll tell him once the exhibition has been launched, after preview night.”

Mariah hugged her tightly. “Make certain you do, so that we can share your good news with everyone.” She kissed her cheek. “You deserve to be happy about this. You deserve to be spoiled and to make all kinds of wonderful plans for your baby…and you’ll get five months of being able to drive your husband mad without having to explain yourself.”

Her mouth fell open. “You didn’t!”

Mariah smiled like the cat who’d gotten into the cream. “I once sent Robert to fetch me a lemon ice from the park. He had to run to have it home before it melted.” Mariah handed her a handkerchief. “Ellsworth will be just as attentive to you. I know it.”

Thinking of Dom working away in his studio, Even wasn’t at all certain of that.

Either way, she would go forward. She might never have a real marriage now, but shewouldfind a way to make her home into a loving one for her child. She only wished Dom would be part of it.

Chapter 24

A fortnight later

Dom bit out a frustrated curse. His finished painting wasn’t at all a masterpiece.