“She is such a sweet and good young woman, though; she would be no trouble to you.”

“Like Rachel was no trouble?” He clenched the ring on his pinkie until he felt the thin gold bend under his pressure. He dropped his hand, and his shoulders sagged. One more beautiful thing ruined by his touch.

“Ah, she is rather similar to Lady Bryant, isn’t she?” Mrs. Cuthbert grimaced. “I shouldn’t have mentioned the idea. I wasn’t thinking.” Mrs. Cuthbert stood and reached for his hand. “I’m sure you are right. She would be a disaster for you, but perhaps someone else—”

Everton pulled his hand away. “Not another word.” A cold sweat formed at the back of his neck. He couldn’t be in this room another instant. Not with the thought of marrying Lady Emily in his mind. He knew what that marriage would be, and he wouldn’t be responsible for another young life devastated because of him. He scrambled out of the drawing room, leaving Mrs. Cuthbert without a word of farewell. They were good enough friends that she would forgive him. Without waiting for his hat, he stumbled out the front door. Hands on his knees and gulping for air, he scanned the busy street for anything that would distract him.

Carriages. His eyes caught hold of the first one that passed him, and he numbered it. One. Another came from the other direction. Two.

Three, four, five. It wasn’t working. Flashes of walking into Rachel’s bedroom during the first few months of their marriage passed over his eyes. The months when he thought he would be able to make her happy. He reached for the brick wall behind him. What a fool he had been. Three months of being oblivious to the fact that Rachel had despised his touch. But discovering the fact hadn’t helped matters for him. The harder he tried with her and the more he showed he cared, the more she shrank into her shell. He couldn’t reach her with kindness, and he couldn’t reach her with gentleness. So he stopped and waited for her to come to him.

She never did.

Then he made the worst mistake of his life.

He thought, perhaps, if she knew he was waiting for her, she would come. So he told her. He told her whether or not she came into his room was her choice. Oh, he had his reasons. What if she thought he no longer desired her? What if she didn’t know he was waiting for her? It was ridiculous to spend two months waiting for your wife to do something without ever letting her know what you expected of her.

Her face had gone white, and she had nodded. Like she always did. Like she had at their wedding with her parents looking over her shoulder. Rachel always did what was expected of her whether she wanted to or not.

But she couldn’t make herself open the door between them. He had listened for her footsteps near the door every night. Sometimes she had paced in front of the door. Once he had even heard the key slide into the lock on her side. But she never opened it, and neither of them slept well after that. Even with a door and a wall between them, he could hear her fretting late into the night.