“Don’t be jealous, Gregory. Lucien and I share a close friendship, but there is nothing romantic between us.” Her words soothed Gregory’s agitation and filled him with relief. “I choose to remain unwed because I have spent my life fighting for comfort and stability. I have those things through my hard work. I don’t want to be beholden to anyone. I didn’t even want to accept this job from Lucien when he first offered it. But he convinced me that he needed my skill and talent. And now I’m going to doom his dream.” She took a halting breath.

Gregory moved slowly toward her, hating to see her hurting. “It isn’t your fault.”

She laughed suddenly, a broken, hollow sound that carved into Gregory’s heart. “The irony is that my father was a chevalier. During the Terror, he sent us here for safety. He was supposed to follow as soon as he ensured some others were safe. He never came. It was years before we confirmed he had died.”

“Evie, I’m so sorry.”

One of her beautiful, elegant shoulders lifted. “I don’t remember him at all. I was very young when we came from France. Just me, my sister, our mother, and her maid, Nadine.” Her eyes met his. “You met my sister—Heloise. Rather, Mrs. Creighton.”

“I did think you bore a resemblance to one another,” he confessed.

She exhaled. “That has been a problem since I became Evangeline Renshaw. It’s why she doesn’t come to town. That, and she’s a pariah because she married above her station.” She gave him a sad look. “I’m sorry your name will be sullied with mine. You don’t deserve that. I should have been honest with you so you could decide if you wanted to sully yourself with someone like me.”

Gregory couldn’t stand another moment without touching her. Yes, he was angry, but he was also outraged for her. In agony—for her. He went to her and gently clasped her upper arms. “I would never think that, not even knowing the truth. You are a remarkable woman, Evie. To have lifted yourself from an unimaginable devastation is incredible.”

“Do you say that because my father was a chevalier? What if we—Heloise and I—were simply poor girls from the East End? Would you still think me remarkable?”

He understood her point, and the truth was he didn’t know, because that wasn’t the situation. “I’d like to think so. Evie, I was—and am—drawn to you, whoever that is.”

“And what if I don’t know?” she asked brokenly.

Gregory tried to pull her to him, but she broke away and put distance between them, positioning herself closer to the door. He couldn’t help feeling wounded that she’d allowed Lucien to comfort her, but not him.