Suppressing a groan, Evie tried to summon a smile and failed. She didn’t want to tell Heloise what she’d overheard earlier, but then she ought to prepare her sister for Lady Witney’s meanness. Except Heloise looked so happy. She deserved a nice evening. Perhaps Evie could ensure the Witneys didn’t come. It wasn’t as if they wanted to.

“I’ve decided to attend the assembly after all,” Evie said, sweeping her hat from her head and removing her gloves.

“Splendid!” Heloise’s joyful response was cut short when her eyes narrowed slightly. “Why the sudden change of heart? I thought I was going to have to drag you.”

“Because I know how much it means to you,” Evie said warmly. That, and she’d use the opportunity to encourage Lord Gregory to keep his brother and sister-in-law at home.

“I’m so pleased, thank you. I know you worry you’ll be recognized someday.” Heloise’s gaze filled with sympathy. She didn’t like that Evie had chosen to hide her identity, to pretend to be someone she wasn’t. And sometimes Evie agreed with her. Sometimes, she wanted everyone to know that she and Heloise were sisters, that they’d been visited by tragic circumstance and had risen from the ashes—like phoenixes—to not only survive, but thrive.

However, Evie wasn’t like Heloise. She didn’t have her sister’s strength and confidence. Everyone thought Evie possessed those traits, but they didn’t really know her. She didn’t want them to. It was easier to hide herself, particularly her past as a courtesan, than face scrutiny and certain rejection.

“I’ll just keep my eyes open for who is in attendance. It’s unlikely any of the gentlemen who might recognize me from my Cyprian days will be at a rural assembly in Oxfordshire.” Most of those men were either her friends, or they wouldn’t want to reveal her past for fear of implicating their own scandalous behavior. Evie smiled at her sister to ease her concern.

Heloise nodded. “I’m sure you’re right about that.”

Evie had preferred when her sister and Alfred had lived farther north, in Nottinghamshire. There’d been little chance of running into anyone from London there. But they’d wanted a larger house, more land, and to be closer to Evie in London.

“I’m going to take a warm bath,” Evie said, crossing the drawing room.

“Wonderful,” Heloise murmured.

Evie paused at the doorway and looked back at her sister. Her head was bent over her needlework. She looked the consummate country squire’s wife—exactly what she should be. No, she should be a countess or a duchess. That had been their station. Before war and chance had torn it away.

Stiffening, Evie turned and pushed the bitterness from her mind.

Chapter 2