Chapter Nine
Evan
Evan paced his study for what felt like hours after the walk in Hyde Park had done little to settle his nerves. Marina’s words echoed over and over in his mind:
“Do something that proves you are actually sorry. That I have any reason to believe you are in earnest and deserve forgiveness.”
Three days. She had three bloody days before that bastard Minto would have her. If he thought that bodily harm to her father would solve the problem, he would consider it. Although, even still, he was still considering it.
He poured himself a brandy and knocked it back in one burning swallow.
How could he prove anything when he could barely hold his estates together?
When he’d sacrificed being with her once to protect her from his family’s ruin?
That threat still hung over him, and he wasn’t certain what the clues from his father would expose.
He punched the wall before he could think better of it. The pain felt appropriate—less than he deserved for the hurt he’d caused her. Blood welled on his knuckles, but he barely noticed.
Parker appeared in the doorway. “My lord? Is everything—”
“I’m fine.” Evan flexed his hand, wincing. “Leave me.”
Parker hesitated, then bowed and retreated.
Evan knew he was being an arse to his valet, but he couldn’t think about anything except Marina trapped in a marriage to Minto.
The man’s reputation was whispered about even in the clubs.
He was known for his seedy associations and cruel treatment of women.
The ledgers still lay open on his desk, mocking him with their cryptic margins. He’d been through them a hundred times, trying to understand where the money had gone. His father’s neat handwriting stared back at him, those strange notations he’d dismissed as idle scribbling.
“The old oak knows.”
He’d assumed it meant the oak between their estates, but that would be too convenient. Too poetic given his history with Marina.
Suddenly a thought came to him. What if he was being too literal?
Evan sat down and pulled the ledger closer, studying the other margin notes with fresh eyes. His father had been meticulous about everything, so surely these notes meant something.
He searched through the entire ledger and at the bottom of the back of one page, he noticed a small section of writing that he’d overlooked before. “Hide and I’ll find you.”
Evan dropped the ledger and rose from his chair. His pulse quickened as the memories flooded his mind. That was something his father used to say to him as a boy. And every time, he hid in the same place.
The nursery.
Evan raced from the room and took the nearest stairs two at a time. His boots echoed on the servants’ stairs.
The third floor had been closed off since he’d outgrown the nursery many years ago. The door creaked as he pushed it open, dust motes visible from the glow of the setting sun.
Everything remained exactly as he’d left it—his rocking horse in the corner, toy soldiers still arranged in battle formation on the windowsill. The scent of old wood filled his lungs.
But his eyes went immediately to the wall above the mantelpiece.
The painting. How had he forgotten? It was of an enormous oak tree with a swing on one of the branches.
Evan stood before the painting for a moment and then lifted the heavy frame from the wall. There, carved into the wood paneling behind it, was the door to what appeared to be a large safe. His fingers traced the edges until he found the hidden latch.
It clicked open.
Inside lay a strongbox and a letter with his name written in his father’s hand. He opened the letter first, his hands shaking.
My dear son,
If you are reading this, then I am gone and you have solved the clues that I left for you.
I am sorry for not explaining everything, but I could not risk certain parties learning of these funds.
The majority of our wealth is secure here—bonds, banknotes, and documentation of investments I made quietly through intermediate parties.
I got in with the wrong sorts, and got in over my head with gambling and learning things that put my life in danger.
I knew they might come after me, even once I paid my markers.
I was too big of a liability. So I had to ensure you and your mother were provided for in the event that they thought to press you for more funds or threaten you in any way.
I needed everyone to believe that I’d left you with nothing.
I hope in time you can come to understand.
Your Father
Evan read the missive again, unsure what to make of his father’s words. He set the letter on the mantel and then his fingers fumbled with the strongbox latch. When it opened, his breath caught.
Stacks of banknotes. Investment certificates. Bonds. More than enough. More than he’d dared hope. Enough to provide Marina with the life she deserved. If his father hadn’t done this, he’d have had Marina at his side all this time.
Evan sank into the dusty nursery chair, overwhelmed. His father hadn’t gambled it away. At least not to the point of leaving them with nothing.
He carefully put everything into the box to take with him to lock away in his study. Tomorrow, he would see his solicitor and ensure the funds were secured in the necessary accounts.
But the most pressing matter was Marina.
He needed to plan exactly how to win back the woman he’d never stopped loving.
Marina wanted proof he was sorry, that he was in earnest. Well, he would give her both.
He’d call on her tomorrow, properly, and offer for her hand.
Not as a desperate man trying to save her, but as a man who could give her everything she deserved.
He glanced around the dusty nursery one more time before leaving. Perhaps one day, he and Marina’s children would play here. Perhaps he could tell them the crazy story about how their grandfather had almost prevented their existence with his schemes.
But first, he had to do whatever it took to convince Marina to forgive him. And he had fewer days to do it.