Chapter 4 #3
Evander stepped into the familiar entry hall just as Wilton was descending the staircase, an eyebrow arched in surprise. “Westmere. What brings you by at this hour?”
“I need to speak to Olivia,” Evander replied, his tone clipped with purpose.
Wilton gave him a considering look. “She is dressing for dinner,” he informed him. Then, with a more welcoming air, he added, “Would you care to dine with us this evening?”
“I would not wish to be an imposition.”
“Nonsense,” Wilton responded, turning to the butler. “Inform the cook that Lord Westmere will be joining us for dinner.”
The butler inclined his head. “Yes, my lord.” With that, he departed to carry out the order.
Now alone with Wilton in the entry hall, Evander found his friend’s gaze fixed upon him, sharp and appraising. “Dare I ask what this is all about?”
“I would prefer to speak privately.”
Wilton gestured towards the drawing room. “After you,” he said with a nod of encouragement.
Once they had entered the drawing room, Evander closed the door behind them and turned to face his friend squarely. “I am going to offer for Olivia,” he announced.
If Wilton was startled by this sudden admission, he gave no outward sign. Instead, he merely said, “It is about time.”
“Pardon?”
Wilton’s mouth twitched into a knowing smile as he crossed his arms over his chest. “You two were inseparable as children. I have long suspected there was more between you than either of you cared to admit. I believe you would suit very well.”
Evander dragged a hand through his hair. “As you know, my mother is dying. She wishes to see me wed before she passes—she says it will ease her mind.” His voice grew softer. “And if I marry Olivia, I might help restore her reputation. She deserves that much.”
“Yes, you could,” Wilton agreed. “It would be a most advantageous match for her.”
“Do you think she will agree?”
Wilton gave a small shrug. “Olivia can be... unpredictable. I rarely presume to guess what she will do. But it is not as though there are scores of gentlemen beating down our doors to court her, especially not after what happened. Still, know this: if you truly mean to offer for her, do not speak as though you are doing her a favor. Olivia would never accept such terms.”
Evander’s jaw tightened. “I would never insult her so. I would be a good husband to her. I only hope she can come to believe that.”
Wilton studied him for a moment, then gave a short nod. “Then I wish you luck, my friend. You will need it.”
“How did you convince your wife to marry you?”
Wilton chuckled. “There was some groveling involved,” he confessed with a grin. “But more than that—I loved her so deeply that I set aside my pride and spoke to her from the heart. That, I think, is what won her over.”
Before Evander could ask more, the door opened, and both men turned.
Olivia entered the room with graceful ease. She wore a pale blue gown with a delicate white net overlay that complemented her fair complexion to perfection. Her blonde hair was swept up in an elegant style and two soft curls framed her face.
“Evander,” Olivia greeted him. “What a pleasant surprise.”
He stepped forward until he stood directly before her, the words he had rehearsed on the walk over suddenly fleeing his mind. “I was hoping to speak with you,” he managed.
Olivia tilted her head slightly, her gaze sparkling with curiosity. “It sounds rather serious.”
“It is,” he admitted, clearing his throat in an attempt to steady his nerves.
“Then perhaps I ought to fetch my serious hat,” she teased, her eyes dancing with mischief.
A chuckle escaped him despite his tension. “You are a minx.”
Placing a light hand upon his sleeve, she said, “I was merely trying to make you laugh. I know the burdens upon your shoulders of late have not been easy to bear.”
“No, they haven’t,” he confessed, his voice roughened by fatigue and grief.
She held his gaze steadily. “But you will get through this. You are the strongest man I know.”
Wilton interjected with mock indignation. “What about me, Sister?”
Olivia dropped her hand from Evander’s sleeve and turned towards her brother. “I stand by my statement.”
Wilton placed a dramatic hand over his heart. “That wounds me.”
Before more could be said, Lady Wilton appeared at the threshold and announced, “Sterling informs me that dinner is ready. Shall we adjourn to the dining room?”
“That is an excellent idea,” Wilton replied, offering his arm to his wife. “Westmere will be joining us for dinner.”
Lady Wilton’s smile warmed further as she met Evander’s gaze. “My lord,” she murmured politely.
“Please,” Evander replied with a small bow, “you must call me Evander. All my friends do.”
“Then you must call me Dosia,” she responded.
Evander returned her smile. “It would be my pleasure.”
As they began to make their way towards the dining room, Evander fell into step beside Olivia. His heart thudded in his chest as he leaned slightly towards her and said in a quiet voice, “We shall speak after dinner.”
Olivia glanced up at him, her smile light and teasing. “Then I have something to look forward to.”
As they entered the dining room, Evander could scarcely take his eyes off her. He had always been fascinated by Olivia, completely and breathtakingly fascinated by her. She was his future. He was certain of it now, more than ever.
But would she feel the same?