Chapter 6 #2
A faint laugh escaped her, and for the first time that morning, the heaviness in her heart lightened—if only by a fraction.
“You offered for her?”
Evander lifted his teacup with deliberate calm and took a sip, the faint clink of porcelain was the only sound in the tense dining room. Setting the cup back on its saucer, he met his father’s thunderous gaze across the gleaming table. “If you are referring to Olivia, yes. I did offer for her.”
His father’s chair scraped back an inch as he jerked upright. “Are you mad?”
“No.”
The elder man tossed the folded newssheets onto the table with a snap of his wrist. “Do you have any notion of what you have done?”
Evander reached for his fork and took his time cutting a bite of egg. “I do. I intend to marry Olivia or no one at all.”
“You cannot be serious.” His father’s nostrils flared, the veins at his temple pulsing. “Olivia is not a suitable choice for you.”
“I disagree.” Evander met his father’s stare unflinchingly. “And I believe I made it clear that the decision of whom I marry is mine alone. Not yours.”
A muscle twitched in the older man’s jaw. “You would tarnish our family’s reputation for this foolishness? Because that is precisely what will happen if you go through with this madness.”
“You exaggerate, Father.” Evander took a bite and chewed with studied patience.
“I do not,” his father snapped.
Evander set down his fork. “Olivia is the daughter of a marquess and possesses a dowry of twenty thousand pounds. Hardly a scandalous match by any rational measure.”
His father surged to his feet, his chair scraping harshly across the floor. “Yet she also eloped to Gretna Green with a woman masquerading as a man! The entire ton whispers about her.”
“She was duped,” Evander said. “That is not a crime.”
His father threw up his hands. “No, but it is evidence of intolerable na?vety. She would make a terrible countess.”
Evander sighed inwardly. His father’s anger was no surprise. It was his standard weapon when his will was thwarted. “Father—”
“Enough.” His father held up a commanding hand. “You will break this engagement at once. You will marry Lady Jemima. She is expecting your offer.”
“Then she will be disappointed.” Evander’s voice remained level. “Furthermore, Olivia has not yet agreed to marry me.”
“But she will.”
Evander gave a faint shrug. “I hope so. But with Olivia, nothing is guaranteed.”
His father stalked around the table, stopping close enough that Evander caught the faint scent of tobacco and brandy clinging to his coat. “I know you have always been fascinated by that girl. Take her as a mistress if you must, but not your wife.”
Evander’s entire frame went taut. “I would never dishonor Olivia in such a way. She deserves far better than that.” His gaze sharpened. “As does Mother.”
A flicker of something—guilt, perhaps—flashed in his father’s eyes. “You know not what you speak of.”
“I think I do.” Evander kept his voice low, but firm. “The entire house knows. Mother knows.”
His father took an unsteady step back, color draining from his face. “Did you tell her?”
“No,” Evander replied. “But it’s no great secret, is it? You’ve hardly been discreet.”
His father turned abruptly and walked to the window, clasping his hands behind his back. “I love your mother. But she has been… unwell for some time.”
“Please.” Evander’s voice hardened. “Do not insult us both by attempting to justify yourself.”
His father pivoted to face him. “I want you to understand.”
“I do not.” Evander tossed his napkin beside his plate. “You speak of protecting our reputation, yet you do not live as an honorable man yourself.”
“It is not uncommon for men of my station—”
Evander cut him off, voice sharp. “Your wife is dying, and you would rather slip off to your mistress’s bed. That is your justification?”
His father’s mouth tightened. “Bryon understood.”
“Well, I am not Bryon.” Evander straightened to his full height. “And I never will be.” He pushed back his chair with a scrape. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a call to make.”
“You are a fool, Son.”
“With that insult, I bid you good day,” he said as he strode towards the doorway.
“Have you begun reviewing the estate accounts?” his father called after him.
Pausing, Evander glanced back. “I have.”
“Good,” his father replied. “You will focus on the indigo plantation this quarter. The estate depends on its profit.”
Evander arched a brow. “Are you certain that’s wise? I know very little about indigo plantations.”
“You had best learn—and quickly. The plantation’s success is vital.”
Evander tipped his head in acknowledgment and continued out.
In the entry hall, the butler handed him his hat and opened the door. Stepping outside into the morning air, Evander noticed a stout man in a brown coat loitering nearby. Their eyes met.
The man approached with determined strides. “Are you Lord Westmere?”
“I am,” Evander replied warily.
Without preamble, the man reached into his coat and drew a knife, holding it low but menacing. “Mind your business and stay out of India.”
Rearing back, Evander asked, “Pardon?”
The man stepped closer. “Sell your Neel Kothi—or else.”
“I’m afraid I do not know what that is.”
The man sneered. “Then learn quickly. You’ve no place meddling there. Do the right thing or it’ll be the last thing you do.” With that final warning, he retreated swiftly down the street.
Evander considered pursuing him, but thought better of it. The man was armed with a knife and that was not to be underestimated.
As he made his way towards Olivia’s townhouse, his mind churned with questions. What is a Neel Kothi? And why did this man threaten him so brazenly on the street?
He arrived sooner than he expected, climbing the stone steps and knocking. The butler admitted him promptly, and he couldn’t help but notice the profusion of fresh flowers he had sent filling the entry hall.
As if summoned by the thought, Olivia appeared from a side corridor. “Evander,” she greeted.
He bowed. “Livy. You are looking lovely as always.”
A playful smile touched her lips. “Flattery? And at such an early hour.”
“It is the truth.” He stepped closer. “I have always found you to be remarkably beautiful.”
“That is kind of you to say…”
Speaking over her, he said, “Surely you must know how beautiful you are.”
She pressed her lips together. “I am no beauty.”
“You are wrong.” He smiled. “You outshine every other young lady in any room.”
A blush rose on her cheeks, and she looked down. “Is that why I am five and twenty and unwed?”
He moved until he stood before her and gently tipped her chin up. “Only because you were waiting for me to offer.”
“About your offer…” She hesitated. “If you truly mean it, I will marry you.”
A smile lit his face. “Nothing would make me happier.”
She searched his eyes. “You must be certain. It is an advantageous match for me, but for you—what do you gain?”
He traced a light touch along her cheek. “I gain you.”
“Be serious, Evander.”
“I am,” he replied. “I will post the banns at once. And in three weeks’ time, you shall be my wife.”
Her eyes shimmered. “Does your mother have that much time left?”
He swallowed hard. “I hope so.”
“Then perhaps we should marry by special license.”
His grin turned roguish. “What you are proposing is scandalous, but I like it. My father will despise the idea, which is an added benefit.”
She laughed softly. “You are awful.”
He reached for her hand. “Awfully in love with you.”
Olivia visibly stiffened, her eyes widening ever so slightly. “You… love me?”
Realizing what he had just let slip, Evander’s breath caught.
Fool, he silently cursed himself. He shook his head quickly.
“I do… as a friend.” The words tumbled out too quickly.
“It was merely an expression. Surely you have heard it before,” he added, forcing a light tone in a desperate attempt to deflect.
“I haven’t,” she replied, her voice soft, almost wary.
“Then you need to get out more,” he said with a faint, crooked smile.
To his relief, she didn’t press him further. Her gaze dropped to her hands for a moment before she looked up again. “Should we tell my family?”
He opened his mouth to respond, but before he could utter a word, Wilton’s voice cut through the air from the corridor. “There is no need. We overheard everything.”
Evander dropped his hand from Olivia’s and took a step back, scanning the corridor. How had I not heard them approaching? His instincts must have been dulled by the sheer weight of this moment.
Dosia and the Dowager Lady Wilton approached swiftly, their faces alight with joy. Dosia reached Olivia first, embracing her tightly. “We are so happy for you,” she said warmly, her eyes shining.
Evander’s gaze flicked to Olivia. Her smile was polite, her posture composed—but her eyes…
they told another story. There was no spark of true happiness there, only a quiet resignation and a flicker of uncertainty.
She is marrying me out of duty, not love, he thought grimly.
But that would not deter him. If it took days, weeks, or a lifetime, he would win her heart.
I will not let this be a practical arrangement.
I will woo her until she sees we belong together.
Wilton moved to his side. “Thank you,” he said quietly.
Evander glanced at him, brow furrowed. “For what?”
“I know why you are doing this,” Wilton replied, his tone layered with meaning.
Evander’s pulse quickened. “You do?” he asked carefully, wondering if his friend had truly glimpsed the feelings he so carefully guarded.
Wilton nodded once, his next words carrying the weight of a warning. “Be true to her.”
Meeting his gaze steadily, Evander replied, “I have every intention of doing so.”
At that moment, a sudden scurry of movement drew their attention downward. Finnegan darted across the floor with uncontainable energy, paws skittering on the polished surface.
With a soft laugh, Olivia bent to scoop up the small dog and cradled him in her arms. “Isn’t this exciting, Finnegan?”
Evander couldn’t help himself. He reached out to stroke the little creature’s head, but Finnegan beat him to it, lifting his chin and enthusiastically licking Evander’s hand.
A soft chuckle escaped Olivia. “I see that Finnegan already adores you,” she said, her voice lighter now.
“My father is going to hate Finnegan,” Evander remarked, his words edged with almost gleeful anticipation.
“Should I not bring him with me to your townhouse, then?” Olivia asked.
Evander smirked. “On the contrary, you must bring him. And anything else your heart desires. After all, it will be your townhouse now, as well.”
At his words, her smile faltered—just a fraction—but Evander noticed. He always noticed.
Her gaze wandered from him to the space around her, and there was a wistfulness in her expression, a flicker of doubt clouding her features. This is my home, her eyes seemed to say.
Evander knew this would not be easy for her, leaving behind this townhouse and stepping into the unknown with him. But he would not rush her. In time, he vowed, she would not think of it as leaving home… but as finding a new one. With him.