Chapter 13 #3
Lady Everwyck studied her a moment longer, and Olivia had the sudden sensation of being seen more clearly than she liked.
“I do believe that you are meant for someone whose heart won’t let go of you so easily.”
Olivia didn’t answer right away. Her gaze shifted to the window, where the wind had pushed one of the heavy velvet drapes aside.
The breeze stirred the stale air of the room, and with it came an aching tightness in her chest. She didn’t know how to untangle the mess of feelings she held for Evander.
What if she reached for something more, and ruined everything?
Their friendship had been a constant in her life—steady, unshakeable. What if she broke it?
Lady Everwyck’s voice drew her gently back. “Trust your heart.”
Olivia let out a soft breath and turned to face her. “My heart was wrong before,” she said. “And I don’t trust it anymore.”
“Then trust me, my dear.” Lady Everwyck’s expression was full of that calm certainty Olivia had always admired. “When you fall deeply—truly, irrevocably—in love with someone, that kind of love doesn’t vanish. It stays with you.”
Before Olivia could reply, a knock at the door interrupted them. It creaked open a second later, and Evander stepped inside.
His smile was easy, familiar. “Good afternoon.”
Lady Everwyck’s face brightened immediately. “Hello, Evander. We were just talking about you.”
“Oh?” he asked, arching an eyebrow.
The countess gave a mischievous nod. “Do you remember when Olivia tried to fly by gluing chicken feathers to her arms?”
Evander chuckled. The sound stirred something warm in Olivia’s chest. “How could I forget? We spent weeks collecting feathers. I think it was the only time Cook ever allowed us to waste her glue.”
“I maintain it was a rather ingenious plan,” Olivia said, lifting her chin with mock dignity.
Evander gave her a teasing look. “Only you would think that. The best part was that your mother had guests on the terrace at the exact moment you came running through the gardens, flapping your arms like a deranged goose.”
Olivia laughed, covering her mouth. “She was absolutely mortified.”
“And yet,” Evander added, grinning, “she helped peel off the feathers herself before hauling you off to the bath.”
Olivia groaned. “That was the most painful bath I’ve ever endured. I promised her I’d never do anything so foolish again.”
He smirked. “Until the next time you got into trouble.”
She shrugged. “I couldn’t help it. I was a curious child. Besides, you were always right beside me, just as eager to misbehave.”
“That I was.”
Their eyes met for a moment too long. Olivia’s smile faded slightly as a peculiar feeling pressed against her heart—fondness, certainly. But also something deeper. Something that scared her.
Lady Everwyck yawned, covering her mouth with a fragile hand. “Pardon me,” she said. “But I believe it’s time for me to rest again.”
Olivia stood at once. “Of course. We’ll let you sleep.”
“I would like that,” the countess murmured, already sinking back into her pillows.
As Olivia followed Evander out into the corridor, the door clicking shut behind them, she asked, “Did you find Warwicke?”
“I did,” Evander said, pausing as they reached the end of the corridor. He turned to her. “He’s looking into the attack. Into all of it.”
A faint wave of relief passed through her. “Good. I hope he can put a stop to these threats. I can’t bear the thought of anything happening to you.”
Evander looked at her with a steadiness that made her breath catch. “Nothing will happen to me.”
But she couldn’t let him dismiss it so easily. She reached out and laid her hand on his sleeve. “Do not make light of this situation. I need you to be careful, Evander.”
The air between them seemed to shift as his gaze locked with hers. “I will be,” he said. “Because I’ve never had such a reason to fight before.”
Olivia’s heart gave a small, traitorous flutter. She didn’t speak. She couldn’t. She simply stood there, with her hand still on his arm, and tried to remember how to breathe.
But then Evander stepped back.
It was subtle—just one step, hardly noticeable to anyone else—but to Olivia, it felt purposeful. Her hand, which had rested so naturally on his sleeve a moment ago, fell uselessly to her side.
“We should start dressing for dinner soon,” he said, his tone even, as if nothing had passed between them.
Olivia forced herself to nod, though her throat felt tight. “Yes, we should,” she replied, hoping the words carried more steadiness than she actually felt.
He gave her a smile—gentle, almost private—but it only deepened her confusion. There was something in his eyes she couldn’t name, and before she could search his expression for more, he turned and walked away down the corridor, leaving her alone in the fading light.
Olivia remained rooted in place for a long moment, her heart beating too loudly in the silence he left behind. What had just happened? Had she imagined the moment? The look in his eyes? The weight of his words?
Something had transpired between them, but what it was, she could not say.