Chapter 16 #2
Evander felt Olivia shift beside him. She stepped back and said, “I’ll leave you both to it.”
He watched her retreat down the hall, and the urge to follow her nearly overwhelmed him. He didn’t want to speak to Warwicke. He wanted Olivia to finish that sentence. He wanted to know what she had felt.
Warwicke stepped forward, drawing Evander’s attention back to the present. “We can talk in your study.”
Evander’s irritation returned with a low grumble. “This had better be important.”
“It is,” his friend assured him.
And yet all Evander could think about was Olivia—her blush, her silence, and the answer he hadn’t been allowed to hear.
Evander led Warwicke into the study, closing the door behind them with a soft click.
The early morning light streamed through the tall windows, casting long shadows across the carpet.
He turned to face his friend, still a bit weary from the restless night before.
“What is so important that it couldn’t wait until a more civilized hour? ”
Warwicke’s expression was grave—far more so than usual. “I looked into Lord Luca Dexter, as you suggested. And I discovered something… troubling.”
Now Warwicke had his full attention. He straightened, every muscle in his body coiled with tension. “What did you discover?”
“I attended a meeting of the reformers last night,” Warwicke said. “He was there. Slipped in after it started and stood at the back. But there was no mistaking him.”
A curse hovered on Evander’s lips, but he swallowed it. “Did he see you?”
Warwicke shook his head. “I don’t believe so, though I can’t be certain.”
Evander exhaled slowly, dragging a hand down his face. “So it’s him, then. Lord Luca is the one behind the threats.”
“It could be.”
“Could be?” Evander’s voice sharpened. “Who else would it be?”
Warwicke gave him a pointed look. “We shouldn’t leap to conclusions. But now that we’ve placed him near the reformers, I’ll dig further. See what else he’s hiding.”
Evander crossed the room to the drink cart, tempted to pour something strong to steady his nerves. He reached for the decanter and asked, “Would you care for something to drink?”
“No, thank you. I need a clear head.”
With a nod, Evander set the decanter back down, the crystal clinking softly against the tray. He turned, leaning one hand on the edge of the cart. “What do we do now?”
Warwicke didn’t hesitate. “You stay here at your townhouse. Hire more guards. Keep Olivia and your father close. At least until we know more.”
Evander gave a short, humorless laugh. “That will be easier said than done. My father is at the House of Lords today. He refuses to be cowed. Says silence only encourages tyranny.”
“Foolish pride,” Warwicke muttered. “It’ll get him—or you—killed.”
Evander walked slowly to the leather armchair and sank into it, the weight of responsibility pressing heavily on his shoulders. “Even if Lord Luca is involved, how do we make the threats stop?”
A faint smirk played across Warwicke’s lips. “Leave that to me.”
Evander’s brows lifted. “What exactly does that mean?”
“It means I can be very persuasive when I need to be,” Warwicke said lightly, but his eyes were hard.
Evander met his gaze and gave a slow nod. There was steel beneath his friend’s charm—danger, even. “I trust you.”
“Good.” Warwicke crossed the room and sat opposite him. “I saw Lord Harwood leaving your townhouse earlier. What did he want?”
Evander’s jaw tightened at the mention. “He wants to buy the indigo plantation.”
Warwicke’s brow rose. “Interesting.”
“He claims it’s just business. Says combining our plantations would increase the value when he sells.”
“That’s what he told you?”
Evander nodded, though unease was starting to prickle at the back of his neck. “Yes. Why?”
“Did he mention who the buyer was?”
“A Mr. Taylor,” Evander said. “He represents Walter Textiles.”
Warwicke gave a dry chuckle. “How convenient.”
Evander frowned. “I’ve known Harwood for years. He’s brash and arrogant at times, but he’s always acted out of duty.”
“Duty and ambition are not mutually exclusive,” Warwicke said, settling deeper into his chair. “I think I’ll look into Harwood next.”
Evander gave him a cautious look. “You think he’s involved in the threats? He claimed to have received them himself.”
“So he says,” Warwicke murmured, unconvinced.
“But why would he lie about that?”
Warwicke’s grin was almost mocking. “Greed. Power. Leverage. Any number of motives, depending on what he stands to gain. Or lose.”
Evander glanced towards the closed door, his thoughts turning to Olivia. “I should be able to convince her to stay here, at least until we sort this out.”
Warwicke tilted his head. “You two looked close when I arrived. That’s good, isn’t it?”
“It is,” Evander admitted. “We’re making progress. But sometimes I look at her and I wonder what she’s thinking. If I’ll ever be enough.”
Warwicke chuckled. “That’s the wish of every good husband.”
Evander paused, then asked, “What if I can’t get her to love me?”
At that, Warwicke sobered. “Love doesn’t work that way. If it is meant to be, it will happen. It is given. Freely. Unexpected.”
“That doesn’t sound very promising.”
Leaning forward in his seat, Warwicke said, “I tried pushing Thea away, convinced I was unworthy. But she didn’t care. She proved her love through every word, every gesture. That’s what changed me.”
Evander stared up at the ceiling. “I see the questions in Olivia’s eyes but she is stubborn.”
“Aren’t all women?” Warwicke asked, rising. “That’s what makes it worth the fight.”
Warwicke stepped towards the door and continued. “I’ll let you know if I find anything else. Be on your guard.”
Evander gave a sharp nod. “I always am.” But even as he said the words, he knew they rang hollow.
The door shut quietly behind his friend, and the study fell into stillness once more.
Evander leaned back in his chair, the leather cool against the nape of his neck, and closed his eyes.
He should have been planning, strategizing, doing something—anything—to get ahead of the threats looming over his family.
But instead, his mind veered—again and again—to Olivia.
She was always there, just beneath the surface of every thought. He tried to shake her, to push her from his mind, but she came back stronger. Every smile, every skeptical look, every quiet breath she took near him—it consumed him. And that, he thought grimly, was the problem.
A knock at the door broke the silence.
“Pardon the interruption, my lord,” came Gillingham’s voice as he stepped inside, bowing slightly. “Your mother is requesting a moment of your time.”
Evander straightened with a sigh and rose. “Thank you.”
As he walked through the corridors towards his mother’s bedchamber, he tried to rehearse what he would say to Olivia.
He needed to convince her to remain here, where it was safe, but Olivia was no meek lady.
She’d balk at being confined, and she’d demand answers he couldn’t yet give.
He had no certainty to offer her—only shadows, and the hope that Warwicke would unearth something solid.
When he reached the familiar door to his mother’s chambers, he knocked once before stepping inside.
The drapes had been pulled back, and sunlight poured in, illuminating the soft pink of her bedclothes and the thin lines around her eyes.
But her posture was alert, and her color was better than he’d seen in weeks.
“Mother,” he greeted, stepping to her side. “How are you feeling?”
“Well enough to live another day,” she replied, voice dry as always.
He gave a brief smile and sat beside her on the edge of the bed. “You asked to see me?”
She nodded. “I did. Olivia visited me this morning. She was troubled. Is everything all right?”
No, he thought. But he said, “It will be.”
His mother gave him a look that reminded him he hadn’t been able to lie to her since he was six years old. “I know something is going on. Your father didn’t slip and hit his head, did he?”
He winced slightly. “That’s what he told you?”
She crossed her arms with impressive vigor. “I’m not some simpering miss, Child. I can handle the truth.”
“Mother…”
“The truth, please.”
Evander exhaled, knowing it was inevitable. “We’ve received threats. Someone wants us to sell the indigo plantation.”
“You’ve been threatened, too?”
“I have. But you mustn’t worry about it.” He squeezed her hand gently. “You need to focus on your recovery.”
“Oh, pish-posh,” she said, waving off the concern. “I do nothing but lie here all day waiting for death. Let me be of some use.”
“You are not going to die,” Evander said firmly, his voice low with emotion. “You’re going to live forever just to keep Father in line.”
She smiled faintly. “If you will me to live, I’ll obey. I’ll try,” she said. “Now, what do you intend to do about these threats?”
“They’re being investigated by someone I trust.” He paused. “I won’t let anything happen to any of us.”
“That’s a relief,” she murmured, eyes softening.
His gaze wandered towards the bright window. “You’ve opened the drapes.”
“Olivia insisted,” his mother said, glancing towards the light. “She said I needed more sunlight. And I do believe she’s right—it lifts the gloom in here.”
Evander stood, his heart beginning to thump faster in his chest. “I need to speak to Olivia.”
“You’d best hurry,” she informed him. “She mentioned visiting her brother this morning.”
His blood ran cold. “She left? Now?”
“She didn’t say when, but—Evander?”
But he was already out the door.
His boots thudded against the floor as he raced down the corridor to Olivia’s bedchamber, his chest tightening with every step. He knocked hard, too hard, and the door opened a moment later.
A maid stood before him, blinking in surprise. “My lord?”
He craned his neck, his heart hammering. “Is my wife here?”
“No, my lord. She left for her brother’s townhouse a few minutes ago. You may still catch her—”
He didn’t wait for the rest.
He spun on his heel and sprinted down the stairs two at a time. He burst through the front door just in time to see the crested coach blending into the flow of traffic at the far end of the street.
“Botheration,” he muttered, his voice tight with panic.
Behind him, Gillingham’s calm voice drifted into the morning air. “Is something wrong, my lord?”
Evander turned, jaw clenched. “Yes. Ready my horse at once.”
As the butler disappeared to carry out the order, Evander forced himself to take a deep breath. She’s only going to her brother’s. It isn’t far. It’s broad daylight. She’ll be fine.
But even as he repeated it in his head, the unease in his gut refused to dissipate.
She had to be safe.
She had to be.
Because the alternative was unthinkable. And Evander didn’t think he could survive losing her—not now.